#No wonder the end is worth the means to her
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Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me
Gates Of Hell
Word Count: 9.2k
Warnings: mentions of death, violence, claustrophobia, lotsssssss of angst - i am the real monster, gun use,
steve is adorable as usual and y/n is... she needs help, my girl is going through it
[A/N: It's 3am and I thought it was a great time to rewrite the ending so if it's bad, that's why. In all seriousness, I am so thankful to everyone who has an insane amount of patience. I am currently on my last few months of uni so it's been hectic but I do still love writing this fic, I just haven't had time :( I hope the weeks of waiting were worth it?
To sum up this chapter... I have officially decided I am incapable of happiness... anyways, enjoy!]
Don't Forget Me
The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me.
Ever since those words slipped from your mouth, the realisation was striking the remaining tethers to your sanity.
The radio had cut out a while ago, leaving a long strand of frustrating static in the air. You couldn’t find yourself to care about that right now. Something wants you here. Why?
As it turns out, you weren’t the only one wondering.
“This monster is running around making gates, and following you? Why you?” Steve had attempted to reclaim the radio signal once it had blared incomprehensible static, but he had no such luck. Instead, he turned back to you, feeling sick at the haunted look on your face.
“I don’t know.” You say quietly, staring down at the damp map lying on the rocky floor in front of you.
“It doesn’t make sense.” Steve states, squinting at the small building your finger currently rested on.
“I’m aware of that.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.
“But you still think you’re the pattern we can’t quite figure out?”
“I don’t know, Steve!” You suddenly snap before the colour drains from your face. You didn't mean to do that. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s too specific to only be a coincidence. I just don’t know why.”
Steve slowly nods, cautious of the way you were tucking your hands into your sleeves, obviously trying to hide their uncontrollable shaking.
“Is it to do with the virus?” He asks, the question tasting like poison on his tongue.
The virus is almost covering you now, creeping up your jaw. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, and Steve had already seen it. Already the venom was influencing you more than you had expected.
“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, mindlessly flexing your fingers.
“Then what’s different?” He looks at you with a soft frown, a look you’ve seen more in the past few days. “If not the virus, what else could it possibly want with you?”
You start to shrug, conditioned to feel like you were in the dark. Since finding the others in the lab, it had become increasingly clear that you were an outsider to their heroic group. You weren’t there when El was first discovered, completely unaware that the small girl adopted into your family was a superhero in her own right. You didn’t fight a demogorgon, or protect the kids from danger, and you especially didn’t save the world.
But this wasn’t about them anymore. This was about you. Your connection. And with all you’ve been through in the last month, you’re the only one who could solve this mystery.
Your breath catches in your throat and Steve finds your eyes, questioning.
“The dust…”
The giant shadow of a monster you had seen before was looming over what used to be the police station. It didn’t have eyes, nor even a face, but you knew it was looking directly at you.
And you felt paralysed.
You watched as it held out an arm… or was it a leg? Whichever, it pointed at you, something fluttered around its shape. Some kind of dust. Black dust.
Everything in you told you to run, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The dust approached closer, slithering along the ground like vines. And you stared, heart jumping into your throat…
Wisps of wind trailed past your ears, unheard from the heartbeat thrumming against your eardrums until it became louder. It wasn’t just wind… it was voices. Incomprehensible murmurs swirling around you.
Until it wasn’t so incomprehensible any more.
“Tell her”
“Dust?” Steve frowns, tensing his shoulders. “You mean the Mind Flayer?”
“That night the shapeshifter separated us.” You start nodding, absent-mindedly moving closer to him. “I remember escaping the arcade and then…”
“Then?” He prompts, a hushed tone to both of your voices despite the privacy of the rocky ledge.
“I saw the Mind Flayer.” You say and he feels a chill run down his spine. “It- I couldn’t move. And these, like, scary images were in my head before I had this really intense nightmare. The next thing I knew, you were there and I wasn’t stuck anymore.”
“You were in some kind of trance. It took me a while to get you out of it.” He recalls, nodding slowly. Even the memory made his stomach clench. “What did you see? The images?”
“Hawkins.” You lower your eyes, slumping back against the hard rock, “It was… it was like it was on fire. Nothing looked the same. There was this giant gap and-and so many monsters. People… bodies.”
