#wait did i just mention this the other day this feels familiar
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1-800-adore-me · 1 day ago
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| "Did I do good, honey?"
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🍎 nsfw warning (18+) + tags: baby fever Caleb, dirty talk, inappropriate usage of evol abilities, edging (Caleb to you), fingering, cunninglingus, praise kink, pet names (pipsqueak, princess, baby girl, sweetheart, honey…), squirting, biting, grinding  ( porn without plot | words: around 3.9k ) (AN: caleb would totally be into the fantasy of breeding you and having loving baby making sex. unfortunately no breeding for this fic but hopefully for the next one <3 caleb is just having his boydinner)
After Caleb finally confirmed his availability to hang out with you for the day, you decided that you wanted to try out a cafe with him. You told him that Tara mentioned it having the “most tastiest” lattes that Linkon had to offer and the pastries were to die for. Considering how excited you looked when you were telling him this, how could he ever say no to those giant puppy eyes of yours? 
When you both arrived at the cafe, it was bustling with business. There was a line of people waiting outside of the cafe and there was a sense of apprehension coming from you. Are we going to wait forever? Should we just head back? I don’t want Caleb to feel like he’s wasting time waiting with me here…
As if he could sense your apprehension, Caleb patted your head with that soft smile that you were oh so familiar with. “It seems busy but hey, I wouldn’t mind waiting in line so long as this pipsqueak here can.” He’d chuckle, a delicate sound that was sent straight to your heart. “Don’t tell me that you’re so hungry that you can’t wait in line, hm?”
You frowned and playfully hit his arm. “As if! Come on, let’s hurry up before more people crowd up and take our spots then!” 
Even though you were smaller than him, the amount of strength that you had when you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the line was akin to a thousand men. He let out an amused chuckle as he allowed you to do so, taking in any opportunity to feel your skin on his. The way your fingers locked perfectly with his made his heart flutter as it made him think back to the olden days where you were so clingy and needy for him to the point where you begged him to take you everywhere he went. 
After waiting in line for what felt like hours, the both of you finally arrived inside the cafe. It had an inviting and warm atmosphere that quickly dissolved any sense of frustration building up inside of you. Once it was finally Caleb’s and your turn to order, you both decided on 2 slices of apple pie and 2 lattes. After the both of you had gotten your orders, you decided to head out. The inside of the cafe, although it looked cozy and sweet to relax in, was beginning to feel cramped with the amount of people endlessly pouring in. The original plan included the both of you spending the afternoon there but considering that it was only going to get busier, perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to linger long. After a quick discussion, it was a better idea to just head back home for the day and watch movies as you enjoy your treats. Although it sounded mundane, today felt like a good day to be lazy. 
Suddenly, a young girl grabbed the hem of your skirt. You looked down at her with a confused expression on your face, yet you held a warm smile towards her. Caleb stopped in his tracks, offering the small girl the same expression as well. 
“Hello there, little one! Did you need something from me?” You say, now turning around to fully face her as you crouched down to her height. Her warm brown eyes observed your face for a moment, her fingers twiddling with each other. She seemed quite shy. 
She hesitated before she spoke. “Miss… What do you have there? I saw that you ordered something that looked yummy but I don’t know what it is. Can you tell me?” Her eyes averted from yours for a moment before focusing them on you again as she pointed at the bag held in Caleb’s hand. 
You let out a soft chuckle, as if her question was something peculiar. All of this nervousness to ask you what kind of goodies you bought? You patted her head as if to reassure her that she could relax around you. By magic, you could feel her shoulders relaxing. 
“Well, why don’t I show you instead?” You say as you rummaged through the paper bag that Caleb was holding in his hand and showed her a box of 1 apple slice inside. “It’s an apple pie! This kind mister and I used to eat a lot of these when we were little like you and we heard that this cafe makes really good pies!” You handed it to her as she hesitantly accepted it - although confusion was written on her face. “Why don’t you have my slice then? We bought 2 so I can always share the other slice with him!”
The young girl’s eyes suddenly widened as her expression brightened up. She looked down at the box you just gave her and let out an adorable chuckle. “Are you sure, miss? I don’t want to take away your food!”
You furiously shook your head as you quickly got up. “Don’t fret about it! Like I said, I can just share with this mister right here!” You tapped Caleb’s chest, earning yourself a soft laughter from him. “You wouldn’t mind at all, right?” He looks at her and smiles, nodding. 
“You heard her! Don’t worry about us, little missy!” He’d pat her head as well before looking at you. “Should we head on then? I don’t want our pie to get cold if we take too long to go back home.” Although there was his usual gentleness in his tone, there was something off - as if he was in a rush. You raised an eyebrow at him but thought nothing of it. You were also anticipating spending the day with him after all. Perhaps he felt the same way. 
Both of you waved at the younger girl as you walked away. She shouted an adorable ‘Thank you!’ before she scurried away to find her parents. Caleb’s eyes lingered on the both of you for a moment before returning his attention on you. But something was different about his expression. He looked like he was distracted by something. You snapped your fingers in front of him in order to catch his attention. 
“Are you okay, Caleb? Distracted by something?” You said, giving him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me that you’re upset that you have to share with me. If you really want to, we can head back to the cafe and wait another 200 years so you don’t get grumpy!” 
He laughed - his familiar, comforting gaze now on you. “Oh, pipsqueak. If we waited any longer in there, I might’ve had to hold you back from stealing the pastries and running off! Trust me, I don’t mind sharing with you at all. After all, didn’t I use to share all of my pie slices with you when we were younger? Gran would scold me all the time, saying that I shouldn’t give you everything I had!”
The two of you exchanged comforting nostalgic memories as you continued your way back home. Yet, you would notice that there was still a distracted expression on his face. Did I say something wrong? Did I upset him? You decided that you would ask him about it later. Right now, you just enjoyed the playful dynamic that you had going on with him. 
When the both of you finally reached home, he set the bag down on the table as you grabbed the blankets and pillows needed for the evening’s session. After you both changed into your comfortable homebody outfits, you snuggled against his broad chest as he put an arm around you. The television was playing some romcom movie that you two thought sounded interesting - although, your attention was directed towards something else other than the screen. 
“Caleb?” You gently called his attention. His eyes immediately turned from the screen to you. 
“Hm? What is it, pipsqueak?” He replied in a gentle tone, matching yours. 
“What’s been bothering you?” Your eyebrows lightly knitted together. “Ever since the cafe, you seem… distracted. Did something happen?” You put a hand on his cheek and he laid his own hand on yours, deepening the skinship. He turned his face into your hand and smiled into it, laying a brief kiss on you. 
He gave a small hum. “I had an interesting thought, that’s all.” His tone was more playful now as he couldn’t help holding back that teasing grin he always had. 
You let out a groan, although it was a much more exaggerated one. “Tell me now! What is it that’s bothering you? Is it something that I can help with?” 
His eyes slightly averted from yours for a moment before focusing his gaze on your body - then onto your eyes again. Something changed in his eyes - something more akin to hunger. He laid another kiss on your fingers, then onto the back of your hand. 
“You were being so kind to that little girl… You’re so gentle when you talk to kids. Makes me want to give you one.” He whispered ever so gently as he snaked his hand underneath the blankets and laid it on your stomach. He rubbed tiny circles around as he laughed. 
“You would be good, wouldn’t you? I think about it sometimes… Me coming home to a tiny little you running around the house, causing a ruckus as we all laugh together.” His face inched closer to yours and that’s when you realized how hot your cheeks felt at the implications he was getting at. His beautiful, gorgeous eyes were intense to look into and you looked away for a moment, feeling like you would get lost in them if you stared for too long. 
He didn’t stop talking. He continued with that low, husky voice of his now as his hands began travelling lower. “Wouldn’t you agree? Wouldn’t you like being pregnant with my baby? I’ll give you one, yeah? I know that you get lonely sometimes when I’m off on a mission so… I’ll give you a baby, hm? How does that sound, honey?” The only reason why he stopped talking was because his lips were busy on your neck, kissing and suckling on your soft skin. You let out a soft moan as you tilted your neck, granting him more access to it. 
“Remember when we were kids and you said you wanted a big family when you grew up? 4 or more kids so they could all be friends with each other?” He was now licking your collarbones as he watched colorful bruises start to form on your skin. “You still want 4 babies, hm? I can give them to you if you’d like, yeah?”
Caleb’s naughty hands now dug past the hem of your shorts and his long, rugged fingers began rubbing your entrance through your panties. You could already feel yourself getting damp from the quick contact of his digits. Then he began rubbing your already hard clit with his thumb. Your clit, in response, was pulsing against his large digit. 
“C-Caleb…! Aaah…!” You let out a breathy sigh. You grabbed his face and began kissing him now - locking your mouths together as you allowed your tongue to explore his. There was a sweet and bitter taste in his mouth as he had just recently drank his latte while the both of you were watching the movie. With his other hand that wasn’t busy pleasing you, he put it behind your head to deepen your kiss. Obscene noises of wet moans filled the room and it was the only thing that you could hear in your ears. Whatever was playing on the screen now was just background noises that you couldn’t even bother giving your attention to anymore. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel everything that was happening. 
Your panties were getting damper and damper by the second, the fabric getting thinner and transparent now because of your slick. His gentle touches in contrast to how ferociously he was making out with you sent butterflies in your stomach. You couldn’t hold back a moan into his mouth, which made him grin. 
“Caleb, please…! Touch me more!” You begged him as you broke away from his lips. A thin strand of saliva was the only connection from your separation and you held back the urge to lick your lips - lest you’d lose the only thing keeping you both together. His lips were wet and bruised and so were yours. You took off your panties, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Put your fingers inside, please! I need you right now, I need you so much!” 
His breath hitched. His eyes were looking everywhere at you now, drinking in your desperation. Then, he chuckled - a sound that was rich and deep. “But should I?” He said, now taking away his hand from your wet and aching sex. “What if I don’t, hm? I’m the only one who can satisfy you, my love.” He licked one of his fingers that was covered in your slick. “And if I can’t satisfy you… are you going to cry? I can just leave you like this and walk away.” He’d chuckle. 
As if he said something offensive, you jumped onto his lap and began grinding on his propped up knee. You didn’t care if your wet slick dirtied his pants, you needed to relieve your throbbing or else you’d go insane. When you soon realized that it wasn’t enough, you forcefully grabbed the hand that was pleasuring you and moved it back to your cunt. Then, you began grinding on it as well. The soft flesh of his hands felt better than his pants, you believe. 
“Can’t you see how much I need you, Caleb?” You pleaded as you tried to entice something out of him with your pathetic cries.. “I’ve… I’ve always needed you. I need you in my life, Caleb. You’re the only one who can satisfy me. Please? Please?” You now leaned forward and began kissing his neck, mimicking what he did to you earlier. He let out a satisfied sigh as he tilted his neck, which you began nipping and suckling at. The wet sounds of your kisses and his pleased sighs made your head swirl. 
“When did you learn how to get so naughty, hm? Was it because of me?” Just when you thought your pleas fell on deaf ears, you felt one of his fingers enter you. You were so wet that his fingers could easily allow themselves in without resistance. You let out a breathy moan next to his ear as you felt another finger slip itself in. 
As his fingers fucked you, his other hand started to rub your clit as well. Overwhelmed by the stimulation of having both your hole and your bundle of nerves being pleasured, your hips began trying to move away. But just when you tried to move around, the gravity around you forced you to keep still. 
- Caleb’s evol, you quickly realized. 
You let out a frustrated and quiet sob as you were now being tortured with how good it felt. It was overwhelming, painful, and oh so good at the same time. Tears began falling from your eyes as the only thing you could do was continue holding onto him and moan pitifully into his ear. You could feel more slick travel down your thighs as he continued ravishing you with no hint of stopping. He licked your tears away and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, cooing you as he slipped in a third finger. Even though you were dripping with wet slick, the intrusion of a third finger began feeling like it was too much. You let out a choked moan as you wept. 
“N-No more, Caleb. It’s too much- I’m too full…!” You pleaded. 
He gently shushed you as he nibbled on your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, honey. You’re taking my fingers so well. Do you like them that much, princess? You like it when I fuck you so hard that you can do nothing but cry?” You hear him chuckle as he holds you closer to him. “You were always a crybaby, my love. I wonder if our baby will be a crybaby like you too?” 
The image of you being big and round with his child was enough to send you over the moon. You could feel your thighs shaking as you prepared to release yourself onto his hands. You could feel the buildup of your climax getting bigger in your abdomen and just when you could feel yourself cum, you couldn’t. 
Because he took his hands away. 
“Ah- wha-!” You cried out as your climax was disturbed. Your frustrated and aching cunt throbbed at the absence of his long fingers. Caleb released his evol and you collapsed onto him, your knees weak from the sudden introduction of gravity again. He held you tightly against his chest as he laid another kiss on your forehead. Then, he set you down on the sofa with you laying down on your back. Dazed and frustrated from your lack of climax, you allowed him to move you however he’d like. You were suddenly aware of how huge and wide his sofa was.
Caleb looked at you with an innocent smile on his face. “I suddenly had a thought that maybe I was being too mean to you if I just made you cum on my fingers. I mean, wouldn’t you much rather prefer to cum in my mouth instead, honey?” 
He spread your legs open with his hands, revealing the tasteful fruit that he couldn’t wait to consume. He went down to your cunt, smelling the musky aromatic smell as he observed your abused pussy. Your poor, swelled up clit was throbbing at how close his breath felt and your entrance that was soaked in your mouth-watering slick was shining beautifully from the sunlight cascading on you from the window. Caleb rubbed your thigh as he began kissing your inner thighs, each sensation sending electric shocks to you. You couldn’t hold back the quiet whimpers escaping from your lips. 
Then, he bit down on the flesh. You let out a loud moan, your hands clutching the blankets that you were laid on. You could feel him suckling on the abused skin now as he tried to deepen the mark, before moving away from it. Then, he repeated the same thing to your other inner thigh. Your clit and pussy throbbed from the painful sensation yet you could feel yourself leaking more juices. You cried out again and began thrusting your hips upwards. 
“Aaanh…Ah- Ah…! Caleb…!” You whined. “Hurry up already!”
He kissed your thighs. “Getting impatient, are we? How come you could handle waiting what felt like forever in line for the cafe but you can’t even be patient with me right now?” His stupid playful tone made you want to punch him. You let out a sound of frustration before gasping as you felt him lick your clit. 
Soon, he began suckling on the small bud of nerves as he began fingering you again with two this time to start. - ‘You can handle two this time, right? You’re always so eager to take my fingers, baby. I’ll treat you good, yeah. You’re getting my fingers so fucking wet, honey.’ You opened your legs wider, allowing him full access to your cunt. Your head was thrown back as you felt his fingers curve upwards, stimulating your sensitive spot. It was scary at this point how well he knew how to break you with just a few fingers. You were being unravelled by him and he continued to consume every fiber of your being without hesitation. It also didn’t help how Caleb’s eyes never left yours as he drank up every face of pleasure you made. You averted your eyes a few times before succumbing to looking into his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in those beautiful violets and your own numbing pleasure. 
The wet sounds of his fingers fucking your tender hole was loud, as well as his moans enjoying his dinner. - ‘Princess, you taste so good… Mmm, could eat you for hours, honey. You’re being so good to me, baby.’ Your hole and your clit were never left alone as they were always receiving attention from Caleb. When he moved his mouth to your entrance and allowed his tongue to explore your soft insides, drinking up any slick that dared to leave your sobbing cunt, his fingers worked their magic in playing with your clit. And if he was attacking your clit with his soft tongue, his fingers would relentlessly fill you up. 
