#why we gotta wait a year though?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #my writing #I’m not sorry for this #this was super self indulgent 😂#enjoy the new goofy Luci face!#a goofy face is my calling card lol #I was writing a lot of this in a public area I hope y’all appreciate the risks I take lmao

4K notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

Note

One thing I always wonder in Neglected! Reader scenarios that I haven’t seen anyone explore is Married/Single Mom! Reader. It’s drama and angst potential.

Like Reader having a boyfriend and getting pregnant while still living in the Wayne manor, and everyone just takes a little too long to figure out. Maybe they do find out early with the morning sickness and whatnot but the thought of Bruce looking at Reader like 6 months pregnant and being like “Wait a minute… 🤨” and Reader wasn’t even trying to hide it that much.

And same scenario except Reader moved out either while pregnant or got pregnant after, Batfam forgets all about them and when fate does bring them together (like the Bruce/Selina wedding concept) she is literally about to pop or has a whole baby with her. Cue Bruce (and later everyone else) losing his shit because omg??? 😧 that’s his first grandchild and he had no idea!!

… And then if the Reader is married in this scenario, makes it all the more complicated (she didn’t invite anyone to her wedding? what do you mean Alfred attended when we had no idea?). Everyone is straight up hostile towards her spouse (Damian, Bruce and Jason are insufferable) and safe to say he won’t be around for long. Single mom Reader though, the amount of emotional manipulation about kids needing a family and father figures and you should move back in so everyone can help with the baby… Yeah.

Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x SugarBaby!Reader x Older!Husband

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N:OOOOO, I have something I was working on that I was having fun with that you might like!

A/N:Neglected!Reader with Older!Husband. (It's husband because it's based of that meme Your daughter calls me daddy, too. And, Reader is Female, because we're making a baby in here.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You, sweet thing, do the typical thing and run off from home, once you turn the legal age. Checking in with Alfred on occasion, but just living your best life. Only, in typical fashion, all those years of neglect lead to severe daddy issues. And, a minor itty bitty attraction to older men.

You get lucky though because you manage to find a fine one that loves to spoil his baby girl with vacations and spa days. All the best for his baby. He loves taking you places and showing you a good time. So, it's no wonder he plans a Babymoon for you when you're expecting your first child. Anything for you.

Unfortunately, Daddy gets called into work right before the vacation. And, despite you insisting you stay, he makes you go and promises to join you as soon as possible.

(No, the man isn't cheating. He just gotta make the money for his baby.)

You have a good time, pregnant on the beach. Getting massages and spa treatments. Video calling your husband every time the baby kicks and flutters.

Unfortunetly, even though you haven't used the Wayne name since you've been married, some drug lords recognize you and decide to ransom you. Dragging you back to Gotham in your little sundress the just so hides your baby bump.

Gotham media runs with the story. Lost Wayne heiress held hostage. No one is ignoring that.

The bat's pull off a daring rescue, but you being stubborn, try to escape on your own. Fearing for your baby's life if they just happen to chose not to come. They never came when you were little, why would they come now.

You happen to injure yourself while escaping. But, manage to make it to an on scene ambulance while the Bats take care of the thugs. You happen to faint on the way to the hospital, leaving the doctor's discover you pregnancy.

Already the media is surrounding the hospital for the most drama filled story of the year. Thankfully, the paramedics have some compassion in hide the bump when rolling you into the ER.

With the media's attention, your husband flies into Gotham and makes it to the hospital just in time to ask the nurse where you are in front of Bruce.

Bruce, of course, bristles when a man his age burst in the hospital demanding to see you, but is using the wrong last name. The nurse saying only family can see you.

"That's my daughter," Bruce will say. Assuming this man is trying to claim you as his. But, he already did.

Making Bruce, the family, the nurses, the patients, and the reporter who managed to sneak in freeze when he says, "That's my wife."

Imagine the doctor that just finished checking on you and your baby walking in right after announcing that you were both okay. The look on Bruce's face when he realizes that this man, his age, not only married you, but had the audacity to put a baby in you.

Even better, the smug way your husband looks at Bruce when he brushes past him to follow the nurse to your room because husband beats father and you demanded to see him.

The drama that follows is going to be legendary.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I had this idea jotted down and fluffed it up just for this. I'm not sure you wanna know who I had in mind for Reader's husband. (Dude is from another franchise.) But, the thought of him interacting with Bruce as the guy who married Bruce's daughter and knocked her up, delights me in such a visceral way.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #anon ask #answered asks #sugar baby!reader

2K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

#danny phantom #bamf danny phantom #dick grayson #tim drake is a menace #tim drake #baby tim drake #Tim Drake is a little shit #Danny Phantom is a little shit #they’re messing with the bats #and getting away with it #inspired by dick’s iconic Robin cackle #that creepy lil shit #i love them your honor #they’re brothers your honor #Gotham’s F grade tap water #thanks scarecrow #Gotham’s tap water #dc x dp #dp x dc

4K notes · View notes

actiniumwrites · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc

notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here

“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.

His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.

Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”

“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.

Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”

Damn him.

You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.

“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.

“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”

You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.

No, you idiot. It’s you.

You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”

“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”

Damn it, he got you again!

You don’t answer him.

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”

He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”

You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”

He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”

“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”

Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”

You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”

“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.

You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”

“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.

“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.

A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”

No way. Did he figure it out?

Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.

His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.

He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”

He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”

“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”

A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”

You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”

His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”

“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”

“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”

He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.

“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.

You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.