“An apocalypse.” Steve finishes for you and you nod your head, eyes squeezed shut.
“If we don't stop whatever it is opening these gates, Hawkins is going to burn.”
Your words struck a chill down his spine, the fear in your eyes evident even as you try and avoid looking towards him. There was a scared determination in the way you started down at the map. It was almost as if Steve could feel the waves in your brain radiating with an idea.
That's cute, Steve thought as you bit your lip in concentration. Adoring you felt better than the dread of an apocalypse.
“I'm going to the motel.”
Steve’s head almost snapped off his neck in the miniscule amount of time it took him to react, staring at you like you were crazy. You are crazy.
“Are you crazy?!”
He expected some sort of retort, or an ounce of an amused grin on your lips. But you only nodded.
“We know this thing is there. If I can catch it, kill it, whatever, I can save whoever is left. This is my chance to stop it.”
You were being reasonable, offering a calm take on the situation with a decision you were ready to face. Steve, on the other hand, took your proclamation as an act of war.
“If you think for one second I’m gonna let you get yourself killed, you’re outta your mind.” He says with a stern face, prompting your brows to scrunch together.
“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” You shot back and he shakes head in disbelief.
“Y/n, this isn’t just some fun little holiday where you can do whatever you want. You’re gonna walk into a literal death trap!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was already settling in and taking control.
“There is something there that’s been following me, following us! Don’t you want to figure it out? End all of this?!”
“Whatever it is has been managing to rip a gap between worlds with its mind! It’s mind, Y/n!” He stressed, expressing himself with his hands, “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that and neither do you!”
“What does it matter? I’m dead either way!”
You can see him pale in front of you, sucking in a breath.
“Don’t say that.” He whispers out, a quiver in his bottom lip and you hate yourself. Why did you have to hurt the people you loved?
“It’s true, Steve. I’m already out of time.” You tilt your head, a clash of lightning above illuminating the veins that slithered along your jaw. “I want to find whatever it is poisoning our town and I want to destroy it before…”
“Before what? It spreads to other towns?” He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It’s made it pretty clear it only wants Hawkins-”
“Before it gets you.” You finish, staring up at him. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would see your reflection, a reminder of what he was scared to lose, but that you were willing to sacrifice.
“We know there’s a pattern. And now we know it’s me. And… and I don’t know why, but it wants me. This virus is barely hours away from reaching my brain and honestly now is the perfect time to finally figure all this shit out and face it.”
“And if you get killed?” His voice cracks and you bite your lip, pretending like you didn’t know the answer when all you could think about for the past three weeks was the inevitable.
“Like I said,” You gulp, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I’m already out of time.”
“What about your dad? Robin? All of those little shitheads who clearly adore you-”
“They don’t need me, Steve.”
“I do.”
“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”
“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”
“Steve-”
“No, I wouldn’t have survived this thing without you here. Neither of us would have survived...”
When his voice trails off, you watch him scrunch his face and take a deep breath. He walks away from you, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking, struggling to make a decision. But he always did, and it was always the right one.
“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder. You silently shake your head, seeing no reason to prolong this fight. “Fine.”
“Fine?” You repeat, unsure you heard him right.
“I can’t stop you.” He shrugs, sniffing back the emotions lingering at the back of his throat. If he couldn’t convince you, he would just have to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “But I can help.”
“Wait, no-”
“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”
A flash of surprise hits your face as Steve breathes heavy, not giving you another second to try and convince him to let you go. You had to understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go. No matter how many times he lived through that scenario in his head, replaying the scene as if you disappearing would leave his heart intact, he just couldn’t do it. Steve knew it was foolish to expect a different ending, but surely he was allowed to have hope.
Was it hope?
Or was it something he refused to see for what it truly was?
A delusion.
“If this thing is really opening the gates, why don’t we, like, make it open another one?”
Steve’s question hangs in the air when he shakes the thought away, realising the obvious answer before the last word even left his lips.
The ground coughed out a soft crunch beneath your footsteps, trailing beside Steve through the twisted crops of Merril’s farm. Even in the Upside Down, the field didn’t differ visually from the real thing. You remember when the crops started to degrade, Merrill grumbling about his neighbour poisoning them. The dispute had been entertaining to you. But now you knew the truth, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you trip over a vine, managing to regain your balance.