You could feel yourself getting closer by the second. You tried to not let it show on your face but the man who was giving you the world was Caleb - the person who always knew what you were feeling. The embarrassing sounds that you were making also became louder and more erotic, as well as how your legs were shaking - signalling how close your climax was coming. 
“Oouhh..! A-Ahhn..! C-Caleb! I’m gonna cum! Caleb, Caleb…!” You started chanting his name as if it was the only thing tying you down to staying conscious. He quickly grabbed one of your hands with his as he continued to eat you out, moaning into your cunt as he did so. - “Cum for me, baby. Give it all to me, sweetie. Give me all of you.” As you were riding out your orgasm, you tightly held onto his hand as he suckled your swollen clit and lapped up your pussy like a starved man. You began squirting, getting it all over his face and the sofa underneath you. Caleb watched you orgasm as he drank everything you - oh so graciously - offered him. After your climax, you whimpered as you felt him cleaning you up with his tongue - he licked your thighs and your swollen pussy, trying his best to get every nook and cranny that was still blessed with your juices. 
Feeling worn out from your intense orgasm, the only thing you could do was lay down and look up at the ceiling. Hell, even trying to look at Caleb was too much work. After he was done cleaning you up, he laid down next to you and snuggled with you as if nothing happened. 
“I’ll run a bath for you in a little bit, princess. But I want to cuddle first. I missed you, honey.” He said as he nuzzled his cheek against yours. You let out an exhausted sigh and gave him a peck on the forehead as you ran your hand through his soft brown locks. “Did I do good, honey? Did you feel good?” 
You chuckled. “What do you think? You could’ve done better.” You joked as you rolled your eyes. He was quiet for a moment before leaning into your ear, his breath feeling hot against it. 
“You think so? Want me to make you feel better right now then?” He said, then kissed  the shell of your ear. 
Your cheeks flushed a bright pink. You playfully pushed his face away. “I was just joking! I can’t even move right now, Caleb!” “So, you do admit that I made you feel good.” He chuckled as he pinched your nose. You scrunch your nose as you roll your eyes again, nodding. 
“I guess. Now carry me to the bathroom and put me in the tub, handsome.” 
When Caleb effortlessly lifted you up bridal style, he gently laid you in the tub after he removed all of your clothes and turned on the water. He hummed to himself as he ran his hand through the water, making sure that the temperature was just right for you. He had an obvious and huge tent in his pants, along with the wet spot from your leaky cunt from earlier as well at the top of his pants. You lick your lips as your mouth watered at the idea of taking him whole. 
You grab his arm and pull him down to your height. “Since you treated me well, how about I return the favor?” You whispered in his ear. 
He looked at you for a moment before grinning as he started to take off his clothes. “If  you’re offering, who am I to reject then, my love?”
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secret-moonstruck · 11 hours ago
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PURITY SIGN | L. HS
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Weekly challenge: Contamination (secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68)
— Pairing: Heeseung x fem!reader | (Masterlist)
— Synopsis: The personification of purity also carried a curse. Heeseung was supposed to protect her but ended up committing the greatest sin in that kingdom by contaminating her body and soul, making her impure.
— Genre: smut, fantasy, drama
— Warnings: unprotected sex, mention of death, curse.
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Among all the elves, Y/N had the saddest fate.
Since before she was born her destiny was defined, she had the power of purification, she was the personification of purity. But the problem is that she was also cursed, she couldn't touch anything or anyone because would contaminate its purity. 
If she became impure, her curse would be released, everything and everyone she touched would be swallowed by darkness.
This made her life lonely, she couldn't be around other people, the only time she could leave the temple where she lived was when she had some purification ritual to perform. The only person he had contact with was Heeseung.
Heeseung was supposed to protect Y/N, from a young age his mission was to ensure that nothing or no one contaminated Y/N, the purest being in that kingdom. It wasn't difficult, she lived isolated from the rest of the world. 
Their work became difficult, when over the years, as they grew, as they became adults, each being everything the other had, their feelings began to become more and more complicated.
Y/N and Heeseung's days were a mix of joy, torture and sadness.
Joy because one was everything the other needed, every little thing they did made them happy, from the moment they woke up, when they went for a walk together, when they were simply relaxing in each other's company, when shared a meal, when they smiled at each other happy to be together, when they watched the stars before going to sleep.
Torture because even though they spent every moment of the day together, they couldn't touch each other, even when they were so close, just a few centimeters from each other, they had to avoid contact.
Sadness because every time they were about to give in, even a small touch, they had to move away. Fate was cruel to them, placed them next to each other, but built a barrier, a line that they could never cross.
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It was just another ordinary day, Y/N picking flowers in the woods or playing with some animal that came across there. Meanwhile Heeseung who was sitting on a big rock watched her, admiring her joy, he couldn't stop smiling as he saw her smiling as she filled her hair with flowers she picked, or how she ran after a rabbit happily, how she looked so pure, and it made his smile disappear, pure… he hated that word, hated how that little word drove them away.
Heeseung tried to convince Y/N that they should go back when he noticed that the weather was changing, they were too far away, they needed to get back before it started raining but Y/N didn't want to go back.
When the rain started Y/N finally gave in and agreed to come back home. As they ran home Y/N was happy even though she was soaked, she wasn't running to escape the rain she was running because she was happy, she didn't know why but she was feeling very light, free, even though it was a day like any other. 
When they crossed the large gates Heeseung continued trying to make Y/N be careful because he was afraid that she might fall down the stairs that led to his house. And that's exactly what happened, Y/N's heart sank for a brief moment as her feet slipped on the step, closing her eyes waiting for the fall, but it never came, instead she felt something she had never had before, a warmth, a comfort, that even though I had never felt it before, it seemed so familiar.
She slowly opened her eyes, afraid that she would discover that it was an illusion, that the sensation would disappear, but no, it was real. 
The moment Y/N slipped, it didn't even take half a second for Heeseung's arms to be around her body, protecting her.
As soon as Y/N looked into Heeseung's eyes she saw the panic on his face, not only that she had almost fallen, he had touched her. He committed the greatest crime and sin that could be committed in that kingdom. He knew he should let her go immediately but his body was frozen, he should let her go but he couldn't, his mind was completely filled with confusion. There she was, in his arms, how could he let go-there? How many times had he thought about what it would be like to touch her, feel her, and there she was. 
When his mind thawed, he quickly pulled her away, ensuring she was safe and well, but creating distance between them.
- It's too late Heeseung. - Y/N took his hand, making him go up the stairs. - “Nothing and no one can touch Y/N ​​or your curse will awaken.” That's what has always been said since I was born. You touched me, or me did I touch you? It doesn't matter, it's already done. Any contact was prohibited. Since we have broken this rule we have nothing left to fear.
Heeseung tried to pull his hand away from hers, but she continued holding firmly. Y/N knew that the moment she was even briefly touched, she was condemned, as soon as they found out they would order her death, she would become a risk to everyone.
During the rest of the short journey until they arrived at the house he remained silent, not knowing what to say, he was overcome with guilt, and I'm afraid, what would become of her? He was afraid of losing her. But Y/N was calm, in fact for some reason he didn't understand, she seemed relieved. 
Heeseung's body automatically stopped when they arrived in front of Y/N's room. But she still holding his hand made him enter.
- All these years were torture, knowing that even though I loved you, not even a simple touch could exist. Why is the act of simply touching your hand so wrong? - Y/N turned to Heeseung without ever letting go of his hand, her eyes fixed on his. - You know what's going to happen to me, don't you? This is our last day together, after that my existence will be considered a threat to everyone, they will not allow me to continue living. 
- No Y/N, it doesn't have to be like this, we can leave, live in hiding I can protect you.
- You know it's not possible, the moment I was born they marked me, so they could track me anywhere.
Y/N moved away from him a little, before releasing the ribbons that held her dress together, exposing her shoulder, to remind him of her mark.
- I don't want to leave with regrets. - She got closer and closer to him, she released her dress, the thin fabric was heavy and wet from the rain, she let it slide down her body with each step, Heeseung's eyes following her every movement as her exposed body approaches the from him. - I don't want my life to be this empty, I want you Heeseung, and I know you want me too. This is our only chance. Please don't let me go like this.
Tears ran down Y/N's face, her expression was a mix of sadness and desire. Heesung didn't hesitate, she was right, he couldn't let her go, not without showing how much he loved her, not without never having her, he hated that it had to be like this. He wanted to show his love in so many ways, but they couldn't enjoy their time together.
Heeseung closed the small distance between them, he pulled Y/N towards him, his hands touching her face tenderly, his fingers following every contour, every detail, until her lips, and then he kissed her.
A kiss covered in desire, in passion, years of repressed feelings being transmitted in that small moment between them. The feeling of their bodies finally coming together play, so long without any small touch existed, and now they could feel every part of each other, the more they could feel the more they wanted.
Heeseung's hands studied every part of Y/n's body while pulling her closer and closer to him, desperate to feel her. He picked her up on his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to his bed.
The kiss was interrupted briefly, while they were gasping for air, he released her onto his bed, and stopped to admire her for a small moment, not believing that it was real, there was the woman he had been deprived of touching for so many years, so beautiful, so soft, waiting to finally be touched and loved by him.
It wasn't long before his hands were once again traveling over Y/N's body, causing her to shiver as he felt and memorized every millimeter of her body. He wanted this moment to last forever.
- You're so perfect. - His voice filled with adoration as his eyes traveled from her body until he met Y/N's eyes. - I love every part of you. 
- Heeseung, please make me yours. - Y/N asked before wrapping her arms around his neck pulling him for another kiss that she wanted to engrave in her memory.
The kiss this time was more intense, covered by the heat that emanated from their bodies. The desperation they felt for this connection was too much for them. Heeseung moved away to get out of his clothes, Y/N hurried to finish removing hers as well. 
Time seemed to freeze for a moment as their eyes met, both seeing the desperation and desire for each other. Then as if time passed again they let their feelings take over, their lips joined again, while their now completely naked bodies were glued to each other, heat and desire covering them, their breaths heavy as Y/N felt Heeseung's lips trailing kisses down your neck.
Gasps spreading throughout the room as their bodies finally came together, moving slowly as if to savor the moment. Y/N's arms were firmly wrapped around Heeseung's body as he also hugged her, the movement of their bodies increasing, as the world disappeared, there was only them, and the certainty of how one was the other's everything.
While they wanted this moment to last forever, their bodies couldn't take it anymore, the pleasure filled them. going crazy as they exploded in ecstasy, as Heeseung filled Y/N's insides.
They were tired, sleepy, but they knew it was their last moments together, as they stood there with Y/N ​​lying on Heeseung's chest while he hugged her as if he could avoid fate.
- I need to confess something. - Y/N said, her voice shaking. - That moment on the stairs… it didn't make a difference, you touching me at that moment didn't change anything. The curse exists, but only something unclean could contaminate me, and that doesn't apply to you. You never thought or did anything bad to anyone, you are pure Heeseung. I already imagined this but I wasn't sure, but at that moment I realized, I could feel, that nothing had changed, I'm sorry for having carried this forward even though I knew.
- Does that mean you'll be okay? - Happiness covered his voice as he held her tighter in his arms.
- Unfortunately, it's not like that. That didn't change anything, but this did. I'm unclean Heeseung, my body has become unclean, I signed my death warrant myself, I'm sorry. I regret that in order for us to be together for a small moment I had to separate us forever.
- It doesn't matter, I know that we will meet again, even if it's in another life and then we can be together. You will be my Y/N and I will be yours. - He stated, he wouldn't live in a world without Y/N as soon as they killed her he would follow her.
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The day had barely lightened when Y/N heard them coming, she knew her mark was on them. would alert that his body and soul had been contaminated by the darkness of his curse. She kissed Heeeung's lips one last time, avoiding waking him, before getting dressed and accepting her fate.
There would be a big ritual, like Y/N normally performed them, needed go after at least 5 elves who had purification powers to get at least close to the Y/N power level. They feared that the moment they killed her her darkness would spread throughout the kingdom, so they needed days to prepare the ritual.
When the day finally arrived, Y/N fell into despair upon arriving at the great hall. 
- No. Why? Why is he here? He didn't do anything wrong. Let him go.
Y/N screamed when she saw Heeseung tied up and gagged on the other side of the room.
- Heeseung had a duty, to protect the personification of purity. Not only did he fail in his mission, he was to blame for defiling the purest soul in this realm. - One of the 7 elves who ruled declared.
- He's innocent, it was me. That's my fault. myself I decided so, only punish to me. - She begged.
- I am really sorry. You are a threat to this kingdom, and he is to blame.
The guards took the two to the middle of the hall, their swords pointed at the two. 
Heeseung and Y/N looked at each other one last time waiting for death. When someone intervened for them.
- That's not necessary. - Y/N recognized the elf who spoke, she had already seen her once, she had the power to see the future.
- Do you see something? - The elf questioned her.
- Indeed, Y/n's soul and body are no longer pure. But the child inside her is. They must live, the child must come into this world, she is the one who will protect this kingdom from darkness.
Upon hearing this Y/N immediately looked at Heeseung as the guards released them. They barely finished releasing him when he immediately went to Y/N taking her in his arms. Nothing needed to be said for her to know that his happiness was not only because they were still alive, but also because of the child that would come. 
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Y/N and Heeseung were allowed to live, but because of Y/N's curse she had to remain isolated, but now she couldn't even leave her house, Heeseung insisted that even if he ran the risk he wouldn't leave her, so the elves who were called to perform the ritual, they had to work on an amulet to protect him. When the child was born, Y/N's curse would cease to exist and only then would they be able to have a normal life, but they didn't care, they were happy to know that there was a future together that awaited them.
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Next challenge (02/14): Mermaid
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yunholic-jongholic · 2 days ago
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From Tension to Tenderness | J.YH x Reader
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SUMMARY | You have been trying to get Yunho's attention all day, but he keeps promising you one more round or five more minutes on his game. It’s bad enough you are wearing his hoodie and you and Yunho have a big fight. A bit later, Yunho feels bad about their previous treatment of you and tries to make amends. This, somehow, ends up with soft, gentle make up sex.
PAIRINGS | Yunho x Fem!Reader
RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!
CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, Some Fighting/Arguing, NSFW, Smut, Make Up Sex, Fingering, Praise Kink, Hand Kink, Breast-play, Unprotected Sex (Don't do that.), Creampie. Drug-Use-Mentioning, Alcoholism-Mentioning (I might miss some, not sure... Sorry if I did!)
WORD COUNT | 2.2k
AUTHOR NOTE | Screaming, Crying, Throwing Up. Y'ALL I FOR REAL FELT LIGHTHEADED WRITING THIS ONE. ANYWAYS FINALLY A YUNHO STORY!!! I AM SO SORRY for being this late lmao. I struggled with wanting to make a Yunho story but every topic I kept finding I found for other members more. lol Anyways, hope you enjoy my fellow hotteok sister wives!
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Yunho was sprawled on the couch in the living room, fully immersed in his video game. Meanwhile, you were in the bedroom, getting dressed after a refreshing shower. As you glanced around, you noticed his hoodie crumpled on the floor. Picking it up, you brushed off a bit of dust, the fabric still warm from his body. Without thinking much, you slipped it on, the faint scent of him lingering, a comforting reminder that he’d just worn it moments ago before diving into his game. You went to the living room and sat beside him watching him play his game.
"Hey," you said softly with a gentle smile, not really expecting a response since he was completely locked into his game. You moved closer, the familiar sounds of the game filling the room, and gently rested your head on his shoulder. The warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breathing brought a comforting sense of calm as you relaxed beside him, content just to be near him.