The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”

Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”

Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”

He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n

7K notes · View notes

bee-wg · 6 months ago

Text

Year 1:

“I’m telling you, man. You just need to drink the protein shakes Dad and I have. Don’t worry about the taste, they’re banana chocolate flavoured. It’s actually quite delicious when you get used to the texture. Then you’ll just need to go to the gyms a few times a week to get these bad boys.” I said, flexing my 16-inch arms.

“Oh, and I can make protein pancakes! Maybe I can add it to other pastries too. It’ll be healthy, useful and delicious. I bet your mom could never have thought of that.” He said smugly.

“Dude, focus. Why does everything have to be cooking with you?”

“Sorry, I got too excited there. It’s just that I haven’t made breakfast you guys liked, it’s completely her territory. For now. Maybe If I make this, you guys will eat it.”

”You know we’ll have to finish whatever you both end up cooking anyway, right?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t count. I want you to eat it because you like it.” The man said, just when I thought he was sane.

”Well that’s irrelevant. Don’t you think it’s a great idea?” He asked.

Even though he’s a maniac, I have to admit.

“I guess it’s not bad, I don’t have to drink and eat at the same time. Just don’t make too much, you get easily full with those things.”

“Don’t worry about it man. Don’t you have morning football practice to burn off the calories?”

“Alright, just don’t put raisins in there. I heard somewhere that they make you dehydrated.”

I shoo him out of the door and start undressing. Contemplating on a compression shirt or an oversized Tee, my head starts running. I am objectively muscular, but compared to the guys at the gym, I’m nothing. I don’t think I’m big enough yet. Oversized Tee it is then.

Grabbing my duffle, I ran downstairs. Then, the scent of banana chocolate sweets blasted my face.

“Morning Jay, come try it out. This is really good.” Dad called out with his mouth half full.

I picked up the buttered pancake. It smells nice, with some cherry scent in there too.

“Dang, this is not bad, Pumpkin,” I shouted to him in the kitchen.

“Right? And with more space in the stomach for drinks, you can try Chloe’s fruit smoothie.” Dad said.

“Don’t worry sweetie, the fruits are from the farmers market so it’s healthy.” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

Looking back at the breakfast, it’s a bit more bulky than usual, but I’m gonna work it off in the morning drill anyway.

Without more hesitation, I dug into the full plate of pancakes and blueberry whipped cream.

“Sweetie, you’re already done? I have more in the back.” Mom said

“She really stepped up her game, right?” Dad chimed in.

“It was awesome mom. Thank you, and help me thank Theo too. But I really need to go now. The practice starts in 30.”

“Alright sweetie, stay safe and don’t be late. I’ll have David finish off the rest.”

“Wait, me? But there’s so much!” Dad whined.

“Love you Mom, love you dad, gotta go.”

I rushed out of the house with the faint sound of their replies.

I felt bad for Dad, since school started, I’ve been leaving the leftovers to him because of school. More often than not, Theo and Mom would overcook and we would be left with more food than we know how to deal with. So Dad would take his usual time for morning runs to finish it before going to work. I need to make it up to him somehow. I guess I could offload his burden by eating more on the weekends.

The practice went as well as it could with my stomach full of pancakes; although Coach thought I had a lot of potential with all the fumbles. Probably because Dad was a star quarterback here back in his days.

“You just need to get used to the team dynamic here, then it will all be fine, Jacob. Don’t sweat it,” Coach said.

It was easier said than done. Someone literally asked me how long my dick was, then groped my pec. At least in high school, people had the decency of being embarrassed.

Maybe I do need to chill off. Go to the club like they said. I do have the biggest pecs out of everyone after all. And I heard people like big glutes, so maybe someone would want me.

It took me a month to search up a club. I was not stalling. Then, another month to put the address into Google Maps. I was busy. Homework has been rough, the professor hates me and Theo needs me to restock. Nonetheless, I finally have time now.

Yay.

Putting on Dad’s old Beige Polo, I look pretty good. The shirt hugs my muscles too much for comfort, but it’s the one day of the month I’m supposed to look like a slut. The light is going to be dimmed anyway.

Fishing for the keys, my hand found some candied fruit on the stand. The guy even knows how to make candies from leftover fruits, who even does that? I grabbed some to put it in my mouth.

On my way out I caught a glimpse of my father in the kitchen. He’s been starting to brew homemade beers with steady progress.

“Oh, Jay! You’re going out? You got a date, yeah?”

He turned back, revealing the newly grown beer belly.

“What?! Of course not. It’s the shirt right? I look like a try hard.”

”Haha, be careful whose shirt you’re insulting. That was my lucky shirt.”

He misunderstood, I just thought I would look half as in place as he looks if I wear this. I really shouldn’t go.

”You’ll be alright son, you’re a charming young man. People will see that.”

My eardrums are fucking gushing blood.

The Club sound rattled through my bones as random guy number six and random chick number four came.

Dad was right. I was quite charming, TOO charming, even.

“Oh my gosh look at those arms,” running her hand, Random chick number four said.

“He probably has killer abs too. Wanna come home with me tonight, Jock boy?” Random guy number six said.

“Sorry man, I’m straight. I also have a friend waiting for me in the car.” I replied.

“Aww man, too bad. I wanted a dumb jock to rail me tonight.” He said while walking off. Seriously, what is up with people these days?

At least I still have my 16 dollar margarita with me in the corner.

Lost in my head, a potential random guy number seven approaches.

“Hey, what’s a hot guy like you doing in the corner?” Number seven asked.

“Sorry, I’m straight.”

“Ahh, my bad. Worth a shot,” He said.

“Man, why is every Dad bod fuck boys straight? Gay people are too obsessed with their bodies to have the look,” he added.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.”

My 16 dollar margarita was spilt.