“What’s wrong?” Steve is by your side at an instant, brown eyes laced with worry scanning you.
“Nothing, just tripped.” You dismiss, frowning at the vine behind you. A shudder rolls down your back when you think you can see it moving, but the clash of lightning above was probably playing tricks with the light.
As you go to take another step, your vision blurs. You try and blink it away, rubbing at your eyes. There’s an unsettling rush of heat beneath your skin, scorching your nerves. It should be cause for panic. But you’ve been through this before. Your only fear was knowing you weren’t hiding it anymore.
“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve quickly grabs onto your shoulders and you blink as he catches you before gravity took you victim. You didn’t even realise you were falling. “Hey, you okay?”
No. Steve already knew that. How could you possibly be okay when the virus was slowly closing in on you?
“Just… give me a minute.” You catch your breath, trying every technique to stabilise your heart rate as you fall into a squatted position. You hated that this thing was slowing you down, and you hated being out in the open like this, knowing that because of you, the both of you were going to be in more danger than necessary.
Steve stands by your side, slowly sliding the bag from his shoulder to fish out his bat, hand wavering over the metal weapon resting below. No. That was for emergencies. This was just his paranoia setting in.
“Nice day, huh?” Steve offers when the silence became unbearable, making you laugh. He smiles. He loved making you laugh.
“I’ve seen worse.” You reply, standing back up and taking another breath, slow and easy. “Okay, I think I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“M-hm.” You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you adjusted your bag and found rhythm between your footsteps once again.
It was getting scarier, the time between your virus lapses decreasing more and more. You weren’t ready to turn into one of those things. No one could be.
How would I stop myself from killing?
Your eyes drift over to the boy next to you, his admirable determination guiding you both through the farm like it was his life’s mission.
What if you took his life?
You snap your head away, focusing on your breaths. One breath in. Hold. One breath out.
Will I have to watch myself murder innocent people?
One breath in. One breath out. One breath in-
“Y/n?”
Sometimes the dim light of the Upside Down was a blessing. The low exposure shielded you from seeing the way he looked at you; with concern, sadness, pity. You found it hard to be so vulnerable like this. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You barely allowed yourself to be perceived unless it was for all the wrong reasons.
It was a stupid stupid habit to bear such hatred towards yourself for feeling. But this is how you been for years now. You weren’t sure how to be any other way.
“You’re suspiciously quiet.” Steve comments, attempting to lighten the dreary mood. “Not that I’m complaining. Finally, some peace.”
“Rude.” You reply almost instantly, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.
Steve hated how dark it was in the Upside Down. Without much light, he was unable to study your features in times like this, to watch the joy return to your eyes after weeks of torment.
But even in the dark, he knew exactly how much hurt you were hiding beneath that worn-out mask of yours.
“Seriously. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks you as he scrunches his face in disgust as the tip of his shoe brushes against the pile of inedible black mush that once was a pumpkin.
“Other than monsters, the apocalypse, and my general state of being?” You smirk at him, but he already sensed your hesitancy.
“Yeah, the important stuff.” He shrugs with a chuckle.
I’m scared if you don’t run away, I might hurt you.
You shake your head free of intruding thoughts, focusing on the ones that sparked unusual butterflies in your stomach.
“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”
“Um, you said something earlier. Back at the quarry.” You force yourself to keep walking, trying to hide the smile in your voice.
“Like what?” He blinks innocently. A jolt of anxiety rushes through your brain.
Oh god, what if he didn’t mean it? He could have just gotten confused, or caught up in the intensity of it all and you were about to embarrass yourself for ever thinking differently.
As painful as it is, that option was probably the best one. Maybe then it’ll make it easier when the virus destroys you.
“You, um… you called me your… girlfriend.” You almost cringe trying to finish what you started.
Steve almost trips, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Oh. That.” Steve lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… you know, it was just, uh…”
“Heat of the moment?” You offer quietly and he clears his throat.
“Yeah, right. Heat of the moment.”
“Yeah, of course. That’s- that’s what I thought it was.” You shake your head, wanting to move on from this subject as quickly as you could. “Just wanted to be sure.”
“Would it… would it be so bad if it wasn’t just the, uh, heat of the moment?” Steve suddenly asks.