"Yunho..." you hummed softly, your voice laced with a hint of neediness as you sought his attention. He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips but didn’t respond. Determined, you scooted closer, nuzzling into the curve of his neck, your voice dropping to a gentle whisper. "Can you take a break? I want to cuddle with you."
He let out a small sigh, fingers still moving swiftly on the controller. "Just one more round, we’re almost done. Don’t worry, I’ll be yours in five minutes," he replied, eyes glued to the screen. You let out an exaggerated whine, clearly unimpressed with his usual excuse. "That’s always your response..." you pouted, crossing your arms dramatically.
You took his half-hearted apology as a sign that he was done and ready to give you, his attention. Without hesitation, you gently reached out, turning his face towards yours, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. For a brief moment, Yunho melted into the kiss, his lips responding warmly to yours.
But just as you thought you had won, he pulled back slightly, a sly grin flickering on his face, and—without missing a beat—started a new game. You stared at him in disbelief, your mouth slightly agape. "Seriously?" you huffed, your pout returning with full force.
Yunho chuckled under his breath, clearly amused, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I swear, after this one," he mumbled, though you knew better than to trust that promise. Determined, you plotted your next move—because this wasn’t over. You waited a couple more minutes and around he was nearly done with the round of his game. You laid on his lap wrapping your arms around his waist smiling up at him.
"Fuck!" Yunho let out a frustrated curse as his game ended in defeat once again. His irritation was palpable as he abruptly set the controller down, gently but absentmindedly pushing you to the side as he stood up, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. You huffed out angrily as he pushed you to the side.
"No, I’m sorry, but I really need to beat this round right now," Yunho groaned, plopping back down on the opposite side of the couch. Frustrated, he snatched up his controller, ready to start a new game. But before he could, you marched over and snatched the controller right out of his hands.
"Okay, you know what? I’m only asking for five minutes to cuddle. Just five minutes. You easily find time to play your games, even though you’re on them all day when I’m at work and school. You could be playing then," you snapped, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh, your patience wearing thin. He got up towering above you and stared down at you. You went silent, your lips trembling into a pout as you felt a sting behind your eyes, tears threatening to fall. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally spoke, your voice soft but laced with hurt.
"Yunho, I work every day to help us afford this life together. All I’m asking for is a little time with you. But it feels like you’d rather be glued to your games—you’re acting like you’re addicted." Your gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet his eyes as your heart ached.
In an instant, Yunho’s frustration shifted. His hand reached out, firm but not harsh, as he gently gripped your face, tilting it up so your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, sharp like daggers, filled with a mix of anger, guilt, and something else buried deep beneath the surface—something unspoken.
"I am not addicted, and if I was, you should be glad I’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol—something that could actually hurt you," Yunho growled through gritted teeth, his frustration boiling over. His harsh words hit you like a slap, and a slight shiver ran through your body. You pushed him away, the sting of his tone and the weight of his words sending tears streaming down your face.
"Well, I am glad you’re not…" you whispered, your voice trembling, thick with emotion. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Your heart pounding, you turned and walked quickly to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. The sharp click of the lock echoed in the silence that followed, leaving Yunho standing there, the air heavy with words that couldn’t be taken back.
About an hour had passed, the room now filled with the faint remnants of your quiet sobs, your tears soaked into the pillow you’d clung to like a fragile anchor. The weight of your first real fight with Yunho sat heavy in your chest, a painful contrast to the warmth and laughter that usually filled the space you shared. The man who had been your rock, your comfort, and your partner for three years now felt like a stranger—just on the other side of the door.
A soft knock echoed through the silence, hesitant and careful, as if Yunho wasn’t sure whether to disturb you or not. You closed your eyes, a small whine escaping your lips, the ache of the argument still fresh. You weren’t ready—not yet. Facing him meant confronting the hurt, the sharp words, and the emotions tangled in between.
Another knock followed, softer this time, almost like an apology wrapped in the sound. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, turning away from the door, fighting the urge to open it. The memory of his frustrated gaze lingered in your mind, but so did the warmth of all the moments you’d shared nights filled with whispered dreams, spontaneous laughter, and gentle touches.
But right now, all of that felt distant. You weren’t sure if you were ready to close that distance just yet. You heard Yunho's voice softly speak from the other side of the door.
"Y/N… can you please open the door?" Yunho's voice came through softly, filled with a hint of regret. You let out a heavy sigh, pushing yourself up from the bed. Slowly, you made your way to the door, hesitating for a brief moment before unlocking it. As you opened the door, your eyes met his, searching for something unspoken in his gaze. Without a word, he stepped inside, his presence filling the room as the tension hung in the air between you. Yunho hugged you softly wrapping his arms around your body. His warmth somehow comforted you.
"I'm sorry for the argument earlier..." he murmured with a sigh, his arms still wrapped securely around you. With a deep breath, you slowly lifted your arms—though they felt weighed down by lingering emotions—and gently wrapped them around his waist, returning his embrace. He slowly picked you up into his arms carrying you to the bed suggesting he wanted to cuddle and be comforted.
"I don't like we fought. I am really sorry baby." He whispered to you looking down at you as he softly pressed his lips against yours. You accepted his apology and continued to kiss him. You felt his arms lift your waist again now making you sit up on his lap.
"Let me make it up to you... I want you to know how much I love you..." he whispered and soon you felt his hands go up your body but underneath your clothes. He continued to kiss you, but it got more passionate. You felt his hand snap your bra off and he helped you take it off but leaving his sweater on you. You felt extremely warm feeling his hand caress your bare skin underneath his/your sweater.
"Yunho..." you hummed, shifting on his lap as he kept caressing your body. His lips now attached to your neck as he laid you on the bed and lifted the sweater to your chest exposing your breasts. Yunho softly placed his hand over one gently squeezing and rubbing the nipple with his thumb, causing you to moan softly. You pulled his face up from your neck to kiss him again. He then sat up and pulled your pants and underwear off along with his clothes. He was fully aroused in the moment and only needed you.
"I love you so much, you are so beautiful." Yunho whispered into your ear as he pulled u back onto his lap, now having your back face him as he lifted your legs up over his legs. His lips attached to your neck once again, now sliding his hand down your inner thigh caressing it. You felt the heat rush to your core getting you excited.
"I love you too Yunho." You moaned out as you felt one of his fingers rub against your cunt. You felt his other hand crawl up your waist onto your chest again as he squeezed and played with one of your breasts. You moaned a bit louder, feeling yourself melt in under his touch. Yunho finally slid one finger in between your folds commenting how wet you already are. You didn't respond only just so deep into this heating moment. Yunho groaned as he started practically fucking you with his finger causing you to moan louder.
"Yunho please!" You begged him gripping his wrist as he now shoved another finger in. It aroused him even more that you were weak and helpless when it comes to his hands, and he knew how to use them against you. You were now digging your nails into his wrists, moaning, and grinding upwards. He groaned at your actions.
"Fuck." he exhaled and kissed your neck deeply squeezing your breast even more as if it was a stress ball relaxing him. You threw your head back fighting the urge to moan extremely loud by biting your lip. Yunho couldn't take it anymore; he needed you so much now. He pulled his fingers out and laid you on your back hovering above you. You gave him a soft look in his eyes full of deep lust and love.
"You drive me absolutely crazy," he chuckles softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Yunho lifts one leg as he aligns the tip of his cock right against your entrance. He slowly pushes in groaning at the feeling. He leans over you and starts thrusting into you. You moan nonstop now.
You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips meet again, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that speaks volumes. His hands instinctively find their way to your waist, holding you as if afraid to let go, the tension from earlier melting away with every passing second.
Yunho thrusts in deeper causing you to whine from the pleasure. You felt your insides practically melting as his tip kissed your sweet spot causing you to let out higher and louder moans.
"Yunho!" You almost scream feeling him now practically getting sloppier with his thrusts. Yunho's cock was twitching inside you causing your sensitive insides to wrap around him nicely. He groaned whispering in your ear, "I am about to cum." He wrapped his hand over your neck sitting up as he was now pounding deep inside you.
"Please..." you moaned loudly, soon he gave one final deep thrust before cumming inside. You felt his warmth leave you as he pulled out. You were both panting exhaustedly. Yunho laid down beside you and kissed your lips softly wrapping his arms around you cuddling you.
"I love you very much Y/N." Yunho smiled at you. You smiled back kissing his nose, "I love you too Yunho." you giggled feeling better you both made up.
I am weak on my knees right now. I for real felt so lightheaded and dizzy writing this. this is absolutely insane. I am sorry for annoying y'all with stories... Lol.
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bamboozledbird · 20 hours ago
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oᥒᥴᥱ ι'm ყoᥙrs ι'm ᥲᥣᥕᥲყs ყoᥙrs //stiles stilinski imagine characters: stiles stilinski, fem!reader, mentioned malia tate pairing(s): stiles x you word count: 4k tags: exes to ???, hurt some comfort, set in s5 warnings: some light emotional cheating, i think that's it, sad boy hours, *pats stiles’s head* this boy can fit so much trauma in here
a/n: long time no see. i've missed you my babies, and thank you so much for all the love while i was gone. i'm back with my usual overdose of angst and em dashes. i can't help it; i have a sickness. also, the timing of when stiles and malia got together is a little fudged, so they probably started dating in 4b.
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It’s an icy slice of fear that wakes you up. A white flash of ‘fight or flight’ behind your sleep-sticky lids. A rattling that doesn’t belong to the pitter-patter of sleet or the whiplash of wind against your bedroom window. You sit up on your forearm, peek out from behind your fleece blanket, and pray until you’re nauseous that there isn’t a pair of glowing eyes waiting for you on the other side of the glass. 
The sleet leaves angry rivulets in the dirt-smudged panes. Sad little lines of streaming water, flooding in time with the choppy squall—you can’t help but think it looks like weeping.
A soft sigh falls from your mouth and stirs the stilted air in the room: No skulking eyes…but a foreboding sense of unease still looms above your head like the plumes of steely clouds outside your window. They swallow every trace of starlight and shift every so often in your peripheral vision, almost like they’re alive.  
The rattling sounds again, soft but deafening in the darkness. It’s a familiar sound, someone scrambling on the loose tiling of your roof, but a forgotten one. 
It’s strange, sweet-sharp, and out of place in your current reality. A noise that shouldn’t exist outside of a memory. 
Stiles spills into your room and lands on his knees, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. His hair is plastered to his forehead from the storm outside, and the dark clouds are a mocking reflection of the look on his face. 
The moon has eclipsed all the sunlight in his eyes, and it feels so, so cold.
For a moment, you think you’re dreaming, or maybe you’re still stuck in that luminescent oil slick spill between sleep and consciousness. Stiles looks like something from a dream—from a nightmare. He’s a boy, but he isn’t. He’s there, but he isn’t. He’s lost to something you can’t see, swept up in the storm and turned into something else.
The glow of your phone illuminaties the pinch of your brow, the squint of your bleary eyes. 3:27 am. Stiles used to sneak in through the window a couple times a week, even during the day, just to avoid the parental inquisition. He still does sometimes, rarely, only when Beacon Hills is on the verge of collapsing—and it always seems to be 3 in the morning. 
He only ever needs you at 3 in the morning. 
It makes you feel a little sick, a reminder that the only string tying you together now is barbed wire.  
You sit up in your bed and wait for Stiles to say something—to move—but he doesn’t. He just sits there, soaked to the bone on his knees, and stares at something beyond the shifting shadows on your bedroom walls. 
“Stiles?” 
Stiles doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even make a sound. 
You crawl out of your bed and sit down on the floor next to him, draping a woven blanket over his shoulders. It almost matches his flannel, blue and checkered. It’s a little thing that would’ve made you smile before, mostly because Stiles would get this warm look in his eyes when you did: so fond it felt like worship. 
It’s fall. The air smells like apples and earth. You watch the shadows of little fish swim in jagged circles through murky lake water. Stiles is a warm presence against your side. 
He buries his nose in your hair and hums, “You like the pieces.”
A fish breaks from the group and bubbles near the surface. Its silver scales gleam in the setting sun: a piece of a fractured landscape, a detail that steals all the color in your peripheral vision. 
You watch the fish swirl for a moment, almost like it’s dancing, and then shrug with a little grin. “I guess.”
You feel Stiles smile against your temple.
“Me too.”
Now, the only color your retinas can detect is black. 
Stiles’s pupils swallow his face, and they stick to everything like tar. Seep into the room and stain the moonlight until the blue haze over his skin looks more sickly than luminous. He looks alarmingly corpse-like, so still on your floor, slimy from the storm keening outside—hollowed out from the storm rotting inside. 
You sigh after a moment; a soft little sound to break the surface of strained silence coating the room. “Come on.”
It doesn’t take much prodding. Stiles bends to your guiding hands mindlessly and sits down on the edge of your bed without so much as a grunt. Pliant and robotic in the same breath. Ever the paradox, your boy is.
Though. 
He’s not, really. Yours, that is. 
Not anymore. 
Not for a long time. 
“Everything’s so fucked up.” 
Stiles is quiet, but his whisper still startles you. His voice is raw—and maybe, you’d really convinced yourself that he was dead. It feels like he is sometimes. At least, a version of him. Stiles, in the mole-speckled flesh, he’s a ghost of the boy you knew, a killer of the figment boy you never lost. A paradox. So difficult to read. Impossible to hold on to. 
Stiles doesn’t notice that you’ve gone silent, but he doesn’t really seem to notice anything beyond the wet film over his eyes. 
“I don’t…I don’t see a way out this time. I don’t know…” he scrubs a hand over his face and looks infinitely older than eighteen, “I don’t think I can fix it—any of it.”
You’re reminded, briefly, of the night he broke up with you. When you looked up, saw the look on his face, and you knew. You have the same sick feeling in your stomach now, and you want to crawl inside yourself until the flip-flopping of your intestines stops—to wring them into little knots until there’s nothing left. 
Stiles looks like he feels about the same, so small on your bed for such a lanky man. 
“What?” You pull your knees to your chest and hold onto your shins so that you don’t reach for him. “The Nemeton? We’ll find it again…eventually, and—”
“No,” Stiles grits his teeth and closes his eyes, “I mean, yes, but it’s…everything. Everything’s falling apart.” 
“Not everything. You’ve always got—”
“Not anymore.” Stiles gets that dead-inside look behind his eyes again, and your stomach turns. “You and me…and Scott—”
Your sheets whisper against your legs as you shift towards him. “Scott?”
You’ve seen Stiles wear pretty much every expression under the sun—backlit by shitty diner lights, laughing; tangled up in white sheets, panting; drenched in sweat, sobbing—but god. The way Stiles looks now, like his soul has been bleached from his bones, drained from his eyes with a power drill, it’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen. Worse than the Nogistune, because it’s Stiles. Whatever this skeleton on strings is, it’s him.  
“I fucked up.” Stiles whispers so softly you can barely hear him over the cracks in his voice, “I fucked up so bad.”
It takes you a second to realize that he’s talking about Scott. Dumb, considering you asked, but you’ve imagined him saying that to you so many times it almost feels like a memory—like he’s talking about you. 
You clear your throat and pull at a loose string on your blanket until it snaps. “He’ll get over it. He always does.”
Stiles just shakes his head, keeps his eyes trained on his muddy sneakers. “Not this time.”
Your fingers twitch with the impulse to grab his hand. “What happened, Stiles?”