“Oh, Shit. Sorry I don’t know what to do.” I’m glad to not have a friend in my car waiting to see me embarrass myself.

“Don’t worry man, I’ll handle it.” Number seven said.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I have a Dad bod, is a fuck boy, or even gay. But the guy he described is the kind of masculine, wild man I aspire to be. Not a shit given to what people think. Maybe I can be that guy tonight.

“Sorry I’m not the Dad bod fuck boy you thought I was.”

I already butchered it. Why the hell did I say that? That’s not what a guy without a care in the world would say.

“What if you are.” He reached under my polo and grabbed my abs. Or softer abs, cause he’s clearly grabbing something.

“But I’ve never done this before,” Holy shit, I need to shut the fuck up.

“No worries, you just need to sit back and enjoy.”

I look back at the rotting toilet. Maybe not sit.

“We’re gonna make this quick, alright?” He said. Then gave my stomach a quick squeeze.

I’m telling Mom and Theo to cut back on the food tonight.

He slid down the zipper and tugged on my dick.

“You’re not who I imagined to be, but I like pathetic boys like you too.” He said.

“Wait, what? I - fuuuck.”

He uses his thumb to twirl around my cock head; then the freak proceeds to lick my stomach pudge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I involuntarily groaned.

“Hahaha, seems like it would be quicker than I thought.”

He laughed. Fucking laughed at me. And my dick is harder than ever before.

Then, out of nowhere. He grabbed my ass and sucked half of my length in.

“Holy sh-“ I yelped

He covered his left hand on my mouth and said hushly. “Jesus, fuck boy! Do you want everyone to hear? I mean it’s hot, but we’ll get kicked out.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just ohhhhhh.”

He sucked the entire length in as I got into his throat. It’s cold for a second with the air being sucked, then it warms up my dick as I get closer to the edge. And, wait, did I just moan out loud?

Didn’t give me a chance to breathe, he repeated the motion again and again.

I’m really close.

“Not yet fuck boy.” He said as he guided my hand to my pec.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Twist your nipples and do not stop until we’re done.”

Strange request, but it seemed like there was a lot I didn’t know, so I complied.

“I thought only women like this?” I asked as I squeezed my nipples.

He immediately got back to work as if telling me to shut the fuck up.

Then, I feel it.

It might be the cold air conditioning or the fact that I have my cock in someone’s fucking mouth, but my nipples perked up and got sensitive all of a sudden.

He starts to squeeze and rub my stomach as my senses overload.

Once in a while, he would come up with a remark or two.

“I bet you’re the kind of guy that likes to sit around, munch all day, let other people take charge and fuck you,” He said.

”I bet your bubble butt will grow twice as big by the end of the year because you hate the gym deep down,” He said.

It all doesn’t make sense. I only have five, ten tops of weight added, but my dick gets even harder.

“Come on, fuck boy. Twist those fat tits for me,” he said as the sucking picks up the pace.

“Fuck yeah, my fat tits.” It’s all too much for me to form a thought.

“Fuck my fat ass too.”

“Yeah, faster!”

He gave my slight belly a final squeeze as I cummed harder than I’d ever experienced.

I can feel my dick still shooting out cum as I blacked out.

Someone is wiping me.

Oh, right.

“Great, you’re up.” Random man said.

”Huh?”

“It got real messy, eh?” He continues.

“Sorry, I got carried away earlier. You’re just so hot.”

It seems like he’s not going to stop talking.

“You’re obviously still a jock, but hey. A man can dream,” he said

“You’ve got some real potential, kid.” He patted my apparently now-existing belly and said.

I don’t get it. I’ve been eating more than usual lately, and Theo’s snacks don't help, but mom got the ingredients from the farmers market, so they were definitely healthy. Maybe I am missing something else.

“Here,” he hands me a small piece of paper.

“Call me if you want to do this again.”

Then just like that, the strange man leaves.

I didn’t give a second glance at the piece of paper before throwing it in the trash can.

Against my better judgment, I put my hand back in the disgusting trash can.

No harm in keeping it.

The stranger’s words ring in my head as I put an undisclosed sum of money on margaritas.

Maybe I do like being taken care of.

***

My phone vibrated for the thousandth time today, almost causing an earthquake.

“Aggggah, leave me aloneeee. Help me baby Jesus.”

The alcohol from last night, plus the vibration is enough to kill a bear.

Opening the over-lit phone, I see Theo’s happy ginger face.

Theo: Hey Jay, could you help me buy a cookbook I want at the mall, asap?

Me: kys❤️

Mom: Jacob, could you explain the language?

Shit, it's the family chat!

Me: It means keeping yourself safe, mom. I'll go to the mall in a bit!

Theo, the little bastard, replied with a laughing emoji.

Brushing my teeth, I saw myself in the mirror.

Definitely can’t unsee it now. I still have some abs definitions, it’s just pushing out now.

I hesitated, looking at the protein ice cream sandwich mom prepared for me.

Well, I do need something to settle my stomach from the alcohol. Plus, protein is always healthy.

Grabbing a few more ice cream sandwiches, I made my way to the bus.

The mall is located in the middle of nowhere. Nobody comes here except for Costco. Apparently there’s a chain book store too.

Finding the book has been proven difficult. Half the store sells stationery, and the other half sells boring books nobody wants. There is no reason for the store to be this huge.

By the time Theo, the brat, had confirmed the book, it was already past two.

“Hello, excuse me. Is there no restaurant here whatsoever?” I asked the book nerd from the counter.

“Ahhhhh, there’s ahh fast food down the lane, to um, the right?”

“Alright, thanks.” Looks like I’m going to starve myself until I get back.