You go quiet. Too quiet. And Steve clicks his tongue.
“Oh.”
“No, I didn’t mean-” You scrunch your eyes shut, footsteps slowing to a complete stop. “It just doesn’t feel right to say it.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Of course it does. Nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life, you want to scream, seal it in stained ink. But you had to look at the reality. You were going to die. You just wanted to make it as emotionally painless as you could.
“We’re not… we aren’t meant to be together, Steve.” You lie straight through your teeth, avoiding his eyes.
Steve scoffs, a hand on his hips as he looks at you in disbelief. “Yes, we are.”
“No. We’re not.” You say with a little more conviction, shaking your head. “This. Us. It’s not… how do we even know it’s real?”
When you avoided his eyes for a little too long, his hands find your face, cupping your cheeks to gently tilt your head to look at him. You just softly take them away, but he never lets go of your hands.
“If the gates hadn’t opened that day in detention… we never would have even looked at each other again.” You say, sadness coating your voice.
“But it did happen. And I’m looking at you right now. We got through it. Together.”
“We survived together. We- we relied on each other because we literally had no one else to.” You frown, shrugging it away as if your own words weren’t hurting you. “We went through literal hell and that’s what we bonded over. We don’t- How can you say this is real when we’ve been faking it all since day one? Let’s just be honest, it’s not gonna go any further so let’s save us both some time-”
“You’re doing it again.” He interrupts, his gaze on you unwavering.
“I’m not doing anything-”
“You’re pretending like you don’t care.”
You don’t respond.
“I care. A lot. Probably too much for it to just be a- a survival bond or whatever you said. And it’s definitely not fake.” He lets out a soft laugh, heart racing faster. “Actually… I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt something so real with someone before. It’s like- like breathing. You know? I can’t breathe without your stupid cute little face in my head or your annoying voice making me feel calm, or-or even this right here, your delusional belief that someone can’t possibly be in love with you which makes me want to just shake it out of you because it’s true, Y/n. It’s real. I’m in love with you, okay?”
Your mouth parts in silence, just looking at him, stunned. You were only trying to convince some excuses, to try and make it easier when it all inevitably ends. But you hadn’t really taken into account how much you both felt. And now everything was going to be so much harder.
“So, uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, releasing you from his hold and shrugging. “Just accept it.”
You both stand there for a moment, reliving his words. I’m in love with you. Steve doesn’t regret it, but he starts to feel nervous the longer you don’t say something.
“Can you… can you promise me something?”
Steve holds his breath. He knows what you’re going to ask. And he knows that no matter how many times he runs through that scenario in his head, he never pulls the trigger. He won’t take your-
“Don’t forget me.”
It wasn’t the promise he was expecting, brows furrowing with the intention of your words. He just wants to hold you, yell at you until you understood he couldn’t leave you behind, he wouldn’t let the virus take you. He’d find a cure, make one if he had to.
But he didn’t have time to figure out where to start because he was suddenly very aware you were both out in the open. And something was rustling the leaves, watching.
He quickly raises his bat, eyes focused. He can just make out a shadow, making him squint. Probably just another demodog, nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
Except it’s taller. Almost… human?
And then he sees the glowing eyes, the gaping mouth. It was the screaming monster from the Radio Shack.
“Steve?” You frown once you catch it too, looking at him, waiting for his call.
“Once it screams, we run. Every monster and their mother is gonna hear it, and we need to get out of the open, fast.” He hisses between his teeth as he watches the creature weave its way through the trees, drawing closer.
“And lead them all straight to the motel?” You whisper back at him, and his face pales. There goes that plan.
“Shit.”
“What about that house?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head to your left. “The huge one on that hill? It’s the opposite direction from the motel and the closest thing-”
“Oh, god, no.” Steve breathes out, shaking his head with determination. “Remember what Robin called it? You do not enter a house called the murder house. Especially when you’re being chased by murderous flesh-eating monsters!”
“It’s pretty much our only choice right now.” You stress, the small hairs on your arm prickling the closer the creature gets. “We run through, slip out the back, and tail it to the motel before it’s-”
If Steve had any objections, you never heard them. All you heard was the terrifying scream rippling from the unhinged jaw of a ghostly woman.