“I…” Stiles rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the taste of his thoughts. He swallows and then stands, tugging a little on his wet hair until it sticks up in random tufts—it would be cute under any other circumstances, if Stiles didn’t have a disturbingly manic look in his eyes and a desperate tumble of words flooding from his split lip. “The ends justify the means was just a thought experiment, right? Machiavelli was an academic, not a soldier—you know what kind of people actually practice Machiavellianism? Stalin, Mao—Peter ‘fuckin’ killed my own niece’ Hale.”
Your brow scrunches as you try to find the invisible path connecting all his seemingly disjointed thoughts. “Stiles—”
“And I know I rag on Scott all the time for being too soft,” Stiles sneakers squeak against the floor as he continues pacing, without a breath or so much as a glance in your direction. He might as well be pontificating to the darkness. “I mean, fuck, how many times have I said it’d be easier if we just killed the psycho? A dozen? Definitely enough for one of those stupid fuckin’ ‘take a shot’ memes.”
Stiles stops abruptly mid-step and finally looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time tonight. His Bambi eyes look so big right now, completely open and boundless on his sweet face, like the child he hasn’t been since sophomore year. “I didn’t…I don’t really mean it, you know. I don’t actually want...” 
His voice is so small it breaks your heart.  
“I know,” you say softly, coaxing him to stay here with you, in the moment.
Stiles blinks at you slowly and hangs his gaze on your face like it’s the moon. “I know it would kill him…feeling like this.” He spits it out like ‘this’ is something vile, poison on his tongue.  
Your stomach sinks, and a prickling sensation of hot-cold settles through your sinew. You lick your drying lower lip and methodically rub your clammy palms up and down your thighs. “Feeling like what?”
Stiles’s momentary dip into the present fades with the next blink of his clumped lashes. 
He starts pacing again, bending and flexing his fingers with twitching gestures that clarify little and worry greatly. “I get it, totally support it as a concept. I mean, the greater good outweighs a scumbag or two—conceptually, because how do you really define scumbag? And that’s if you use a qualifier; real consequentialists think it’s totally fine to kill whoever the fuck you want as long as it’s in the name of a good outcome.” 
You blink a few times and drag your tongue over your teeth, “Right…killing innocent people: bad. That’s the general consensus.”
Stiles’s eyes dart back to your face. “What if they aren’t?”
“Aren’t what?” 
Maybe, if it weren’t almost four in the morning, you’d be able to follow his tangential breakdown. Maybe, if you hadn’t become dependent on his quiet sleep-babbling to fall asleep at night, if he hadn’t become the only thing capable of bleaching the nightmares from your eyelids, your temples wouldn’t be throbbing so violently. But it is almost 4 am, and you haven’t fallen asleep next to Stiles in over a year—no matter how right he looks when he sits down next to you on your bed.
Stiles’s throat bobs with his swallow before he says, “What if they aren’t innocent?”
“Stiles,” you grab one of his hands and search his face, scan every solemn line and curve for some semblance of meaning, “what’s going on?”
Stiles chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath, going stiff—bracing himself for the fallout. His voice is thick with fear when he finally whispers, “What if someone was going to hurt someone you cared about?”
You let out a heavy sigh and study his expression, eyes flickering across the unrelenting question written in his pinched forehead and glassy eyes. “Do the ends justify the means?” 
Stiles nods and bites down on his jagged thumbnail, “Yeah.”
You hold Stiles’s gaze so that he can see your eyes, so earnest they almost look pained, and nod, slow and definitive. “Yeah.”
It takes a second, but when his body catches up with his brain, Stiles collapses in on himself. Turns into a ragdoll of relief and wet clothes, and drops his head into his shaking hands. 
“F-fuck,” Stiles exhales and wipes his face dry with cruel scrubs of his hands. “Sorry—I just…” he digs his thumbs into his temples and trembles, “I’m losing my fucking mind, and I didn’t know where else to go.” He glances up from his hands, looks so devastatingly lovely as he peers up at you through his wet lashes it hurts, and murmurs, “There wasn’t anywhere else…anyone else. Nobody…” 
Stiles shakes his head slightly and clears his throat, but his words are still syrupy with so much meaning when he says, “I don’t really feel like I’m…me anywhere else.” He pauses again, and you forget how to breathe when his gaze refocuses on your eyes. His tongue flicks over his split lip, and then he whispers, “I’m not me unless I’m with you.”
This boy. This boy. He can wreck you without even trying. 
You have to reorient yourself before you get stuck on the drizzle of honey in Stiles’s eyes. They’ve always been so…alive. There’s an entire ecosystem in his irises, savanna grass swaying under the glow of sunset. A blackhole in his pupils, bending and distorting your every thought to Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.  Stop. Breathe. Count your fingers. 
Your arms are around your shins, the air is cold, and Stiles has someone who isn't you.
You still wake up with the taste of him sticking to your teeth, sweet honey and sharp cloves, but it’s never enough. Lately, it lingers like a cavity.  
You spent so long thinking you weren’t supposed to be friends, and you weren’t. You were supposed to be together—now you don’t know what you’re supposed to be. How can you belong to a memory?
What does Stiles think when he looks at you now? Does a thought even come? 
Does he ache for who you were that Friday at the lake? Does he still love that girl in his arms–orange and warm under the setting sun, blissfully unaware of the end? 
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Oh, he does. Stiles aches for you, thinks of you, constantly. He meant what he said; he only feels solid when it's just you, him, and the shiny little bubble that keeps out the rest of the world. He doesn’t feel…real when he’s around other people, pretending like everything’s fine. Like he hasn’t lost every shiny piece of the life he had before his mind was stolen. 
That’s how it is for Stiles now; there’s before, and then there’s after. He can feel the schism widening with every single fucked up thing he does. Lately, it feels like that’s the only thing he does: completely and catestrophically fuck up. 
The thing is, when they finally got him—it—out, Stiles thought that would be it. Happily ever after. Evil expunged. Demon defeated. End-stop. No page turn. Cheers to the Nemeton. Stiles learned, very quickly, that you can’t purge darkness. It always leaves a mark. 
The days after…everything, Stiles discovered that rotting was a real human emotion. He still can’t believe people don’t smell it on him. The remnants of Stiles haven’t stopped putrefying in the Nogistune’s absence, and he just knows, somehow, that something this malignantly alive is contagious. He didn’t want to ruin you—doesn’t, Stiles corrects himself before he can finish the thought—doesn’t want to contaminate something so good with something so sick. 
Or maybe…maybe it was because Stiles knew that you’d see it. You’d see it, and you’d leave. 
The only clean thing he has is memories. He can’t stain the past. The figment girl in his mind can’t hurt. Can’t die. Can’t run. Stiles keeps you there—or, at least, some version of you, a you he can keep underneath the shelter of his ribcage, where you can watch the sunset turn fish scales into topaz in his maroon jacket, happy, forever.
Stiles can’t really remember the last time he saw you, the real version of you, happy. You must have laughed without him at some point, but he can’t think of anything other than when you were with him. Well, that, and the end. Stiles remembers the end with painful clarity. 
You were at a lake. The lake. Somehow, it only occurs to Stiles now how shitty that must’ve been for you. Anyway, you just sat there for a while, and he just listened to the silence wash over the world like a flood until the sun reached its peak. He remembers thinking: Holy fuck, this is what they meant. All those stupid songs and poems. This is what it means to break. Stiles couldn’t stand the way you kept your eyes closed, like you were afraid of seeing the inevitable car crash. If I kiss her, he’d thought, everything will be okay. If I kiss her, she’ll forgive me. 
Stiles didn’t kiss you. He just said, “I’m sorry,” and the words hung heavily over your heads. In the harrowing quiet, Stiles thought: I never realized cordial could sound so much like cowardly. 
“What are you doing here, Stiles? What is this?” 
Your voice drags Stiles from the gutters of his mind, and feels a fresh wave of shame when he hears how tired you sound. What is he doing here? Stiles knew it was a mistake before he even started his Jeep, but the flicker of doubt in Scott’s eyes drowned out his best intentions. 
“I just…” Stiles swallows, and his hand moves to scratch at his wounded shoulder reflexively. He…he just needed to be with the only person on the face of this planet that still knew him—who would get it.
You get tired of waiting, and when you speak again, Stiles feels about two inches tall. 
“You should be with her.” You say it nicely enough. Polite. No venom to fill the awkward hollowness. Cordial. 
Fuck. Stiles fucking hates cordial. He kind of wishes you would yell at him. At least, then, he’d know that you still cared. 
Stiles clasps his hands together between his thighs and leans his weight onto his elbows. He probably should be with Malia. No. He definitely should, but he’s not. And right now, like this, he doesn’t want to be. 
“She’s not good at…” Stiles clears his throat and sits up a little, “she tries, but she just…can’t.”
It’s not even her fault, and that’s probably the worst part about it. He doesn’t want to be another bad thing that’s happened to Malia Tate, but bad things just seem to be his specialty lately. 
“You know why you like her, right?” you say softly, not unkindly, but Stiles thinks he isn’t going to like the answer—mostly, because he’s sure it’s true. 
“No.” Stiles pauses and draws a circle in the dust with his pointer finger, “Well, I mean, yeah. Didn’t know you put so much thought into it.”
You don’t bother to dignify such a blatant lie with a direct response. That’s fair, Stiles thinks, and tries not to shrink in on himself.
Instead, you lift your shoulder like it’s made of marble and murmur, “She needs you.”
It’s innocuous enough—sweet, even, under different circumstances—but Stiles feels it like a blade. He clears his throat; it doesn’t help the dryness. He manages to arch a brow as he pushes out a raspy little, “So?”
The corner of your mouth lifts into a small smile; Stiles can still see it quiver. “You’re a control freak,” you bump his knee with your own, and it’s the first place on his body Stiles can actually feel, “and you and I both know she’s never going to be the one to end it.”
That was just like you; even your jokes are wrapped up inside an argument. It always left him frozen in a maddening power struggle between quipping something snarky and kissing you. No one else had ever managed to keep him on the ropes like you, and maybe that’s why no one after has managed to keep his, admittedly, short-attention span for long. Stiles has always liked his sweetness with a little bite. 
Of course, now there was no sweetness between the two of you. It’s all uncomfortable silences and unspoken thoughts that left his teeth aching for something more
Stiles’s jaw goes tight as he brings his lips to his knuckles, feeling a bit like bearing down on the bone. “That’s what you think happened?” He glances at you, eyes a little haunted, “I couldn’t control you, so I ended it?”
You tilt your head to the side, so sympathetic it makes Stiles a little nauseous as you murmur, “I think you realized that I didn’t need you; I think it scared the hell out of you.” You say it so softly, and it impales him the heart, right through the fucking center. 
It would be one thing if you were angry; people say stupid shit they don’t actually mean when they’re angry all the time—but this? You look like you mean it. You look like you mean it, and you’re saying it for his own good. The look on your face, it looks a whole lot like the truth 
And.
Maybe it is. 
It’s not like you’re wrong. Stiles remembers thinking it, more than once. He remembers more than a few mornings where he woke up to the sound of your breathing, your warm breath washing over his neck, and he thought he’d probably die if you ever stopped. It felt like an epiphany every time, the reminder that without you his world would be irreparably changed. 
Dark. Without you, Stiles’s world would go dark. 
Maybe, the Nogistune was just an excuse. Maybe, Stiles had been leapfrogging over his heart for a long time before then. Avoiding the future. Wrapping the present around your body and constantly thinking: I can’t believe it's not over yet. 
Yet. Yet. Yet. 
Maybe, Stiles thought about it so much he tempted fate. Maybe, that’s why the Nogistune chose him. Maybe, he should stop scapegoating the devil. He did end up with Malia after all. 
It’s different with her. Not bad necessarily, just different. He takes care of her, and he’s good at that. Making the plan. Having the answers. 
Being in control. 
With you…that was different. 
Stiles is a cynic at heart, but when he looked at—looks at—you, he felt less lonely. When he was with you, he kind of got why his dad used to always show up to work 15 minutes late because he got distracted by the way his mom made coffee. The simple domesticity, the comfort of a morning routine for the rest of his life, the concept of tried and true blue love: Stiles got it all when he saw you.  
You saw his happiness, and you gave it back to him. Every single time. That kind of love…it’s become abundantly clear to Stiles that kind of love is hard to find. Like maybe, once in a lifetime hard to find. 
Stiles swallows hard and shakes his head. “Whatever it was I was afraid of,” his voice drops to a whisper, “this is so much worse.”
You’re still the only person he can really cry in front of. Stiles is reminded of that when his eyes burn and something wet drips onto his lips. He sniffles quietly, feeling so incredibly small when he realizes the sound is coming from him. 
Stiles can’t look up from his shoes—won’t—and then you speak. You’re so quiet he almost misses it. 
“Life’s a lot better when you’re in it.”
The corners of Stiles’s mouth twitch into a small smile. The first one in about a week. Feels like much, much longer. 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
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peachhcs · 20 hours ago
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Hannah surprises James today at the beanpot. She said she couldn’t make it but she could and wanted to surprise him.
you read my mindddd😌 the blurb immediately came to me when i saw the beanpot posts HAHA
au masterlist
the td garden was packed with boston college and northeastern fans for the highly anticipated annual beanpot. fans lined the arena and across the wall as the players poured onto the ice to start warmups. the students were on their feet yelling down to the eagles and booing northeastern. the boys ate it up through as they skated the around the glass encouraging the fans to keep it going.
there was one fan in the crowd tucked away that none of the players would recognize her unless she made herself more apparent. hannah and james talked earlier in the week where the gymnast mentioned that she probably didn’t think she could convince her coach to give her off for a day. james was slightly disappointed, but he did understand because negotiating with college coaches wasn’t easy.
however, what james didn’t know was that hannah already had her ticket booked for the game when they talked. the girl was starting to turn into samy because she just loved the idea of getting to surprise her boyfriend and just showing up after convincing him she wouldn’t be there.
she spotted his number 10 down on the ice doing his usual warmups with the guys. a proud smile sat on her lips knowing how much he was looking forward to this game and how much it meant to him to finally be able to play in it. tonight hannah sported some old boston college merch samy lended and she painted a small #10 on her cheeks and then the eagle on the other.
the younger duke sister wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to make herself apparent or known that she was in attendance. she didn’t know if telling james before the game would distract him, or if just waiting until after would be better? or if him spotting her in the middle of the game would be even worse?
hannah didn’t really have time to contemplate her answers much longer because someone did end up spotting her. as ryan flew past her section, his eyes were on the fans and that’s when he spotted her familiar face in the sea of crimson. the brunette stopped in his tracks and skated back, a wide, confused smile on his lips.
“duker!” he yelled making the girl flush when the other boston college students glanced in her direction.
ryan looked excited to see her. he spun on his skate to find james to tell him who was here. hannah’s blush rose when some of the other fans noticed and recognized who she was.
“haggy! you’re never gonna guess who’s here!” ryan yelled when he got closer to his teammate who was on the other end of the rink.
“who?” james wondered.
“your girl is here,” ryan grinned widely and james’ shocked expression mirrored his own seconds ago.
“hannah’s here?”
“yeah!” ryan pulled james’ arm back towards hannah’s section. he pointed up to the girl who shyly waved down at them.
james’ mouth dropped open in complete shock and then a warm, fuzzy feeling bursted throughout his chest as the happiness slowly overtook the surprise.
she was here.
“go say hi, i’ll cover for you,” ryan pushed the boy towards the door where hannah was already making her way to the floor.
james lifted up his helmet briefly when hannah stood before him, “you’re here,” he mumbled.
“i’m here. surprise,” the gymnast grinned.