Going to the bus station, I pass the fast food place. They must have had a rebranding these couple of years. They used to smell like kids puke. Now… it smells like some sweet apple pie, fries, or chicken nuggets? Yeah, definitely some chicken nuggets. Haven’t had them in years.

No. I must not get carried away.

Dad said fast foods are not real food. Ever since he watched the Super Size Me documentary, he banned the whole family from eating fast food, and I thank him for it every day.

Today will be an exception. This will be my reward for going through everything that happened this week.

“So, we have a discount for everyone who uses our app. You can also get points for a free meal in the app.” The fat ass cashier asked.

“Yeah, why not. I could save a few.” Not like I’m going to use it after this.

My hands end up with a combo of fries, burger, nuggets and a medium soda.

While enjoying the smell of garbage goods, I catch a glimpse of an obese guy sitting in the corner.

He looks. Wait, it’s Avery Lancaster.

Holy shit it’s true. He did gain 70 pounds and some more. Looks like he’s in his 300s now.

The image of his fat ass hanging off the seat brought me back to reality.

I will not eat at this restaurant ever again after this meal, so I won’t end up like him.

Except for the fries. The fries are too good to pass.

For The rest of the semester, things went as well as they could.

Homework has been piling up, the professor still hates me, so I have less time to hit the gym.

Sports are enough for me so stay fit anyway. At least until next year’s spring season starts.

Coach has been supportive of my decision to bulk up. He just gave me an ominous warning about off-season athletes bulking too much.

When the Thanksgiving holiday came, I was ready to go on a diet.

After the holidays.

Because mom has seriously improved her skills, and, as much as I don’t wanna say it, Theo’s food is basically tailored made to my taste. They might just be.

I have a sneaking suspicion that they are using Dad and I as testing metrics for their little competitions. Just a suspicion. Because recently Theo started focusing on making food for me, Mom began to make food primarily for Dad.

The suspicious duo seem to have the belief that weight equals love. If that is the case, I am truly screwed. There is no one but dead people who can resist Theo’s cooking. I’ve even been brainwashed to think Theo’s food rants are interesting, that’s how powerful he is.

By the end of the Christmas dinner, I could tell that Theo had probably lost in their competition by the look on his face. I almost felt bad for not eating enough.

It's not like the food wasn’t good; my opponent is Dad. His appetite is unmatched. At the beginning of the year, he barely eats anything for breakfast while keeping his plant-based diet. Now he’s an absolute beast, he can inhale 15 pancakes at the speed of sound. Whatever I’ve gained this year, Dad probably has gained twice as much. He also grew out his beard and body hair which I struggle to do. There is literally no better definition of man than him.

After the Christmas dinner, I went up to assess the damage.

Twenty-two pounds of flabby fat gained this year.

Why don’t I at least look like Dad with a firm, rounded gut? Instead, mine grows around the underbelly, looking like a soft fanny pack.

I need to stop thinking about this. I’m still muscular after all. 215 is nothing compared to the guys on the team.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.” His voice echoed in my head.

Deleting the notifications from the fast food app, I opened the phone and dialled the number for Random Guy number 7.

Chapter 2 ->

#male weight gain #exjock #fit to fat

1K notes · View notes

landopoet · 6 days ago

Text

two prizes.

pairing lando norris x journalist!reader

warnings smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of alcohol

synopsis that day was not the first time you and lando had met, and he helps you remember that

author’s note posting my older works, thanks to @clovermoters for the collage up top!

♯

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Miami GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy. “This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a piece of paper with something scribbled on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “A victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It was you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

455 notes · View notes

keeps-ache · 1 year ago

Text

heghhehheghe i've had a soda

#just me hi #llsllslsldjjsjfvhsbdcsjdhvbfskalkdjfsadfkvadjkvsabfv #ehehehehehgh #i'm waiting for the weight of the world to calm me but so far i've smacked my thumb (just my thumb. ???) against a box and Ow #oooooouooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo #it's not even productive excitement i just gotta. bite something i think hfbshdbcd #WOW #oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo #does anybody else make a like. T-t-ts-t-t-ts-t noise when they get excited because Whheee #how much caffeine is in doctore perrder. i must know #66 mg... nnniceee #did you know there's about 194 mg of caffiene in a triple sot of expresso?? i just learned that #i can also remember my mom's entire starbucks order. which makes sense but we're wasting memory space on this hfbshd #a venti java chip frappeccino with 3 shots of expresso on the side #it HAD to be on the side because something something they never got he shots right lmao #she stopped going ot starbuchs like years ago though because well. it sucked in like 5 different way lol #and also we had to tease her into not going so :) now she makes coffee at home #like we had a win but why am i suffering now hdbsd!! coffe smells like skunk stink. so bad so sad man hsfhs #okkeyy.... i'm slinkying away now.. oOoOoOoOoOO!!! :0 :D

2 notes · View notes

theblacklewinsky · 2 months ago

Text

Note: a draft your girl finally finished after a month of just sitting there. hopefully y'all enjoy!

TAKEN CARE OF. | Aaron Pierre.

Cuck!Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( threesome, oral sex (f receiving) fingering, cucking), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight manipulation if you squint. daddy kink.

Summary: in which Terry wants to watch you and his homeboy.

how much fun it's gonna be together.

Smooth sounds of Donny Hathaways 'This Christmas' blared from the Alexa on your counter as you bounced around your spacious apartment kitchen. It was close to the holidays and you'd been scouring TikTok for an hour when you came across this sugar cookie recipe, two hours later and you finally were able to put this batch in the oven. You were a florist, not a baker.