“Run, run!” You yell, already feeling the effects of an ear-splitting pitch.
Steve immediately grabs your hand and you run, blindly trusting the boy you had assumed your enemy for 4 years of your life.
He wasn’t sure if you’d both be able to get inside in time, fully away of the hoard of monsters emerging from the shadows and chasing you down. It was a risky bet, this house. But you were right. It was the only option.
If Steve wasn’t so adamant on moving fast, he might have felt the soft tug of your arm as your body struggles to keep up, the stretch of the hill proving the laws of physics were never your friend. As long as your hand was in his, you were going to be fine.
The harsh creak of rotten floorboards as Steve barrelled into the room echoed menacingly in his ear. He quickly dropped your hand, pulling you behind him and making haste of tugging a tall and heavy cabinet down so it blocked the entrance. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would give you both enough time to slip out unnoticed.
“That should keep them back, we gotta-”
Steve expected to find your hand as he reached back for you, but the space was bare. He spins around, stomach lurching when he finds you’re already sat against the wall, looking worse every second.
“No.” He drops to his knees and cups your head in his hands when you struggle to keep it up, swallowing his anxiety, “No, hey, sweetheart, hey. Look at me.”
Your weary eyes meet his and his breath hitches. The black veins were now creeping up your cheeks, spreading quicker in the past few hours than they ever had before.
A sudden chorus of thumping snapped his attention, the barricade against the front door almost shattering under the weight of its attackers. It wouldn’t hold much longer. He knew you weren’t in any state to run to the motel, and he had to think fast.
Steve loops his arm around you and pulls you to your feet, muttering a string of apologies as you wince. His eyes catch the bleeding moonlight from above, enticing an idea.
It felt like your whole body was on fire, any movement contracting your muscles to pain until you could nearly faint. But you had to try, you had to move. For him.
He could sense your determination as he moved you both up the staircase, your legs wobbling but making it to the top in a timely fashion. His admiration would have to come later. Right now, he needed you both safe.
The hallway was long and dusty, Steve’s eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He’s unsure where to go next, a lengthy display of doors scattered either side of him as he helps you walk further into the house. Maybe there was another-
A giant crash echoed out in splintered waves, dread flooding his body.
They were here.
Picking the closest door, he drags you both inside and takes care to shut it as quietly as possible, knowing one loud sound could be the end. His nerves were on high alert, struggling to make the life-saving decisions his friends usually expected from him. But the stakes were different this time. There was no one to bail him out if he makes the wrong move, no Nancy or Jonathan to come save the day. It was just him, protecting you.
The door had apparently led to a bedroom, his eyes scanning for a chair or a dresser to block- No. No. That would just make more noise- But what if they got in?
Hide. You need to hide.
Pulling you close to him, he spots a large closet on the other side of the bedroom. That would have to do.
It omitted a soft creak, making him grimace. He carefully lowers you down, noting how you were forcing yourself to breathe in even intervals. You were fighting it as best as you could, and that was all he could ask for.
As he joins you, he manoeuvres you so you were situated between his legs, knowing this would be the only way to ensure you both fit in the small space. His bat is digging into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, his back pressed against the side of the closet as he watches the bedroom door through the crack of light, holding his breath.
He couldn’t hear anything, but that was the scary part. He had hoped to hear the creatures crash through the ground floor and somehow be tricked back outside, relieving his mind with the knowledge he made the right decision.
The space was becoming all too small, even with the door cracked open. And that’s when the fear came creeping in.
What if a demogorgon found you?
What if it tracks your scent, follows the trail up the staircase, opens the third door on the left?
What if it stalks into the room and starts listening closely, hearing his quickened breaths of panic?
What if the last thing Steve saw was the thing ripping open the closet doors, a set of giant claws caging you in, knowing there was no escape?
What if you both died in here?
He exhales a long breath, fading back into reality when he feels something gently squeeze his hand. Your hand. You had intertwined your fingers with his, head laying back against hisshoulder, sensing his anxiety.
Steve had known he was claustrophobic for a while now. As a little kid, he remembers when he and his friends would play in the woods, a hollowed tree trunk on the ground marking the final destination of their adventure. That was the first time he felt fear, he thinks, curled up halfway through the tight space as his shirt was caught on protruding bark. He remembers his friends laughing and leaving to go find his parents when it became all too serious, assuming they had abandoned him there.