“i can’t believe you’re here. i-i thought..how did you?..” the words died in his throat along with every coherent thought in his brain.
“i may have sort of lied when we talked last week. i already had the flight booked. figured i’d try out this whole surprise thing,” hannah giggled and james didn’t even care that the entire boston college student body was watching him.
he pulled her into his arms, that warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body at the feeling of her wrapped around him. james wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he missed having her in his arms like this.
“i missed you so much. i can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
“i missed you too, hags. it’s good to see you,” hannah smiled and james also couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.
he heard a few whistles probably from the students watching them still, but he couldn’t less. he hadn’t seen hannah since winter break and even that wasn’t enough time because of world juniors taking up a majority of that break.
hannah slowly directed their lips away knowing people were watching and they could save it for after the game when an entire arena couldn’t see them. “you should get back, but i’ll see you after. score some goals for me,” she smiled.
“oh, you know i will,” the boy beamed, kissing her one last time before skating back on before one of the coaches yelled at him.
hannah blushed before making her way back to her seat. a few of the fans glanced her way, but she mostly ignored the murmurs.
that was probably the most public they’ve ever been with their relationship and neither of them hated it. actually, it sent this strong feeling through james’ chest that everyone just watched him kiss his girlfriend in a sold out arena because now everyone knew she was his.
the eagles dominated the ice in an overwhelming 8-2 victory. the fans were loud and electric as they celebrated the first win of the tournament. hannah kept to herself outside of the locker rooms. she watched the replays of all of the game winning goals knowing james was going to be ridding a really good high tonight.
the boy was eager to see her again, so he basically rushed through his shower. he knew he didn’t have a lot of time until he needed to get back on the bus, but he hoped hannah was up for crashing at his dorm for the night.
he rushed out of the locker room in search of her. hannah looked up as soon as james started running towards her, now back in his suit with damp hair from his shower. she giggled when he wrapped her into his arms and spun her around.
“congrats on the win,” she smiled.
“i told you i’d score some goals,” james smiled as well.
“you were amazing out there. i’m proud of you,” the girl gushed.
he took this more quieter opportunity to kiss her without the anxiety of everyone watching. their lips moved in slow sync with each others, savoring it more than before. if james could kiss her all night he would because he would never get over the feeling of her lips on his.
“i’m so glad you came. i was really hoping you would,” the hockey player said when they finally pulled away.
“i’d never miss this. this is your moment,” hannah cupped his face where he leaned into her touch.
“i gotta get back on the bus soon, but what are the chances you’ll come crash at my dorm?” the boy grinned.
“100%, just tell me when,” hannah agreed.
“perfect, i will. god, i’m so glad you’re here. i’ll see you super soon,” james kissed her one last time before meeting his team.
hannah smiled to herself, that same warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling in her own stomach as she headed back to her hotel to await james’ text that she could head to his dorm.
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tortoise-teapot · 7 months ago
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i have genuinely the most cursed birthday possible.
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norikuna · 2 months ago
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SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni
PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁
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prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?
pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader
warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)
word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa
a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!
dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!
gojo in this fic:
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ACT I. don't puck around and find out!
"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."
"gojo satoru?"
"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."
you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.
"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."
"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.
"so?" you press on.
"so, what?"
"what did gojo say?"
"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."
"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"
not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.
it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.
"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."
right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.
"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.
choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.
this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"
choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"
"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.
choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"
"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."
choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."
"we are friends. and i don't get weird."
"you get so weird. even yuki said so."
"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"
the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.
"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.
"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.
"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.
choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"
"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.
"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"
"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"
your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.
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ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine
you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.
study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.
your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.
gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.
but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.
"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.
"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.
"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.
but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.
study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.
"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.
"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"
you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."
gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."
you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."
"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."
"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.
"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."
his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.
besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.
and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.
"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"
as in why are you really here? please ask me out.
gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."
the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.
you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."
"why wouldn't i be?"
"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"
absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.
"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.
"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.
but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."
gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."
you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.
but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.
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ACT III. between the covers
the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.
you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.
you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —
thud!
your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.
"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.
"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.
gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.
he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.
"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."
you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."
gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?
"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.
"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."
you blink, "you're actually studying?"
gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"
you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."
he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.
but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'
it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.
and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.
but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.
"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."
you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."
gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."
you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.
"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"
ah, now that's a curveball.
because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.
and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.
"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."
gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"
"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.
"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.
you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."
"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."
you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"
gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."
"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"
gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."
"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."
"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.
as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.
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ACT IV. blush confidential
there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.
"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.
"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."
you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."
shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"
"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.
"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"
you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."
your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"
"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.
you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."
shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.
"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."
"and the other half?"
"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."
"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."
yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.
"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"
you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."
"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.
"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"
shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"
"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.
"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"
utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."
"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."
yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."
you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."
"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.
"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.
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ACT V. stereo love
normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.
but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.
so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.
"you good?"
suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.
gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."
suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."
"you think too little of me."
"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"
gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"
suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."
this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.
truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.
but now the joke was so clearly on him.
because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.
suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.
but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.
"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.
"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."
"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.
"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."
gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."
suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."
"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"
"and are you?"
gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"
"a loser."
"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"
"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."
gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."
"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."
"excuse me?"
"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."
"did you pick up a self help book?"
suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."
"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.
suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."
"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?
but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.
suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."
oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?
gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.
if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.
gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.
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ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.
"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."
gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.
you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.
"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —
let's rewind.
five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.
his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.
still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.
from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.
"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."
for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.
"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."
naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."
and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.
"hey!"
you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.
but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...
you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.
"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.
your brow furrows, "what?"
"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."
you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?
the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.
and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.
"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."
"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"
the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"
"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.
"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."
he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."
you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"
gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.
"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."
"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."
gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."
he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."
you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.
"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."
gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"
"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."
gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."
"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.
gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."
"with your future oscar nomination?"
the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."
"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"
"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"
you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.
gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.
you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.
when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.
gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."
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shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"
utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"
suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."
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ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!
gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.
right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.
"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.
"s-satoru!"
"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.
no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."
his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.
it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.
the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.
and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.
"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.
it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.
his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.
but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.
that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.
gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.
his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.
"satoru, c-can't you...?"
he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"
and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.
"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"
he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.
he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.
grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.
gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.
making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.
"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.
"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.
what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.
and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.
you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.
you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.
only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.
"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"
you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.
"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"
geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.
geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."
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"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.
you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.
choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.
before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."
choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.
to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."
your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"
yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."
sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."
"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."
yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."
"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.
and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."
your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.
satoru 🪐
good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]
"ugh, gross."
sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."
"get a life, holy fuck."
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chuluoyi · 1 year ago
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the secret wife
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- nanami kento x reader
follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!
genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is
note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')
general masterlist
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On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...
“Hello? Yuji—”
Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.
“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”
Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.
“Oh? What's—”
“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”
And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—
—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.
“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.
Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...
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Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.
And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.
“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.
One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.
“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”
And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.
But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.
And did he feel so miserable afterwards.
. . .
“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”
Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.
"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."
"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"
"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."
And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”
"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"
"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"
Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—
"I'm going after them!"
"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"
Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.
Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.
Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.
The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.
"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"
Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.
"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"
"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"
Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"
With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?
Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"
And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."
"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.
"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"
After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.
"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"
"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"
"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.
"Eh? Huh!?"
Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—
Crash!
"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.
"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"
"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"
"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.
Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."
"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.
Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"
For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.
It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.
Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"
Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.
“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”
“S-so you are married!”
“Yes, that was what I—”
“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”
Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.
Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”
“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”
“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.
"Aren't we friends?! How—!"
"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.
Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.
Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.
"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"
"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.
Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.
There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.
"Gojo," Megumi blurted.
"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.
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Epilogue
"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"
That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.
"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"
You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."
Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."
"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."
"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.
"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”
Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.
"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"
"People like Gojo are confused—"
Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."
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sanjisblackasswife · 8 months ago
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JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)
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…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.
Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso
Black ! Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC
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Gojo
Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled
He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.
He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.
“You have a very voluptuous—“
“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”
“You don’t know what the word vo—-“
“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”
Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?
No.
No he cannot.
He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.
He’s so got damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on
“CAN YOU STOP.”
“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”
When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite
Yup.
Moomoo.
Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.
Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.
He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man when he initially was a boob guy.
Geto
He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.
He loves watching you put on clothes.
Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.
If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.
One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.
He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.
Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.
The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.
He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?
Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and hump against you into the cool shower wall.
He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , only you and him know the real intention behind it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.
Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.
“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”
“YES.”
“Good, now c’mere.”
Toji
Ass eater.🫵🏾
That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.
Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro
You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE
As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.
“You like my dress?”
“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”
SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil
He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere
For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.
“OOWWUH!”
“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”
Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.
Toji is your new seat btw.
Not just his pretty face but his lap too.
He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him. It ACTUALLY wounds his ego more than you think.
Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure dom kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly what can get you off before him
Nanami
This man here.
A KING.
Freaky king but a king none the less.
He loves every part of you.
Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out in fear he may stop out of embarrassment or awareness.
Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back
Nanami however does this
ESPECIALLY on date night.
Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself
“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”
“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”
And now hes blushing.
He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.
Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.
Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.
“It’s okay, baby, honest. Use my face.”
“Kentoooo—!??”
One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.
Choso
Lord bless him.
He is very….confused to say the least.
He never understood the attraction of women’s parts.
Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.
“Oh.”
“…oh?”
“You—“
You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.
Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT under all of those clothes!
“You’re sex—cute…”
Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…
You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.
Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.
So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.
Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.
Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind
Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.
Moans at the sight everytime
No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.
He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and hump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.
If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.
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hederasgarden · 2 months ago
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Post tenebras lux
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Summary: You are gifted to Lucius as a reward for his prowess in the arena. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 5.9 K  Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Heavy angst with a HEA, dubious consent (reader and Lucius are coerced into having sex), public sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death, and brief descriptions of blood/injuries from combat in the arena. A/N: I futzed with the timeline in this fic. Instead of coming home after conquering Numidia General Acacius is sent out on another campaign for the emperors. Also, fun fact — the Romans considered oral sex taboo. A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar, my beloved B, @clairewritesandrambles, @ryebecca, and @faebirdie for their help with the fic. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.
Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist
The warm steam of the bath clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you move past the large pools where gladiators soak and laugh. Their rough voices fill the humid air and the afternoon sun filters through the open atrium, casting a muted, golden glow across the water. None of the men bother you as you make your way to the quiet alcove at the far end of the room. If Lucius's reputation in the arena hadn’t been enough to keep them away, the man whose hand he took for daring to touch you certainly was.
You’d learned quickly that in this place violence was power, and your gladiator wielded it well. It was a far cry from your life as a fisherman‘s wife, and then as a slave in Macrinus’s household. When you were gifted to Lucius, you braced yourself for the brutal ways of his world, where strength ruled above all else, and men like him took what they wanted without hesitation. But he never did. Instead, Lucius treated you with something you hadn’t expected: respect and kindness. His touch only ever lingered long enough to offer reassurance, never to claim.
In time you both learned to play your parts to survive. By day, Lucius was the victorious gladiator, and you, his spoil of war. They were roles neither of you had chosen, but ones you took on to survive. The night became your refuge, a time where the weight of your reality could be put aside, if only for a while. Curled around one another on the thin cot the ghosts of your past weren’t silenced but shared through whispered admissions. You could speak of the people you had once been – before Rome twisted you both into something unrecognizable.
Trust came with time. And now, as you approach the alcove where he waits, you can feel some of the tension leave your body. You are safe with Lucius, a thought that would have been absurd to you just months ago. 
You shift the small wooden tray — laden with fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of strong wine — to your other hip. The soft scrape of your sandals against the stone floor alerts Lucius to your presence. His dark gaze lifts from the water, meeting yours with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to expect. Even in the haze of sweat and steam, his presence is impossible to ignore. 
Where others would let their gaze wander lower, drifting toward the rest of his bare form submerged beneath the water, you always look at his face. It‘s there that you find what you seek: the sharp edges of your own pain and anger mirrored in his dark eyes. It’s a reflection of the hurt you carry, of all that Rome took from you both. 
“You fought well today,” you say, settling beside the pool, the water lapping at the stone. 
The words come easily, practiced—part of the familiar routine you’ve both come to rely on. Though the bath is quiet and you seem to be alone, you know better. You’ve learned the hard way that the walls have ears. Every word, every glance, carries weight here, and even in the relative solitude of this alcove, your interactions could be reported back to Macrinus. Only when you’re hidden away in the cell you share each night can you let the pretense fall away. 
Lucius hums in response as he lets his head fall back against the cool stone. His muscled arm rests on the edge of the pool and you offer him a brief, gentle touch before withdrawing. The tension in his frame eases a fraction and his eyes flutter closed, but the sharpness of his presence doesn’t fade. He’s aware of every shift in the air, every sound around him. Even in the quiet comfort of this place, Lucius is never truly off guard. 
You pick up a ripe fig, its skin velvety and fragrant, and drag it slowly through the warmed honey. Gently, you bring it to his lips, offering it with a quiet gesture. Lucius sighs—softly, almost imperceptibly—and then his lips part, taking the fruit from your fingers. As he bites into it, you feel the heat of his tongue brush against your skin. You try to ignore the traitorous feeling that springs to life in your belly. That feeling has become a frequent companion, one you never asked for, and one that sits uneasily beside the grief you still carry for your late husband.
“You must eat too,” Lucius commands. “You will need your strength for later.”
His rough words carry no real threat, but you react like they do, tucking your chin to your chest in a subtle gesture of submission. At times, it feels like a performance—like you're both actors on a stage, with an unseen audience watching every move. You eat in silence until the tray is bare and the goblet empty. When he rises from the pool, water cascading from his sun-kissed skin, you reach for the fresh robe laid carefully over the stone bench. 
“Do you wish…” you begin, lifting your eyes to Lucius, only to falter at his expression. His eyes flicker briefly past you, and then, just as swiftly, return. He gives no warning before he pulls you forward and drags you into the water. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by the splash your bodies make as ripples spread outward. The wet robes cling to you like a heavy second skin and you sink deeper into the water.
“I’ll have you here,” Lucius announces loudly. He grasps your biceps and easily forces you to straddle him. Your face shields his from the outside world. His expression softens and even as his lips part to speak, you shake your head, stopping him before the words can leave his mouth.
You understand, without needing to hear it. The two of you are no longer alone.
He leans back, arms stretched along the edge of the bath. “Ride me,” he commands. 
You struggle out of the heavy outer robe and your knuckles unwittingly brush over his abdomen. Lucius tenses beneath you. You offer him a quiet apology before withdrawing and rising to your knees. Your hips shift forward in a facsimile of his request, meeting nothing but a swell of water as you keep a careful distance from his body. He groans and you answer him with a quiet moan of your own. You rise up and down almost mechanically, staring at the chipped stone above his head. His hot breath fans over your neck, the heat of it lingering on your skin. You shudder as a warmth that has nothing to do with the pool gathers under your skin, shame twisting your insides. 
Lucius grabs your waist urging you to move faster, and the sounds of his pleasure rise in intensity. The muscles of your thighs protest, burning with effort as you hold the distance between your bodies. The air around you shifts and the murmur of conversation in the other pools begins to fade as the gladiators are drawn in, listening to your performance. The silence grows almost suffocating, but you force yourself to push through the charade. This is just one of many indignities you’ve endured since Rome descended onto the sleepy fishing village you called home. It pales to what could await you if it were gifted to a different gladiator. 
“Fuck,” Lucius growls loudly, abruptly stilling your movement to feign his pleasure. 