You hummed along to the lyrics, sweeping up your debris and your flour catastrophe from earlier you hadn't even heard your boyfriend Terry come stalking into your shared apartment. In fact you weren't aware of anything, too lost in your enthusiasm for the sugar cookies and your dazed cleaning you only jumped when you felt arms slip around your waist, sheer shock quickly melted into warm familiarity when you felt Terry's lips against your cheek. You sighed in relief, nearly falling back into his grasp.

"Baby, you've gotta stop doin' that!" You huffed knitting your brows together in mock irritation as you turned to face him, swatting him playfully in the chest.

"Mhm," he hummed in no contest to your statement, knowing your words held no weight to him as he pulled you closer by the sheer tank top you wore pressing his lips against yours softly, leaving three slow, lingering kisses behind, you noticed how faintly he tasted of alcohol. "What you in here makin?" He looked at you eyes narrowing as he thumbed away a bit of flour that seemed to stick to your cheek. Skepticism ruled his gaze, since he was the primary cook, you barely knew your way around breakfast and here you were baking sugar cookies. We love an impulsive diva.

"Sugar cookies," you smiled innocently, "I found an easy recipe on TikTok and I wanted to try it," you decided not to tell him about the two bags of flour you used trying to perfect this so called easy recipe, instead easing his mind with two soft kisses. "How was your boys night?" You asked him about the events prior, he didn't often have a boys night out between coordinating martial arts classes at his gym, and spending whatever free time he had with you, he deserved a night out.

"It was cool, I'm glad to see my baby though," he mumbled a little shrug in his shoulders as he reached out to grab you by the thin material of your tank top once again, he was always so touchy when he was tipsy. Not that you were complaining though, you loved any type of affection from your man. "Why you so far from me? I wanna feel you."

"I'm literally right here," you giggled school-girlishly as he tucked his face in the crook of your neck softly nibbling and kissing there.

"You still ain't close enough," he declared, voice slightly muffled by your flesh. He pressed one more lingering kiss there before steadying both his hands on either sides of your hips, his expression growing more serious. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about though."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Boys night? What happened?"

"Lotta shit baby," he vaguely commented before continuing, "you know my nigga Leo," he paused waiting for your verification to which you gave him with an easy nod. You did know Leo, he'd came over to your house warming earlier in the year when you and Terry both decided to move in together, and he'd showed up for a couple of the events you guys hosted at your place. So you'd seen him a handful of times, and a handful of times you caught him staring. But that was a normality to you, you were a strikingly gorgeous woman and you knew that. Plus, Leo was your man's homie, and you didn't get down like that. Or did you?

"Yeah, you know he left the club a lil earlier than us—his lady was trippin' and shit on him. Long story short, she threw all his shit out and he just having a bad night, he could use some cheering up," he calmly said, leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face.

Your brows furrowed at his words. Confusion had settled in at once, how were you supposed to cheer him up? You'd barely said more than ten words to him. "Cheer him up like what? I can give him some cookies? Or do you want me to make him a sandwich or something?"

Terry chuckled against your cheek, the deep rumbling of his chuckle sent vibrations through you that sent throbbing waves to your core. You were turned on by this man's chuckle? You were too deep in. "Nah, I need you to cheer him up in a different way mama," he explained focusing his kisses primarily against your lips.

You pulled back from the kiss, "I don't know what you—"

Terry silenced you, pulling you into a head spinning kiss. This wasn't a soft peck, or a couple quick kisses to your lips, this one was slow, and passionate. He was trying to devour you, for whatever reason. "You trust daddy, right?" He asked when you parted to catch your breath. He continued his sizzling kisses down to your jawline.

"Yeah, but—"

Terry pulled back his own brows furrowing as he grabbed your jaw firmly in his hand, "you trust daddy, right?" He repeated his question more firmly making you nod slowly, your big brown eyes boring into his.

"Yes," you answered breathlessly as he leaned down to kiss your lips once more.

"Yeah, you do," he mumbled in between kisses to your lips, " 'course you trust daddy. Of course you do."

"You wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?" He followed up with another question that had furthered your peaking arousal. You nodded against his lips, highly turned on, highly dazed. Terry always had this effect on you. He had a way with that mouth.

"Yes, I'd do anything for you." You declared between kisses. And why did you go and blurt that out? It was of course mostly true, but part of it had to do with the spiking arousal you felt. You wanted his tipsy ass to order you around this kitchen, tell you what to do to him, how to do it to him. But maybe you shouldn't have said this to him, although he already knew it, it was dangerous hearing it from you.

"Yeah?" He mumbled pressing his lips against yours once more, earning a dazed nod from you. "I'm glad you said that baby, cause I want you to give yourself to him."

You froze. Give yourself to him? You'd talked about threesomes before, not that Terry wasn't enough for you, he was more than enough. But it was his idea, and you were always down to try anything once. He talked about wanting to share you with another man, watch you, make sure you got yours but this was...a lot. Spontaneous might as well had been you and your man's middle names but this was again, a lot.

He noticed your apprehension and took that as the cue to kiss it all away. "You said you trust daddy, right? Do anything for me?" He muttered all his questions against your lips and you nodded slowly.

"I do," you obliged.

"So why I see you hesitating?"

"Cause I'm not a whore!" You exclaimed folding your arms over chest, a slight pout forming on your lips. The hesitation you had wasn't because you were scared, or nervous about Leo. But what if he was good, so good, too good, what if Terry started to get territorial as he often did. What if this was a big mess?

"You not, baby," Terry agreed his lips meeting your pouted ones once more. "But you my slut, and you wanna make daddy happy and do anything for him, right? This what I want."

"You can make that happen for me?" He asked softly, awaiting your response, to which you squeaked out a small yes. Such a slut.