The tunnels were far worse than his 7 year old self’s nightmares. When the demodogs came barrelling towards them, his sudden realisation that he would be dragged back into those tunnels and left for dead, he had never felt so hopeless. He couldn’t even fight, not really. He could only attempt to shield Dustin with his body, and pray they made his death quick.
He never really knew how to get himself out of these situations. His parents had enticed him out with harsh words and false promises, eventually dragging him out by his arms when his mind couldn’t stop imagining the tree collapsing in on him. The demodogs hadn’t attacked in the end, sparing them with pure luck and giving him no time to reflect on his darker thoughts, the kids needing him more than he needed closure from himself.
But one single touch of your hand changed everything. No words, no rush. Just a reminder he was still here. And you were here with him.
He felt your body tense the moment the floorboards out on the hallway creak, just quiet enough to let him know the creature was trying to be silent. Something was looking for you.
The virus had taken its toll on you, the past few minutes of your life flashing by in a blur. You don’t even remember climbing into the closet, waiting in suspenseful agony for a sign that the coast was clear. But all of a sudden, you had finally returned to reality, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat on your back.
You almost flinched when you heard something bang against the bedroom door. It was sudden, ricocheting an echo of vibration through the floor. And then it was complete and utter silence.
You must have been shaking because Steve holds you closer, forcing you to take a few quiet breaths. You’d be okay. It will be okay.
Another sharp crash blares out, but it’s further this time. Whatever it was outside of that door was leaving, finally. But that didn’t stop you both from sitting there for a little while longer, afraid to move from the safety of the wooden walls.
It was you who made the first move to leave, shifting in his arms and pointing to the door. You had caught your breath now, shaking away the virus’ side effects with strength Steve could only respect.
Steve pushes the closet door open and you are finally back on your feet, offering a hand to pull him up with you.
“That was close.” He breathes out with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He retrieves his bat from the wardrobe and turns around to see you’re stood still with a guilty expression on your face.
“I’m so sorry.” You whisper out, shaking your head. “We could’ve- it’s my fault.”
“What? No.” He crosses the room and pulls you into a hug, one you definitely needed. “No, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”
After a moment, he pulls away, sucking in a breath. “Now let’s get the hell out of here because this place is giving me the creeps.”
You nodded to his words, shivering as you observed the room you stood in. It looked like a master bedroom, possibly decorated for a couple to reside in. Everything was either covered in dust or cobwebs, a pang of sadness hitting your chest.
You knew the rumours of this place; a man going crazy and killing his entire family, their ghosts now haunting the place ready to collect more victims. But right now, you didn’t feel haunted.
A family had died here, the home clearly decorated with care and love from the people who never got a chance to live in it. And it has just been left like this, to wither and rot away.
Steve poked his head out of the door and listened out, making sure you weren’t just walking into a trap. He did the same as he leaned over the banister, clocking the wide open front door, now adorned in malicious claw marks.
“Fastest route?” He asks as you join him at the back of the house, squinting into the horizon.
There were only two options; along the road and out in the open, or through the woods with little to no light. You tried to think back to when you originally thought of the plan, retracing your steps.
“I’m thinking, uh…” Your voice suddenly cuts off and you turn to stare at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. Steve frowns. “Do I remember you calling me sweetheart earlier?”
Heat rushes to Steve’s cheeks. “What? No. That would be weird. I don’t have a pet name for you. Or any name, actually. Other than your actual name. Maybe ‘asshole’. Not- not sweetheart- right, we’re cutting through the woods this way.”
He marches off before he becomes any more of a mess than he already is, hearing your laughter as it trails behind him.
“So… where the hell is this mysterious gate maker gonna be?”
You were both stood in the parking lot of Motel 6, eyes scanning each room as if a source of light would illuminate the monster you were hunting. If your theory was right, and it was all originating from here… how long has it been right under your noses?
“Maybe it’s like the gates.” You offer, shrugging. “What did Dustin say? In the heart, or something. The middle.”
“I hope not.” Steve states and you turn to where he was suggesting.
The heart of the hotel wouldn’t be one of the rooms, nor the office. And you had a suspicion Steve had thought correctly.