After a beat you gather the courage to look over your shoulder, meeting Viggo’s stare. You tense. Calloused fingertips brush lightly over your jaw, drawing your attention back to Lucius. You stare down at him, taking in the light flush of his dusky cheeks and the steady rise and fall of his chest. His touch lingers for a moment more before his hand disappears beneath the water. 
“Use my robe to cover yourself,” he instructs roughly. 
It’s then that you realize how transparent your dress has become in the water. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you slide away, only to freeze when your thigh brushes over an unexpected hardness. Your eyes jump to his and Lucius’s throat bobs, the usual intensity of his features faltering for a brief moment.
"I will fetch more wine," you stammer after a pause, your gaze flicking nervously to Viggo still lingering at the edge of the bath, all too aware that Lucius cannot leave in this state. 
Wrapping your arms around your chest, you rise from the pool. The cool air instantly prickles your damp skin. You reach for a robe nearby and pull it around you quickly, grateful for its modesty. Viggo shoots you a brief, assessing glance, but it’s Lucius who commands his attention next.
"Come to admire what isn't yours?" Lucius taunts.
He leans back casually, as though completely unfazed by the situation. It’s effortless the way he slips into his confident, unshakable mask while you hurry away, eager to break the silence and escape the strange weight of the moment.
The clang and clash of metal from the arena become a distant hum, fading into the background as you clean the wounds on Lucius's body. Ravi is occupied, tending to the more seriously injured men, so it falls to you to care for your gladiator. You kneel between his thighs and the coarse sand scrapes against the soft skin of your knees. The heat of the day clings to you both, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood. But beneath it all, there's a scent you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his — a mix of earth and salt that’s oddly comforting. 
You gently press a cloth to one of the deeper gashes, cleaning away the blood before you begin stitching the wound. Lucius hisses as you draw the needle through his parted skin, and you glance up at him in concern, but his eyes are closed, his breath steady despite the discomfort. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. You smear the thick, fragrant paste Ravi left over the wound once you’re done. 
“You’re getting better at this,” Lucius observes.
“Flesh is not so different from cloth,” you reply.
“A far cry from mending fishing nets,” he says, and for a moment, your eyes meet and you share a small, pained smile.
“And you are a long way from a farm, gladiator,” you acknowledge, shaking your head. 
You help him stand, your hands steady as you support his weight, but you pause when you spot Viggo standing in the doorway. Lately, he seems to haunt your every step, his presence a constant shadow. On instinct you shift a little closer to Lucius, your body seeking the reassurance of his proximity just as he draws you near. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed. A small, knowing smile tugs at Viggo’s lips. It’s a look that sends a trickle of unease down your spine.
“Macrinus is entertaining some important guests tomorrow evening, and you are required to attend,” he announces looking at Lucius. “They wish to see a real gladiator up close, to witness your strength and skill firsthand.”
Then, to your surprise, Viggo turns his gaze toward you. “Your presence is also required,” he adds. Although his tone is casual there's an edge to it that makes your stomach tighten.
Lucius doesn’t speak, but his fingers flex against your hip as he considers the other man’s command. You both know there’s little room for refusal when it comes to Macrinus.
“I understand-” you say at the same time Lucius’s voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.
“She is not needed. I alone will attend.” 
His gaze never leaves Viggo, and you can see the challenge in his eyes. It’s an attempt to shield you, one you appreciate but understand is futile. 
Viggo’s smile remains unchanged. “Macrinus insists.”
The matter is settled and you bow your head, waiting for the other man to leave. Once he is gone you look to Lucius, voice tinged with concern. 
“You should not challenge him.”
Lucius steps away, anger rolling off him in waves. “And you should not submit so easily.”
You touch your throat, then turn away to busy yourself with the bloody scraps of cloth and scattered supplies. There’s no point in arguing. You know the truth: that sometimes submission is the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Macrinus. As you work the silence between you stretches on, thick and charged before Lucius steps toward you. 
He sighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. A moment later, his hand rests on your shoulder. The calloused pads of his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending a fleeting sense of unexpected longing through you as they briefly sweep over your skin.
“I….” His voice trails off and you close your eyes.
“I know,” you say quietly. 
So much of what transpires between you seems left unsaid. You reach back, your hand finding his briefly as the two of you share a quiet moment before he must return to the arena. 
The bangles on your wrist are heavy and ornate, far too extravagant for a slave. They feel less like adornments and more like shackles. Beside you, Lucius looks equally as uncomfortable in his fine clothes. They’ve trimmed his beard and his tunic—lined with gold thread—glimmers in the dim light. From across the room, Macrinus raises his goblet to the two of you. All around you his guests mingle, sharing hushed conversation and knowing smirks that deepen your discomfort. 
The servants, once familiar to you from your time as a slave working in Macrinus's kitchen, all avoid your gaze. You spent years alongside them before you were plucked from that world and thrust into Lucius's service. Their hesitation, the way they look past you, is more than simple discomfort, it’s a warning you don’t yet understand. Your fingers tremble where they rest on Lucius’s arm.
“Something is not right,” you whisper, fear rising in your throat.
Before Lucius can reply, the conversation around you falters, and the air grows still as Macrinus moves to the center of the room. Then, with a sharp clap of his hands, the noise dies completely. 
“Our entertainment is about to begin,” he announces, beckoning you forward.
As you approach, his eyes drift between you and Lucius. His smile widens, though it never quite reaches his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. You’ll both need your strength for the show,” he says. 
“I am to fight?” Lucius questions, his voice edged with suspicion.
“No, not today,” Macrinus replies. “My guests are eager for a performance of another kind.”
Your brow furrows and Lucius stares blankly at Macrinus until two servants, moving in unison, pull a table forward. It is laden with the remnants of the earlier feast — half-finished plates, empty goblets, and discarded silverware. They work to clear away the table until it is left bare. 
“It is no bed, but it’s finer than your cot,” Macrinus assures.  
Lucius jerks back as if struck, his body stiffening in shock while cold dread settles over your shoulder as you both understand Macrinus’s meaning. He watches the small exchange between the two of you with amusement.
“Or, if you prefer not to,” he offers, watching Lucius intently. His voice is smooth with mock consideration as he continues speaking. “I’m sure another gladiator would gladly take your place.”
“No,” Lucius snarls. Before he can move, you dig your nails into his forearm, trying desperately to hold him in place.
Macrinus leans in close, his next words meant only for the two of you. “I expect a good show. Not like that mummer's farce in the bath.”
Ugly surprise washes over you as the full reality of your situation sinks in. Beside you, Lucius shifts and you see the familiar spark in his eyes. It’s the look he gets before a fight when the fire that lives inside him is ready to explode and consume everything in its path. You’ve seen it a thousand times in the arena, and it always ends the same way: with blood. 
You almost wish you could let him fight, but you know better. You step closer to Lucius, your presence a quiet plea for him to stop. It takes a moment before he meets your gaze and when he does you see the pain beneath the rage, the knowledge that this moment is slipping beyond his control. 
There’s no glory in this—only survival. Yet that truth doesn’t make it any easier to watch the fire in his eyes fade as he steps back. It’s the kind of defeat that no arena or battle could ever impose on him. 
“My guests are eager for the show,” Macrinus says and gestures to the table. 
You straighten your shoulders, willing your body to follow the courage your mind struggles to summon. Lucius follows with heavy footsteps. You stop before the table, heart pounding, and take a slow, steadying breath to gather your resolve before you turn to face your gladiator. You know the role you’re meant to play, this moment is just another part of the spectacle your life has become.
Without a word, Lucius steps closer and his hands come to rest on your hips, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. When he moves between your legs, you can’t read his expression. Unexpectedly, one of his large hands cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours.
“Focus on me,” he urges. “It is just us here, no one else matters. Do not think of them. Do not think of anything but me.”
His words are a command and a reassurance all at once, grounding you in the moment even as your pulse quickens. 
When he speaks again, his voice is louder, carrying across the room. “Lay back.”
The table is hard and cold beneath you as you follow his instruction, the chill seeping through the thin silks you wear. Lucius pulls you forward until you’re at the very edge, your legs hanging loosely off the sides. Gently, your dress is peeled away until you’re bare to him. His broad frame blocks the crowd from seeing much but you still feel vulnerable and exposed. You curl your fingers into the palms of your hands, trying to remember Lucius’s words as you close your eyes.
The murmurs of the observers increase, and you feel them shift, edging closer. Then, a woman’s gasp cuts through the tension, followed by a wave of hushed surprise that ripples through the gathered Romans. When you open your eyes you can only see the top of Lucius’s head from where he kneels between your thighs. Guilty anticipation zips through you, followed by a spark of heat that flickers low in your stomach at the sudden realization of what he intends to do. 
“Barbaric,” a man utters, his voice thick with disdain.
“Now now,” Macrinus says with a slight chuckle. “Remember, our gladiator hails from Numidia. Their customs are not ours."
The first touch from Lucius is barely there, a whisper of contact against your inner thigh, but it grows firmer the higher his fingers climb. Instinctively, you hold your breath, waiting for him to reach the most sacred part of you. At the first touch of his mouth to you, the rest of the world fades away.
Lucius builds your pleasure with slow, steady strokes while his calloused hands knead your thighs. His touch is an anchor and spark all at once. There is little resistance when he curls a finger inside. A second joins the first a moment later and without thought, you thread your fingers into his curls. A long, shuddering moan leaves him, and the vibration tightens the coil in your belly. Lucius’s touch grows rougher and more demanding. He drinks from you like he’s starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive while his fingers work you open.
You come with a throaty cry, your hips leaving the table. Every nerve in your body is alight. You cannot help but hold Lucius against you until the mere brush of his nose against your center makes you quake again, sending waves of warmth through your veins. As much as you want him to stop, you’re desperate for him to continue and keep you in this moment where nothing but the two of you exist. 
Lucius pulls away and reality crashes in with starting clarity while the eyes of the crowd cut through you like a thousand sharp edges. Before it all overwhelms you, he climbs onto the table. He lowers himself onto his forearms and the weight of him presses against you.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.  
You open your mouth but the words you want to say seem to get caught, trapped somewhere between your chest and your lips. To your surprise, wetness gathers at the corner of your eyes. But even that feels like something you can't fully surrender to. You’re trapped in this strange, painful moment where nothing feels real and everything feels too real all at once. It’s all too much – his tenderness and the horror of the situation.
There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Lucius’s expression in response, but it’s enough to reveal something beneath the surface and allow you to see the guilt he bears. The lines around his eyes seem to deepen and the tension in his expression makes him look older, wearier, and more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. The desire to soothe him is enough to break the strange spell on you.
"All is well," you assure him, gently brushing your nose against his. “I am no maiden.”
“Fuck her already,” a voice shouts and Lucius pulls back, his handsome face twisting into a snarl. You feel the tension in his muscles, coiling like a spring, ready to snap—and a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest. 
You breathe his name, soft and pleading, and he stills, the clench of his jaw betraying the war within. “It is only us,” you remind him, repeating his own words back to him. 
He stares down at you, nostrils flaring and then suddenly he bows his head. You feel the fight leave him as he chooses restraint over the violence you both know he’s capable of.
"Only us," he replies, strained. 
You hold his gaze as you feel his knuckles brush against your inner thigh to line himself up. He pushes inside slowly and you lift your hips. Your body welcomes him with only the briefest flare of pain, eased by his earlier attention. 
“Oh,” you gasp.
Your eyes close as he fills you completely. The sensation is both comforting and alien all at once. You can’t help but think of your late husband, so different from Lucius in every way. You wonder fleetingly if the man above you is thinking of his lost love too. Does that unspoken grief weigh on him as heavily as it does on you?
Before your mind can wander further, Lucius begins to move and your thoughts fizzle out. He curls his powerful body over yours and keeps up a steady pace that makes your skin buzz. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and the smell of him surrounds you, familiar and comforting. As you move together each breath and shift of your body becomes a silent conversation between only the two of you. 
“Gods,” he groans into your ear. “You take me so well.”
His unexpected praise has you rocking into him, needy for more. The table creaks each time he thrusts back into you. His lips trail along your neck and you feel that familiar climb to ecstasy begin, like a delicate crescendo inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and his rhythm stutters. 
“Sweet girl,” Lucius sighs, pulling back just far enough to meet your gaze.
The tenderness in his eyes is unexpected. Since Macrinus gifted you to Lucius nearly six months ago, you’ve shared many looks; full of pain and grief, anger and understanding, but this is something new, fragile. You stroke his cheek and he surges forward, kissing you roughly.
His lips on yours are a revelation. A storm of emotion rolls through your chest, crystallizing into the realization that you want him. You long for him in a way that goes beyond the need for protection, or a desire for connection. You grasp his face in both hands, your fingers trembling against the hard line of his jaw, and return the kiss with urgency. It’s desperate, almost frantic, as though you’re trying to pull him closer, to merge with him in a way that makes the world outside of the two of you disappear. 
He responds with a sharp thrust, angled so perfectly that it sends a flash of heat up your spine. You taste yourself on him when his tongue delves into your mouth. He hardly lets you catch a breath as he pours himself into you over and over until another orgasm washes through you. It’s more intense than the last, bleeding into his own as he comes with a quiet moan. 
He gives a few more thrusts and stills, his lips hovering over yours as you share the same air. Your thumbs stroke the soft skin under his eyes and you hold his gaze. In the depths of it, you feel a thousand words rising in your chest, aching to spill out, but you are all too aware you’re not alone. 
Before you let the world back in you tilt your chin up, lips brushing over his in a slow, tender kiss that he returns with heartbreaking gentleness. When you finally pull apart, the applause from Macrinus makes you flinch, and Lucius’s expression clouds over.
“What a performance,” Macrinus exclaims.
A titter of applause follows from the audience as though they’ve witnessed something to be praised. Lucius pulls away and you wince as he slips from inside you. A trickle of his seed follows and cold air blankets your body. You curl in on yourself, feeling vulnerable and anxious. When Lucius moves to stand, he carefully pulls your dress to cover you. Then, he helps you upright, and draws you into his side, shielding you with his body. He lifts his chin and offers the crowd a sharp, almost vicious smirk that’s more a baring of teeth than a smile. 
“I thought you might fuck like you fight,” Macrinus says. He lays a hand on Lucius’s shoulder like they are old friends and leans close. “I’m pleased to see that I was wrong.”
There’s some other meaning in his words that you don’t catch but Lucius seems to understand. Anger flickers across his face, but beneath it, you see something more unsettling, something you’ve never seen before. Fear. 
“We will do a great many things together, I think,” Macrinus continues in a pleased tone, his gaze lingering on the hand Lucius settles possessively on your hip. “A great many things.”
This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes; cold, calculating, and full of something far more sinister.
You spend the rest of the party seated on Lucius’s lap, his arm banded around your waist while the other rests on your thigh. He’s tense and angry as you expect but his focus seems distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room. He rubs the fabric of your dress between his thumb and forefinger, the motion almost absentminded. The wine you sip is overly sweet and sits like a sour stone in your belly. Neither of you speak. Occasionally, some guests, perhaps emboldened by drink or bravery, approach, but Lucius quickly sends them on their way with nothing more than a look. 
Only once the party dies down are you dismissed by Viggo. On the journey back to your cell Lucius’s grip on you remains firm, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He doesn't speak, and you notice every so often, his free hand curls into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It’s not until the door closes behind you, locking you both inside the small, dimly lit space, that Lucius finally speaks. 
"You know my true name,” he begins pacing the length of the cell. “But there are things I have not told you."  