"Good girl, baby," he muttered to you the praise making your pussy flutter as he sent yet another kiss to your lips, "love that shit." Dazed, you hadn't realized he was leading you into the living area where Leo had been sitting on your sectional all along. Luckily, the Christmas music blaring from the kitchen masked your whole private conversation with your man.

"Baby, you know Leo. Leo, you know my bitch." He muttered keeping his attention preoccupied by you, kissing and nibbling wherever he could from your face to your neck, his hands roaming all around your frame. He gathered all your attention, barely giving you a minute to acknowledge the man you were about to give yourself to on the couch.

"And before she take care of you," he paused in between hot kisses to your neck causing small whimpers to slip past your lips as you tilted your head to give him more access to the sensitive flesh there, "you gon take care of my bitch, like I always do. Ain't that right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hummed through a moan nodding eagerly.

"Get yo' ass over there on that couch then," he commanded to you, voice low and raspy. You bit down on your bottom lip to impede the moan that threatened to slip past your lips at his tone. You mustered up enough strength, however, to pull yourself away from him—earning a sharp slap to your ass. This was exactly what you wanted though, him to boss you around, make you feel overheated, you never envisioned another

You sat on the sectional, a few away from Leo, watching your man earnestly as she made sure to take a seat beside you, you leaned in to kiss him and was stopped short.

"Mm mm," he hummed to you, " turn around, and face him." Pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before you slowly turned around to face Leo. Back against your man's chest you never pictured yourself here even with the few conversations you and Terry had about a threesome.

You always had a way of making some things awkward, it was just part of your nature. Do you look at him? Try to be seductive? Not look at him? Everything had your mind racing, you were comfortable, sure, but how do you please another man in front or your man without it being weird?

"You okay?" Terry asked softly in your ear, making you nod earnestly as you finally made eye contact with Leo. Terry's wandering hands easing your slight nervousness, slipping up your tank top, hands immediately going to fiddle with your bra covered breasts. "Rub her down, relax my bitch." He muttered, words muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sending a flurry of wet kisses and nibbles there. You were already relaxed, so relaxed.

Leo met your eyes once you could fully open them, "you good with this?" He asked you softly, wanting your full consent before he touched you. You gave him a slow nod, watching as he inched closer to you, his big hands making your skin sizzle as soon as he started to rub the fatty flesh there, squeezing and kneading.

Leo was attracted to you, that was no surprise. You could see it, Terry had seen it—it'd take a blind man not to see how enthralled he'd become every time you seemed to be around. His eyes followed your every move every time he laid eyes on you, and now he had his hands touching you intimately. It was surreal to him.

But to you, it felt good. Feeling two sets of hands on your upper body, and your lower body was completely intoxicating. Terry's swooning kisses on your neck had heat radiating throughout your whole body, and Leo's hands massaging and kneading your meaty thighs had the arousal in your panties spreading. You felt so hot, so turned on. You didn't feel as small as you did before with both men in the room—you felt confident, sought after.

"Look at you, enjoyin' this shit," Terry muttered into your ear, lips tracing the shell of your small ear, "tried to act like you ain't want this shit," he spoke roughly as his hands ripped the very bra that covered your breasts down, pulling the tank top up over the c cups he so badly wanted to see, his chin resting on your shoulder as his big hands canvased your breasts. Nothing but a weak whimper of so called protest being your only reply.

"I know what my bitch want," he muttered to you, so lost in his words you hadn't given Leo a second gaze when you felt his fingers tugging the waistband of your leggings, "try to act like you not a slut. You got two niggas feelin' on you right now, mama. What that make you, hm?" He hummed, both his thumbs and pointer fingers pinching and pulling your sensitive buds. Your shuddering breaths filling the atmosphere of your living area. Terry just knew what to say.

But maybe you were too lost in his words, because you hadn't even noticed that now your panties had been pooled around your ankles, and discarded across the living room by Leo. You hadn't noticed until you felt him spreading your thighs and resting them above his own shoulders. He laid flat on his stomach across your sectional, your brown eyes boring into his lighter ones as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs.

Terry, noticing just how anxious you were getting; hands fisting the cushioning of your couch beneath you, your slightly quickened breathing. He smirked into the crook of your neck, pressing soft lingering kisses there. He knew you would enjoy this shit, just as much as he was enjoying just watching you.

A soft, shallow gasp slipped past your lips once he finally licked a small patch up starting from your hole, all the way back up to your clit. A small tremble in your thighs was a testament to just how turned on you'd been from this whole ordeal.

"Mhm," Terry hummed into your ear, "you so fuckin' horny, look at you. Thighs already tremblin' and he just started, mama." Terrys words with the way Leo's lips were now latched around your swollen nub, him softly moaning into your pussy, sending a wave of vibrations through you. Your mouth falling open, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your head fell back against Terry's broad shoulder.

"Listen to him, you taste good to him baby," Terry mumbled his hands now rubbing more firmly across your breasts, "taste so good to him—can't wait to taste you later."

The abrupt removal of his mouth sent of pang of disappointment through you, a disapproved whimper coming from you as you lifted your head only to see the man before you, his eyes locked onto your heated core as he spat down onto your pussy, his pointer finger and middle finger spreading you apart for him, his fingers lazily rubbing the extra wetness in, before slowly guiding his slender fingers into you.

Two pairs of eyes watched your expression eagerly, your mouth gaped open once again, the slight roll of your eyes making Terry chuckle as your lips formed into a small frown. "Fuuuck," you slurred out, your hole immediately clenching around his fingers as he immediately returned to his fixation with your clit. Leo was obviously a man of few words, but his mouth made up for the little talking that he did. He was so good.