The basement.
Staring down at those two daunting metal doors, you feel your skin prickle. You take a glance over your shoulder, frowning.
In all three weeks you’ve been down here, you’ve never encountered a single monster at the motel. It had been a last minute resort for safety, ensuring you weren’t followed, picking room 303 as if it mattered. You were pretty good at sneaking around the place, but you never realised how truly odd it was that no monster ever followed you.
Maybe that answer was waiting for you behind those basement doors.
“Wait,” Steve gently places a hand on your waist as you move towards it, staring down with brown eyes of deep concern. “Are we sure we really wanna do this?”
“There isn’t another choice.” You say, yet you were still hesitant as you walked up to the doors, forcing each step you took.
No locks, no obstacles. Just a pair of metallic blocks on hinges. That felt worse somehow.
“If I had a nickel for every time I had to go down into a cellar to look for a monster…” Steve sighs to himself, catching your curious look. “Uh, I’d only have, like, two. But still. That’s two more than I should have.”
You can only nod in agreement, your breath caught in your throat.
Are we sure we really wanna do this?
The unsatisfying creak of metal echoes across the parking lot, Steve letting out a low whistle as he stares down into darkness.
“I’m sure this won’t be creepy at all.” He comments, taking the first step down before you had the chance. You’ve noticed that about him, always the first to enter an unknown room. A protector.
Light bleeds through a small window on the other side of the cellar. There was more space than you were expecting, but the strangest part was the fact there was nothing in here. Like it had never been used to store anything.
“It’s empty.” You announce, stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room.
“Maybe the landlord kicked it out.” Steve shrugs, silently relieved. He catches your fallen expression and places a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll find another way.”
And then the basement doors swing shut, the sound rattling through the dark cellar at an alarming pitch.
“Shit!”
Steve drops his bat and rushes back up the steps to push against the metal doors. Nothing. He drives his shoulder into it. It doesn’t budge.
“How is it locked?!” He grunts, giving it one last try before backing away, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any lock on it!”
Your stomach drops.
You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.
The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.
Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.
It didn’t budge.
You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.
“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”
“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.
It was all happening again.
You had just walked into another trap.
“It’s here.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Steve is on high alert, frantically looking around the basement. But it’s still empty.
“Nothing is here, Y/n.” He frowns.
“Not on this side.” You gasp when something suddenly echoes in your ear. You look at Steve, startled, but he doesn’t share the same expression.
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that?”
“Hear what?”
You start moving around, trying to find a spot to make the incomprehensible whispers clearer. Steve’s heart is pounding louder.
“It’s that voice again.” You mutter to yourself.
“Voice? Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Steve manages to catch you for a split second, and you meet his eyes. His face drops.
The veins were creeping up your face, laying just beneath your eyes. He places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up.
“Y/n, you don’t look so good.”
“It has to be here.” You shake your head out of his hold, stepping back. “The map- it has to be here!”
And then you hear it again, the voice. Except, this time, it’s so much clearer.
“Tell her”
You suddenly stop, letting out a gasp and Steve’s anxiety is sky-rocketing. You were both trapped inside this basement with something he couldn’t see.
He tries the doors again, thumping his fist against it like it would dislodge something. Nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he clocks the window. Maybe…
Steve sprints over, dropping the bag off his shoulder and onto the floor beside him as he fumbles around for some kind of latch. Something rattles and he smiles. Bingo.
“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”
He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.
“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body.
That same familiar feeling starts twisting in his gut, the same he always had when something is really really wrong. He never ignored it, never wanted to, because it was always right. But he didn’t want to believe it this time.
He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.
Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.
“Y/n?”
You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.
“No…”
He lost you.
The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.
Lips he had once kissed.
Lips he would never kiss again.
“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”
You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore.
His eyes slowly drift to his bat, making him clench his jaw. It was closer to you than it was to him. He wouldn’t be able to reach it in time.
But he knew he wasn’t completely defenceless. He just wasn’t sure if he had the strength to use it.
You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.
Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.
Click.
Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement.
With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.
“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”
Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.
It was your idea to take a pistol from the cabin, knowing you couldn’t use it unless it was in moments of emergency, afraid the rippling sound of the bullet would alert every monster in the town. You both swore you’d never have to use it.