He speaks slowly, each word carefully measured, as though he’s weighing the cost of revealing what’s hidden. He tells you the truth of his origin, and with each sentence, you sink deeper into the thin cot you both share, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When he finally falls silent, you remain there, frozen. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, but none of them seem to form into anything coherent. 
"Does this mean-" you begin, words faltering as you try to process the magnitude of what he’s revealed to you. “Does this mean… you are the rightful emperor?”
“I am.” There’s no pride in his admission, only worry. He releases a harsh breath through his nose like he’s trying to clear something from his chest before he speaks again. “There is a plan in place, with my mother and Acacius, but he will not return from Persia for several weeks yet. We cannot wait for them.”
“What has changed?”
“Surely you must know,” he whispers, regarding you softly.  
You shake your head, a quick, instinctive denial, but a deeper part of you already understands. Or perhaps, hopes you do.  
“You," he says simply. 
It’s the way he says it, so certain and knowing, that makes your breath catch. You stare at him and your heart throbs in your chest, low and sweet like a song.
“I never thought I could want someone again,” he admits. His unexpected words summon the ghost of all you've both lost, and they rise between you like a shadow, lingering for a long painful moment. "I thought it would feel like..." His words trail off.
“A betrayal,” you finish for him, keenly aware of what he must feel. 
The vulnerable look on his face awakens something deep and real inside you that you never expected to feel again. You rise from the cot without thinking and move to stand before him.  
"It feels right," he continues, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "As easy as breathing." 
And then he kisses you, tentative at first, before he grasps your jaw, seeking more of you. The way he holds you, possessively, protectively, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters, like you're his lifeline in a world that’s about to crumble. It fills you with such longing that you chase his lips when they part from yours.
"Macrinus knows now. And he is planning something," Lucius says, his voice tight with urgency, "and whatever it is, it will be at odds with the good of Rome. He will use you to get to me. And I cannot lose you."
“What will you do?” You ask.
"I'll send word to my mother in the morning," he replies. "You and she must leave Rome. It’s the only way."
You shake your head, unwilling to part from him.
“I will come for you when it is safe,” he promises, capturing your lips in another kiss before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "But tonight… tonight, I need you again. Will you have me?” He questions.  
You answer him with your lips and he gathers you in his arms. The coarseness of his beard against your chin and the firm press of his lips to yours ignites a bone-deep need within. Suddenly all the danger, the uncertainty, and the inevitability of what’s to come fades into the background. It's just the two of you, the heat of his touch, the depth of his kiss, and the unspoken promise in his embrace. 
When he pulls you down on the cot, urging you on top of him, you let his momentum carry you. 
“Ride me,” he pleads desperately, framing your hips with his hands. 
He gazes up at you with such a mix of desperation and love that you couldn’t deny him, even if you wanted to. The shudder he gives when you take him in hand emboldens you to stroke his length. He groans and pushes his head back, exposing his thickly corded neck. You rise up and sink down on him slowly, savoring each inch. It’s near perfect how he fills you, and even though you’re still sore from earlier, the blend of pain and pleasure thrills you too much to stop. 
“Your dress,” he pants, “remove it. Please. I want to see you. All of you.”
You pull the fabric from your body and shed the bangles on your wrist while Lucius removes his tunic. You’re familiar with every inch of his body from tending to his wounds and time in the bathhouse, but you gaze down at him now with renewed appreciation, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His eyes are filled with affection and desire as they roam your body. 
“You’re beautiful,” he praises. 
He cups your breasts and draws his thumbs across your nipples until they grow hard. The touch sends sparks of pleasure along your nerves and you twitch around him. He moans and rolls his hips. His arms encircle you, holding you close while he fucks you with strong, powerful thrusts. You bury your face in his neck and drag his skin between your teeth. He answers your action with a groan. 
“Gods, the way you feel. You’re perfect,” he praises. 
You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, moving your hips to take him deeper. You gasp his name and arch your back, rocking forward with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. For the first time in what feels like forever, you close your eyes and let yourself simply feel. There’s no need to shield yourself, no barriers to maintain.
“Look at me,” Lucius begs, grasping your waist to take control of your movements.
Your eyes flutter open and meet his, the beginning of your orgasm rising to the surface like a tide pushing its way to shore. It grows steadily until it finally crashes over you, flooding your senses and leaving you breathless in its wake. Lucius finds his own end moments after with a low, shuddering gasp. It takes several moments for your breathing to return to normal and when it does Lucius sweeps his hands up your sides comfortingly.
"Stay with me like this,” he asks. 
You acquiesce and he gently guides you to rest your cheek against his chest. His hand slides to the middle of your back, his palm warm and steady as he holds you close. Even though he remains inside you still your body relaxes, pooling in his. You close your eyes and listen to the steady drum of his heart, feeling a profound sense of stillness. 
You’ve always felt safe in Lucius’s arms, but now, you feel loved in a way you never dreamed you’d experience again. It’s a kind of peace that settles into you, filling all the broken, hollow spaces in your heart where your grief and pain have lingered for so long.
Whatever comes next, his love and strength are something you can hold onto. And for now, that is all you need. 
Also part of this series:
Ab Initio
Finis
Protego te
My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife.
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sttoru · 8 months ago
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Can we have mamaguro and toji go to megumis school sports day event where the kids parents go against each other. Mamaguro wins amongst that games thats for mama's. And well toji yk guys 🙏🏼🤲🙏🏼
 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff, one mention of angsty-ish thing. suggestive comment. reader gets called ‘mama / ma, pretty’
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“woah, mama’s so fast!” megumi points at you with his tiny finger, watching as you participate in a 400 metres relay race. toji stands right beside the preschooler, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you go.
to say you’re competitive is an understatement. both toji and you have done your best to win all events the parents could participate in during your kid’s sports event. it may not be that serious to the other parents, though for you two, it is.
seeing megumi’s face light up and hearing his giggles whenever toji or you win a competition is all the reward needed for your hard work.
“oh yeah, y’r mama is gonna get that win,” your husband nods proudly. he crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes following your figure as you speed across the other mothers that are participating. toji’s attention is caught by a little hand tugging at his sweatpants.
he raises an eyebrow as he sees the way megumi’s reaching his arms out to him. “hah, little brat. c’mere,” toji lets out a chuckle before scooping megumi up, placing the clingy preschooler on his shoulders.
your gaze is set right ahead, body moving as quick as it could. your ears pick up on two familiar voices, your eyes catching a glimpse of toji and megumi at the sidelines. you smile at the two while you run. you don’t have to look back to keep track of where your opponents are. you’re too fast for them anyway.
“yeahhh, tha’s my fuckin’ wife!” toji yells above everyone else, embarrassing you a little. though, it sure did boost your energy levels and your legs move in an even faster tempo. the other parents look at toji with a frown, some whisper about his vulgar choice of words around little children, but he simply couldn’t care less.
megumi tries to imitate his dad and throws his hands in the air, waving at you with a big smile. “that’s my mama!” the little child shouts at the top of his lungs, having the time of his life. he’s been having fun all day with toji and you, his popularity under his classmates increasing because of the outstanding performances of his parents.
you laugh to yourself as you hear their encouragements. you glance over at them as they stand near the finish line, just waiting for you to pass over it. you wave at them whilst you’re running and watch as megumi happily waves back with both arms.
“mamaaaaa!” the small boy squeals, kicking his legs. he looks at you with big, sparkling eyes—cheering once you cross over the finish line. toji joins in and whistles, impressed by your performance. he walks over to you as you catch your breath.
“how’d i do?” you ask your husband with a smirk. toji nods, humming in satisfaction. he feels megumi squirm around on his shoulders, so he lets the preschooler down. toji faces you again and pinches your cheek in a loving yet teasing gesture, “amazing, ma. y’ did well.”
megumi runs up to you once he’s free and hugs your leg. you giggle and crouch down to hug him. “mama’s so fast. and so cool,” your son exclaims and mimics how you ran, making noises to indicate how fast you were going, “like—woosh, woosh!”
“haha, thank you,” you giggle and kiss megumi’s forehead. a teacher comes up to you and gives you your gold medal for winning first place, a big number one on the middle of the metal. you put the medal around megumi’s neck instead, clearly seeing his eyes light up once you do.
toji follows the gesture and puts all the medals he’s won around his son’s neck as well. those were quite a few since toji’s competitve and athletic self had won every round of the parent matches he’s participated on. out of all the dads present, he’s won most games.
“there y’ go,” toji comments in a proud tone. megumi laughs happily and jumps up and down in place to show his excitement. he sees a couple of his friends nearby and scurries over to them, going to brag about how he’s got the best parents.
your husband hands you a bottle while he keeps an eye on megumi. “thank you,” you nod and take a couple sips of the refreshing cold water. you catch toji glancing at you, looking you up and down. that’s when you already know that whatever’s going to come from his mouth, is going to be out of pocket.
“y��know, while ya ran out there, i couldn’t help but stare at that fat ass of—“
you smack toji’s chest, a warning for him to not finish that sentence. you’re too embarrassed by his words to even look at him properly. “don’t say such stuff in front of literal children,” you whisper shout with a flustered expression on your face.
toji playfully rolls his eyes at your comment. he wanted to give your behind a smack - an appreciative ‘well done’ gesture - but he refrains from doing so. he wraps an arm around your waist instead and squeezes your side.
“ugh maaann, who cares about these little brats,” toji complains and leans his head down to your level, kissing your temples gently. he smirks and gives your lips a quick kiss, “i just wanna appreciate my sexy wife.”
you can’t help but crack a faint smile after toji’s last comment. you kiss him back quickly, keeping an eye out on your son, who’s cluelessly showing his classmates all the medals around his neck.
“we made the kid quite popular,” toji hums as he sees the same thing you have. it warms his heart to see his son enjoy his childhood like this. so carefree, so loved. megumi’s got both of you, both loving parents, which brings the dark-haired man a sense of peace.
toji’s glad that he can give his son everything he couldn’t have as a child. that also means participating in megumi’s school events and the like of it. he’s never had anyone supporting him as a kid and he never wants the same to happen to your child.
“yeah, he deserves it,” you say with a fond smile. as long as megumi’s protected and loved, the rest is fine. you’re glad that he’s taking the opportunity to interact with his classmates, considering he’s usually a bit shy and quiet.
while you’re watching megumi, toji’s staring at you. there’s a subtle smile tugging at his lips because of your own content expression. he looks back at his kid and sighs in relief.
all that hard work was worth it if it meant to have both his wife and son enjoy themselves.
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zorobff · 1 year ago
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how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)
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synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.
warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left
word count: 4.7k
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“this guy is full of shit.”
you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 
zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 
“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 
“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”
you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 
the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 
“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 
you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”
“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 
you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 
zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”
“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 
at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 
“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  
zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”
“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 
zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.
“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 
you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”
before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 
“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 
you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 
“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 
he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  
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“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 
“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 
“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”
“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.
“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”
zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”
you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 
“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.
“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.
“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 
you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 
going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 
“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.
usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”
zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”
“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 
abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”
the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 
the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”
“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”
“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”
before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 
“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 
“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 
the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 
“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 
“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 
your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”
“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 
kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 
klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”
“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 
giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 
luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 
“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”
she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 
“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 
“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 
his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.
the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.
“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”
he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”
his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 
“hey, you comin’?”
you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 
“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 
zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.
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“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”
“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 
“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.
nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 
“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 
“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 
you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.
nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 
you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”
“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.
nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.
“way to keep me humble, luffy.”
“no problem!” 
at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 
“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.
he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  
“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 
“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 
his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 
“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 
as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 
“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 
“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”
you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.
the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 
“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 
he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”
you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”
zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”
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by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 
luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 
“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.
“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 
“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 
dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”
“very on brand.”
“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”
arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 
once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.
“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.
you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.
looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 
kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 
“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 
“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 
while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 
“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”
you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.
kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 
he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 
you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 
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“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 
“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.
“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 
you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”
zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 
his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 
before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 
luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 
“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 
“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 
“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 
“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”
you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 
“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.
you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.
“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 
“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.
“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.
all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 
“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.
“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.
a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.
turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”
“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.
kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”
the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”
you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”
zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”
you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 
“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.
he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 
you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”
he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.
“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”
kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”
“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”
“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 
the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 
he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”
you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”
he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”
“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 
“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”
you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”
“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”
you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”
you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”
the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 
“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.
that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.
kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.
zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 
sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.
“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.
he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”
you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”
“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”
his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”
the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 
you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.
“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”
“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”
he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”
you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”
that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 
though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.
“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.
zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”
“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.
“only for pretty things.”
“do you mean me or the dress?” 
now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 
a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.
“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  
he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 
when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 
“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.
you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”
you both know that means yes.
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malavera · 6 months ago
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Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett
summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day
warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting
wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)
creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!
dedicating this one to my favorite authors!
@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush
peaches masterlist
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The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.
The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.
You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.
“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.
There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”
You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?
Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.
You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.
Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.
And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.
Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.
You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.
“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”
You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.
“Yeah, sure, Peach.”
And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.
As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.
“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”
Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.
“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.
“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.
You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.
“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.
Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.
Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.
You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.
You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.
Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.
For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.
You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.
Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.
"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”
“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.
“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.
“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.
Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.
Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”
Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.
“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.
You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.
Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.
You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.
From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.
As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.
With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.
Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.
You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.
“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”
Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.
“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.
You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.
Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 
“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.
“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.
“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.
“I-”
“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,
“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.
“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.
"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.
"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.
Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.
You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.
A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.
"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.
"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.
"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.
"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.
"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.
"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.
"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.
"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.
"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."
"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.
Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."
As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.
"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.
He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.
"Hmm, taste just like a peach."
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let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉
3K notes · View notes
izadi234 · 4 months ago
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Forget me not
-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader
Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You're here) Chapter 4 Chapter 5
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Chapter 3
For Duke it was a normal day after going to a classmate's house to finish a group project. He was eager to show you the project and talk to you about his day as he had started to do since the first day he set foot in Wayne Manor.
He could never forget that day...
The first time Duke went to Wayne Manor he was a bundle of nerves along with other emotions. He had just lost his parents due to the Joker's toxin and had just started his training with Bruce. He couldn't deny that he wasn't grateful to the billionaire and his family of vigilantes but he did miss that normality in his day to day life like when his parents were still well.
It was a day that he was lost in the mansion that was the one that found you. He had just finished his training with Bruce and Damian and had the intention of returning to his room when he got lost, but it wasn't until he ran into someone that he finally paid attention to where he was walking.
You were walking down the hall with your laptop in your hands, it seemed like you had just come from outside. He had never seen you before but Damian had mentioned that he had an older sibling that he didn't give much importance to.
"Oops, sorry. You okay, kiddo?" you asked him kindly
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I should apologize. I didn't see where I was going" the young man apologized
"I see you're lost, these hallways of the mansion aren't that frequented" you commented
"Really? And what are you doing here then?"
"My room is over here" you commented
"Ah..." He didn't know what to say
"You must be the new kid that Bruce adopted, right?"
"Yes, it's me" he nodded
"It's a pleasure, I'm (Name)" you extended your hand to shake it and he took it
He could immediately notice the warmth of your hand, they weren't rough and hard like the hands of others, but he could feel familiarity in your grip. It felt like home.
"Duke" he nodded as he shook your hand
"Well Duke, if you want I can guide you through these halls. It's almost impossible not to get lost in this place" you chuckled
"Yeah... I'd like that" he said with a smile
"Well, then follow me!" you said with a smile as you then guided him through the Manor
From that meeting on, Duke looked for any excuse to go talk to you. He soon discovered that the family didn't show much interest in you, which he couldn't understand why. In a family of vigilantes, being the most normal should be a relief, right? Or at least that's how he saw it, since when he was with you, he felt like he was going back to his old life, without worries or training.