"You feel taken care of, baby? He takin' care of you the way daddy do?" Terry asked you, lips kissing and sucking whatever exposed skin he could, leaving red and purple bruises wherever he landed. You nodded eagerly, not trusting yourself to form words. Leo's lips latching and unlatching on your clit, with loud, sloppy sucks.

"Talk to me, bitch," he said more firmly at the absence of your response, hand gripping your jaw firmly.

"Yessss, i feel taken care," you trailed off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, pretty eyes going crossed as your hand held the back of Leo's head in place, the familiar burning coil in the pit of your stomach only getting bigger. "Shiitt, yes, yes, yes!" Your usual soothing tone now high and frantic. You nodded vigorously to nothing in particular, just the overwhelming pleasure you were currently succumbing to.

"You wanna cum, hm? You wanna cum don't you? I can feel that shit." Terry asked, you nodded in response, you couldn't talk. Small gasps ripping through you as you felt Leo's fingers pushing into you with a different vigor, his fingers nudging that sweet spot all too well. "Yeah? She wanna cum, make my bitch cum." He spoke, voice slightly muffled by his lips pressed against your skin, lewd words directed toward Leo.

"But you better not fuckin' cum bitch," he mumbled more quietly to you, lips trailing back up your neck to your ear, "you better not fuckin' cum for another nigga unless I tell you to, you hear me?" He muttered to you, a sharp edge to his quiet tone as his lips teased the shell of your ear.

A small whine slipped past your lips, Leo's mouth and fingers working in complete overtime to make you do just that, cum. But you knew better than anything that Terry controlled every nut that you got, whether inflicted by him, you, or toy. You should've known another man was no different.

"Please, daddy," you breathlessly and desperately pleaded, hoping that your soft and sweet pleas would sway him.

"Mm-mm," he hummed in protest, lips kissing the shell of your ear softly, but you persisted in your slurring pleas for him to let you cum, mumbling nonsense in between broken words of how much you needed to, "what i say? Stop beggin' bitch, I said no. Hold it." He firmly said, hand slapping firmly against your cheek. In between Terry's now territorial nature and Leo's drive to make you cum you felt so light, but so heavy at the same time. Your mind seemed to be elsewhere, body denying to release the way you so badly wanted to, the nagging urge sending tears to your eyes.

It wasn't until Terry seen the tears cascading down your cheeks, minutes down the line that his resolve started to deteriorate. He loved seeing you come undone, broken, all under a simple command by him. But he also loved seeing the pretty faces, and hearing the most prettiest sounds when you came. "Why you cryin' baby? You wanna cum that bad?" He asked you brows furrowed in mock concern, dragging his hand down to your neck, forcing you to look up at him through your watery, blurred vision.

He didn't allow time for your answer, his own lips connecting with your swollen ones softly. "Cum. Cum for daddy. Cum in his mouth, bitch. All of it." He said firmly, against your lips. Your own breathing seemed to leave you, your own resolve crumbling once you heard the words leave his mouth.

And as much as he loved hearing you moan, loved hearing all the pretty noises you made when you came undone for him, he couldn't let another man get the satisfaction of hearing that, his own lips drowning whatever sounds you made. Some things, were reserved just for him.

hey y'all! started this a month ago, and just now finishing it. idk think it has to grown on me y'all lmaooo! i hope you all enjoyed <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @macgrubberrr @dxddykenn @motheroffae

pretty sure I forgot some & I added some just by random and comments lolz, if I forgot you please let me know, my adhd and memory is horrible <3

#Spotify #black writers #black!fem!reader #aaron pierre #fine black men #fine as fuck #terry richmond #rebel ridge #black reader

404 notes · View notes

the-flaneur · 3 months ago

Text

the enemy of my friend is my enemy, but he's also his own worst enemy? so he's my friend? (nr6) | pt3

pairing: nico rosberg x hamilton!reader [smau]

summary: in an attempt to plan a surprise birthday party for your brother's 39th birthday, you enlist the help of his ex-??? to get into his apartment

warnings: none (i think)

[prev] [masterlist] [requests]

-> twitter

-> messages

-> instagram

lewishamilton

liked by fencer, charles_leclerc, roscoelovescoco and others

lewishamilton Excited to be back home for New Year's. Here's to an amazing 2024!

view all comments

user1 LOOKING GOOD SIRRRRRR 😩😩😩

user2 i usually hate manspreading, but the way this man does it is sooooooo sexy user3 literalllyyyyy it's the see through shirt that does it for me though user4 can't wait to see him without his braids, they're the only thing that get me through the winter break 😭😭😭

user5 UGH HOW DOES MONACO HAVE SUCH GOOD WEATHER IN LIKE THE MIDDLE OF WINTER, BRO'S IN A SHORT SLEEVE SHIRT

fencer can't wait to see you brother 💪

user6 yooooo birthday bash hints??? user7 i mean his birthday is pretty soon....maybe we'll see another bro pic hahahaha

user8 happy new years eve from london ❤️

charles_leclerc when are you going to finally invite me out on a yacht trip ☹️

user9 LOL CHARLES ARENT U LITERALLY MONEGASQUE AND RICH - GET UR OWN YACHT 🤣🤣🤣 user10 bro just wants to hang out with the goat

user11 ya'll anyone else catch on y/n's absent comment??? girlie is usually on top with responding to her brother's posts...

user12 yk she doesn't always have to respond right, like she could just be with lewis, or you know...being her own person user13 lmfaooo so real @/user12 user14 but like she's not even given it a like? i wonder where she is... LIKED BY lewishamilton

user15 hopefully mercedes have their car back on track this year, we NEED to see this man win a race 🙌🙌🙌

user16 CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT INSTA POST!!! BIRTHDAY TIMEEEEEE

f1gossipofficial

liked by user17, user18, user19 and others

f1gossipofficial well well well it looks like an old romance may have been rekindled just before new years!

y/n hamilton and nico rosberg have been seen arguing in y/n's ferrari daytona sp3 in monaco, before engaging in a heated makeout session. are we going to see our first new (honorary) wag of 2024?

view all comments

user20 OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user20 WE ARE SO BACK GUYS

user21 HOLY SHIT MOTHER AND FATHER ARE BACK TOGETHER TRULY MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user22 someone gotta call the ambulance for lewis, he's about to get the biggest heart attack of his life

user23 cant believe their relationship has literally been strangers -> friends -> secret lovers -> enemies -> friends? -> lovers????

user24 that's why they're ICONS 💪💪💪 user25 istg if they go back to being enemies after all this crapshow they've put us through... user26 i think max would rather just shove them in a hotlap with him around spa and then lock them together in a room then face them being enemies again

user27 YA'LL ARE MISSING THE POINT AGAIN, THEY'VE PROBABLY BEEN TOGETHER SINCE BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR

user28 RIGHTTTT 🤨 like are people seriously think they havent contacted each other before this lol user29 nah i think this is legit their first interaction in like eight years - welp didn't take them that long to get BACK together

user30 do you guys need a third??? asking for a friend

user31 bros are not subtle at all 😭 making out in such a recognisable car and city where everyone knows who tf they are 😭😭😭

user32 i forgot how good they look together 😍

user33 watch their kids be pretty as f too

user34 well looks like both hamiltons like rosberg, wonder if thats definitely not at all caused any arguments 😒

user35 well you defs werent around for the great hamilton twitter discourse of 2014... user36 oh yeah forgot about that user37 🤨 someone wanna tell me what that is?

user38 CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO ACTUALLY FINALLY POST EACH OTHER AFTER EIGHT YEARS

user39 i missed the anniversary posts so bad 😍 user40 their cute little dates healed something in me

-> messages

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon

enemy or friend (this) series taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@menagerofmischief @mxdi0 @mixedstyles @tinystudentblaze-stuff

@a-beaverhausen @easy4 @formulaal @taygrls @woozarts

@im-an-op81-fan @vampsarereal @amz824 @taylorsvogue13

#⭑ : my work.ᐟ #the-flaneur #smau #x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 smau #nico rosberg fanfic #nico rosberg imagine #nico rosberg smau #nico rosberg fluff #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x you

429 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 3 months ago

Text

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006.

2:26 p.m.

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet.

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path.

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue.

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area.

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood.

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure.

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention).

He sighs and concludes his monologue.

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].”

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko.

“But she just headed out yesterday.”

“I know.”

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?”

“Glad you’re catching on.”

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace.

She commends herself for her patience.

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it.

“When was the last time you updated your passport?”

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.”

“What if we fly first class?”

“Gojo.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?”

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response.

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture.

“Hey, Shoko.”

“Mm.”

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.”

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.”

Satoru doesn’t press the matter.

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three.

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside.

He was born to be the strongest.

He can’t imagine any other life for himself.

Then there’s you.

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids…

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while.

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer?

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice?

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow.

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will?

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of?

It’s a question he’s been avoiding.

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.”

He laughs, incredulous.

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.”

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.”

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president?

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait.

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands.

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.”

… Your room?

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now.

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself.

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman.

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place.

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you.

Suguru’s lips quirk up.

He was fated to meet you.

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?”

She noticed him? How?

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure.

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river.

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.”

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.”

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears.

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference.

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.”

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun?

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…”

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.”

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?”

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that.

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.”

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of.

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?”

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later.

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought.

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…”

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…”

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…”

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues.

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.”

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?”

“Last March.”

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?”

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged.

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia.

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.”

“Satoru,” he implored.

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.”

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ”

Kaizu.

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that.

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question.

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.”

Akane blinks.

“Hah?”

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.”

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired.

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.”

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience.

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion.

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing.

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense.

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.”

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them.

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists.

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation.

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.”

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines.

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph.

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night.

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them.

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom.

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru.

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete.

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I—”

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands.

“... Where did you get that?”

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?”

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy.

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?”

“I replaced it.”

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.”

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit).

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?”

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?”

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…”

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.”

“And then what?”

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.”

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises.

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases.

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat.

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous.

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.”

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.”

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?”

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway.

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.”

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest.

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.”

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it.

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu.

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.”

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone.

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake.

“Tired?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?”

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans.

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies.

“Hm?”

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?”

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.”

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call.

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?”

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love.

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick.

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours.

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand.

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.”

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue.

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again.

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away.

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt.

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out.

You sniffle and kick a rock aside.

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly.

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them.

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand.

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long.

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds.

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome.

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds.

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it.

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them.

And in the future…

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter.

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound.

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind.

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!”

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation.

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.”

“We could always settle in court,” you offer.

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.”

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.”

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?”

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?”

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand.

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—”

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!”

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture.

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression.

“... You’ve gotten faster.”

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.”

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!”

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.”

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!”

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket.

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?”

“All depends.”

“Of course.”

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory.

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?”

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare.

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution.

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?”

So they picked up on it too, you think.

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down.

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…”

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees.

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.”

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.”

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows.

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him.

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered.

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?”

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them?

“Eh?!”

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…”

“... We’re the strongest.”

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #golden girl #my stuff

428 notes · View notes