That's why from then on he always waited for the time to be able to go find you.
What a surprise he would get when he saw that you weren't there
Once he entered Wayne Manor, Duke immediately went to look for you in your room only to find it empty. He felt his heart stop for a second.
No... It can't be...
"Alfred!" Duke shouted in search of the butler as he ran to the kitchen and there he saw Alfred who was making food for the Waynes.
"Alfred! Have you seen (Name)? Her room is empty!" the boy spoke quickly
"Yes, I am sorry to have to tell you this Master Duke, but our dear (Name) has left the mansion" informed the butler
"What?! So fast? N-no… They couldn't leave here… Much less without saying goodbye…" he said incredulously
It was like losing his parents all over again.
"They left me a letter in my room. I suppose they left one in yours too Master Duke"
Without saying another word, Duke ran to his room where he found a letter on his bed that had his name on it. He read it and right there (Name) said goodbye to him, thanked him for his company and just like with Alfred, left him the cell phone number of his second phone in case he wanted to talk to them.
"No… It can't be…" said Duke as he let a few tears escape from his eyes
How could he not stop them?
"Please don't cry Master Duke" said a voice from the door of his room. It was Alfred who looked at him with eyes that reflected sorrow and sadness but at the same time determination.
"I know that the departure of Master (Name) was something that hurt you and me" the butler began to speak
"But I assure you that they will return home"
"How Alfred? It was more than obvious that they wanted to leave here" he said between sadness and bitterness "But I don't understand, why did no one in this place pay attention to them? They are a Wayne too"
You were like a refreshing stream for him, you were like a glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.
Why did no one in this damn place notice?
"I couldn't answer that, Master Duke, but what we both know is that the behavior of the members of this family towards (Name) has been unfair and unjustified" Alfred walked towards the young guard and sat next to him
"I spent years waiting for someone else to see how amazing they were, but no one noticed, no one tried to get to know them" he unconsciously closed his hands into fists "And I can say that it was partly my fault, but you came along and finally someone realized what a great person we had in the family"
Alfred turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder which he gave a light squeeze.
"And for that same reason that they have such a powerful light, in a place like Gotham it is important to take care of them"
Duke looked at Alfred for a few seconds and then looked at the ground.
He is right. Their light is very bright. He can't let anyone turn it off.
"But… How are you going to do it Alfred? How are you going to get them back? Not even half of the people who live here remember who they are" said the young vigilante irritated
"Don't worry about that Master Duke, but you will have to help me with some things"
Don't worry (Name), you will return home.
Whether you want to or not.
But you will be by their side
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It's been 2 weeks since you left Wayne Manor and to be honest… You've never been happier in your life!
Sure, you'd always had a lot of independence but now this independence felt different, it felt more refreshing.
Likewise, college had also been an interesting change from a social and academic point of view since a few years ago you had studied online and life at university was a bit chaotic but you were starting to like it.
You rented your apartment to an old man who owned the building and who kindly let you pay your rent little by little. Inside it were a few pieces of furniture that were already there, however, you gave it some personal touches to feel more at home. But what couldn't be missing were photos of your parents (F/N) and (M/N), Alfred and Duke with you.
You couldn't complain, you were living a true dream.
But live it up and savor it while you can
Because soon you'll lose it all
You were in the kitchen of your apartment making dinner when your phone rang. You picked it up and answered without looking at who it was,
"Hello?" you said as you answered your phone
"Hey (Name)!" a familiar voice greeted you
"Oh, hey Duke!" you said enthusiastically "How have you been? How's school going?"
"Oh been good, lots of homework" he chuckled "I was calling you because I wanted to see you"
"Oh yeah, sure" you nodded "Do you need me for something specific?"
"No no. I just want to see you. I miss you being around the mansion" he admitted
"Aww, you're really sweet Duke but I'm sure you have plenty of company at Wayne Manor" now was your turn to chuckle
"Yeah, they're good company but you're my best confidant and sibling"
You're MY home…
"Okay Duke, if you want we can see each other tomorrow" you proposed
"Sure!" he excited
"Perfect" you giggled at his excitement "How about we meet at the park near downtown Gotham?"
"Okay" he nodded
"Fine, see you tomorrow bro!" you said goodbye to him
"See you tomorrow sibling" he said goodbye before hanging up the call
You smiled just thinking about seeing Duke tomorrow. You couldn't wait to do it.
This was your first mistake. Trusting him.
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"It's done Alfred" said Duke from the doorway of the living room
"They agreed to see me tomorrow"
"Okay Master Duke" Alfred nodded and then dusted the furniture again
"Now what?" asked the young man
"Now all that's left is to wait for me to arrive tomorrow and just follow my instructions" the butler commanded
"So… do you think all this is going to work? What if it doesn't?" he asked, half scared and half anxious
Alfred turned to look at the nervous boy and walked towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner.
"It's going to work" he assured him "Now go rest, tomorrow you're going to have a busy day"
Duke nodded, still a little unsure, but he didn't say anything else. Then he retired to his bedroom.
When he left Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. Everything was going as he had been planning and although he knew that this plan wasn't going to be to your liking in the least, he was also sure that this was the best for you.
Yes… This was the best thing for you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For you…
For y…
For y…
For them..
For them...
For them...
For him…
This was going to be the best thing for HIM
This was going to bring you home to HIM
His little ray of sunshine
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Helloooo. Here it goes the third chapter! I hope you like it and I swear that in the next one the rest of the family will appear, still I would love to heart what do you expect of this work! And even some ideas!
Also I added the people that told me to add them in tag list so if you want to be added please tell me and I will happily add you. And also if I missed someone please tell me as well because I'm a bit blind most of the times and despite being on tumblr for a while now I'm still getting used to using it ":v
So if you liked this chapter please leave a heart and I'll see you on the next one!
-Izadi
TAG LIST
@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1cky-093
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briefinquiries · 6 months ago
Text
Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy
Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"
Word count: 3.9k
Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention
A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)
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As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned. 
“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot. 
She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him. 
Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season. 
“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?” 
“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over. 
“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”
“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were. 
Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed. 
“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered. 
“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile. 
“Two rooms coming up,” you promised. 
They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.  
“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.   
“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.   
“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”
“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.  
“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–” 
Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly. 
“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?” 
Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”
“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”
Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”
“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back. 
The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”
“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open. 
She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”
“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds. 
“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head. 
“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners.. 
“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.  
“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”
“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”
“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”
After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 
“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”
“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”
“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”
“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”
Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back. 
You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.  
“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.  
You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”
You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”
“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”
“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”
By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison. 
“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said. 
“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered. 
“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”
“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.” 
You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna. 
“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled. 
“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”
Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–
“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp. 
Well fuck me, you thought. 
You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.
You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin. 
After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler. 
“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag. 
“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned. 
You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”
This fucking cowboy. 
“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him. 
“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”
“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation. 
There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”
“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”
“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”
He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”
You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him. 
You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor. 
“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”
Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.
You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.
Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.
… 
With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did. 
“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go. 
With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside. 
She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses. 
“C’mon!” you screamed. 
“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”
“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled. 
“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately. 
But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won. 
In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way. 
“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!” 
But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up. 
The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did. 
Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again. 
The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next? 
Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake. 
Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath. 
“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress. 
“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”
Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.   
You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.
The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds. 
“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed. 
You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.
Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything. 
You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin. 
“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”
What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble. 
Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.
Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry. 
“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”
Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart. 
You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.  
You tried. Really, you did.
Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–
“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort. 
Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could. 
Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest. 
Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.
“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night. 
He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not. 
“Was I screaming?” 
“I mean, a little bit–”
You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself. 
“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”
Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth. 
“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”
Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”
“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”
One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised. 
“What?” you asked. 
“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”
“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.” 
Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.  
“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly. 
“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.” 
Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”
Tyler’s face lit up in surprise. 
“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.” 
Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”
Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”
Tyler nodded. 
“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either. 
“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”
You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. 
“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”
Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you. 
“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you. 
It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it? 
“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.” 
Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”
Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.” 
“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”
Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”
“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed. 
Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later. 
“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”
He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it. 
“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased. 
“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked. 
“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.
2K notes · View notes
hurtblossom · 6 months ago
Text
When we grow old ln4
Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!reader
Summary: Interviewer asks you how you see your relationship in the future, and your answer leaves everyone speech less.
Warning: Fluff, people being disgustingly in love, bad english.
This is based of an interview i watched on tiktok, and on Kylie's and Travis's video on GQ
masterlist
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Lando and Y/N had been together for almost a year now. From the moment they met, it was as if the universe had aligned just for them. They spent nearly every moment they could together, whether at his apartment or hers. Y/N never missed a race, always there in the stands or watching anxiously from the paddock, her heart swelling with pride. She was his biggest supporter, not just on the track but in every aspect of his life.
For Y/N, Lando was everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner. She was convinced that he was her soulmate, the one she was meant to spend her life with. Nothing and no one could make her believe otherwise. Lando wasn’t shy about showing his love for her either. He spoke about her with a tenderness that made everyone around him smile. Whenever he had the chance to mention her, he did, his eyes lighting up with every word. He defended her fiercely whenever someone had something negative to say about her or their relationship. Y/N was deeply in love with him, and every day, she hoped that he felt the same way.
When Y/N received an invitation to join Lando for an interview, she was genuinely surprised. She wasn’t accustomed to the spotlight; her world had always been more private. Although she had social media, most of her followers were there because of Lando.
And so, she found herself seated in a chair across from him, a gentle hum of anticipation in the air. Someone adjusted the mic on her shirt, making sure her voice would be captured clearly. As she sat there, waiting for the cameras to start rolling, she stole a glance at Lando. He looked at her with that familiar warmth, the kind that made her feel like she was the only person in the room.
"Hey everyone, I’m Lando, and this is my girlfriend Y/N. We’re here with GQ, ready to answer some questions about our relationship," Lando began, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.
“So, first question: how did we meet?” Y/N read aloud from a card she had been given before the interview. She looked at Lando, a playful glint in her eye. “Do you want to answer that?”
“Yeah.” Lando smiled softly at her, his gaze full of affection. “For those who don’t know, Y/N here is McLaren’s official Social Media Manager. She started working with the team about a year and a half ago, and yeah, I met her during her very first meeting with us, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“That’s correct, Mister Norris,” Y/N said, her tone light but filled with pride. Lando raised his hand for a high five, and she gladly met it.
“Okay, my turn. What was our first date, and what was our last? And which one did you enjoy the most?” he asked, tossing the flashcard behind him with a playful grin.
“Our first date was when you took me out to an Italian restaurant. You dressed all fancy,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “And the last one was two days ago; we went to your yacht and just sat there, watching the sunset.” Her voice softened, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can’t pick which one I preferred; honestly, every moment with you feels like a blessing.”
Lando’s smile grew tender. “That’s really sweet, baby.”
“Okay, next question!” Y/N announced with a playful energy that made Lando chuckle. “What are three things you love and hate about each other?”
“Well, that one’s easy,” Lando replied instantly. “I love your smile, your eyes, and your laugh. They light up my world. As for the three things I hate… I’d have to say your impatience, how easily you get mad, and the fact that you hold grudges.��
“That was quick,” Y/N said, raising an amused eyebrow. “I guess it’s my turn. So, I love your determination—how you never give up on what you do, even when it seems impossible. I love that you have a big heart and wear it on your sleeve. And your eyes… you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, and I could get lost in them forever. Now, for the things I hate: you tend to take things too personally, you can be just a tad too flirty, and… your sense of humor.”
“My sense of humor? What’s wrong with it?” he asked, feigning shock.
“You’re just not that funny, baby,” Y/N teased, shrugging playfully, her eyes twinkling with affection.
Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on my jokes.”
Y/N picked up the next flashcard. “Here’s a good one: What’s something surprising you’ve learned about me since we started dating?”
Lando paused for a moment, thinking. “Honestly, I think the most surprising thing I’ve learned is just how incredibly strong you are. I mean, I always knew you were tough, but seeing how you handle everything—whether it’s work stress, being in the public eye, or supporting me through all the ups and downs—has been amazing. You never let anything break you, and that’s something I admire so much.”
Y/N felt her heart swell with emotion. “Thank you, Lando. That means a lot coming from you.”
She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady as she read the next question. “What’s your favorite memory of us together?”
“That’s a tough one,” Lando said, smiling as he reminisced. “But I think it would have to be that weekend we spent in the countryside, just the two of us. No cameras, no phones, no distractions—just us. We went hiking, had a picnic by the lake, and at night, we watched the stars. It was simple, but it was perfect. It was one of those moments where I just felt… complete.”
Y/N nodded, her eyes misty with tears. “I remember that weekend. It was beautiful.”
Lando reached out, taking her hand in his. “We should do that more often—just escape from everything and be together.”
“Definitely,” Y/N agreed, squeezing his hand. “Okay, here’s the next question: What’s something you wish we could do together in the future?”
Lando thought for a moment before answering. “I’d love for us to travel more, see the world together. There are so many places I want to explore with you, and I think it would be amazing to share those experiences. But more than that, I just want us to keep building a life together, no matter where we go.”
Y/N smiled softly. “That sounds perfect.”
“Alright, last question,” Lando said, his tone growing more serious. “And this one’s just for you, Y/N: how do you see this relationship evolving?”
Y/N took a deep breath, her heart beating a little faster as she thought about the future. “Oh, that’s a hard one. How do I see this relationship evolving? Well, first of all, I’d like for us to stay together, to grow old… without sounding like a complete psycho,” she began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion.
“You’re fine; go on,” he encouraged her, his eyes never leaving hers, filled with a deep, unwavering love.
“If one day we end up on different paths—and I really hope that never happens, because seriously, you’re everything to me—I know I won’t want anyone else,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “But if life does pull us apart, I don’t want us to hate each other or lose all the good memories we made. I want you to remember me with a smile, and I’ll always wish you the best, because I’d never want anything bad for you. You’re my first real love, Lando, and what we have is something I know I’ll never feel with anyone else.”
She paused for a moment, her heart racing as she took a deep breath. “So, with that said,” she added with a little laugh, “let’s just agree to never break up, okay? Because honestly, that would be super awkward and totally heartbreaking for both of us.”
Her words hung in the air, filled with the raw, honest emotion of young love, and Lando couldn’t help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood, even though he knew how deeply she meant every word.
He was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. He looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with love and something deeper—determination.
“GQ, I think we’re done here,” Lando finally said, his voice steady but with a clear edge of emotion. “Because what I have to say now, I want her to know it’s real.”
He turned to Y/N, taking her hands in his as if grounding himself in the moment. “You’ve always been the one for me, Y/N. From the very beginning, I knew there was something about you that I couldn’t let go of, and that hasn’t changed. Hearing you talk about different paths… it scares me, because I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.”
He paused, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just in love with you; I’m committed to us. I’m committed to making sure that we keep growing together, facing whatever life throws our way. I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll always fight for us.”
Lando’s voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re my first love, Y/N, and I want you to be my last. I want to share every moment, every milestone, and every challenge with you. I want us to look back one day, gray and wrinkled, and say, ‘We did this together.’ Because you’re it for me. You always have been, and you always will be.”
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting the moment linger. When he pulled back, there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a promise unspoken but deeply felt.
“So let’s stop worrying about different paths,” he whispered, “and focus on the one we’re on, together. Because I’m not letting go, not now, not ever.”
the end
plot twist : he cheated, so they broke up... men 🍵 (jk😞)
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