And here he was, pointing it directly at your head.
“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”
“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.
“You need to listen-”
“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”
“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”
“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”
He knew this was coming. You knew this was coming. You’ve been trying to warn him for weeks now, pleading to him. And he never listened. He never wanted to.
Three weeks ago, Steve would have shot you in that school hallway if you had turned after the bite, the memory bitter but his heart still intact.
Three weeks later, Steve would rather shoot himself then live with the memory of putting a bullet between the eyes of the girl he was in love with.
It can’t end like this. It can’t.
“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”
He should have known hope was never his friend.
A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.
Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals.
Like a demogorgon.
It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.
You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.
Steve’s eyes shut…
… and he pulls the trigger.
“STEVE!”
Your throat was sore from relentless screaming, sobbing with your entire chest.
Steve had rushed over to the window just after you heard that voice. You had turned your back on him, distracted by what you thought was a shadow hiding in the walls.
You heard him call your name. But when you turned around…
His eyes were rolled back, stood deathly still.
“Steve! Wake up!” You keep trying to shake him out of his trance, watching as a trail of red bleeds from his nose. “No! No, wake up! Steve!”
More and more whispers echo around you, building up until all you heard were the same repeated words.
“What do you want?!” You scream into the dark, cheeks stained with relentless tears. Steve was dying, and you couldn’t do anything about it.
In a desperate attempt for help, you crouch down by the window and start rifling through his bag, batting the gun to the side to grab the radio.
“Hello?! Is anyone there?! Please!!”
You cry out in frustration when all that responds is the piercing static.
“That won’t help you.”
The radio slips from your hand in shock, clattering against the concrete as your wide eyes fixate on the image in the corner.
Something was forming from the shadows, pulling together pieces of the dark like it was dust. Your body floods with ice. The basement had never been dark. You were just surrounded by the same black dust that haunted every single nightmare.
Your shaking hands swipe the bat from the ground and grip it tight, shielding Steve’s body with your own. You hear his breaths become shallower.
“You were never meant to find me.” It spoke in a dark voice, fading in and out like a weak connection.
A gasp slips from your mouth when the particles build its final form. A silhouette of a man, featureless yet distinctive. Of all the creations you had envisioned, you didn’t expect the monster to be so… human.
A man.
“What do you want?!” You yell at it, raising the bat like it would scare it away.
“I tried time and time again to get you to understand.” He spoke, drifting closer to you. “I gave you the future. Visions. A simple task.”
Something like a sob escapes Steve’s lips and you whip your head to him, feeling completely and utterly helpless. You weren’t going to defeat the monster like you said you would. And now you were going to watch him die, knowing you were the only reason he was down here with you.
“It was the only way to make sure you listened.”
You turn back to the monster, a scowl twisting onto your face.
“Let him go.” You warn, but you knew your threat was meaningless.
“You have no power here.” He states, and you could almost feel the shadow smiling at you with malicious intent. “I make the rules.”
Goosebumps return to their path along your skin, trailing up your arms and prickling at your neck, making you shiver.
“I will let him go… Once you carry out one important task.” He nods, closer once again. You shift your body protectively in front of Steve, holding your breath.
“What…” You blink away tears, feeling suffocated by his presence.
You understood why the other monsters were so afraid of the dark.
Your arms didn’t feel attached to your body when they suddenly start to lower themselves, a shadowed hand reaching for your face.
“Bring me the girl.”
You frown, shaking your head. Girl?
As if he heard your thoughts, he leans close to you, speaking one word.
“Eleven.”
“El?” You gasp, and he steps away from you, observing. “Why- what do you want with her?”
“Bring her to me, and I will let him go.” The figure doesn’t answer your question, tilting its head. “Once you leave this place, you’ll find her, and you’ll bring her to me. That is all I want.”
“And if I don’t?” You raise your chin, regaining the feeling in your arms.
He slowly raises his hand, pointing it to the boy behind you. At first, nothing happened. And then you watch in despair as Steve’s body starts to slowly lift from the ground, a strained yell of pain.
“Stop!” You beg, and the shadow obeys, Steve’s feet touching the ground.
One little action and it was so simple it was terrifying. If you don’t bring El to him, he’ll kill Steve.
This monster knew you. It had been following you around since the dust you encountered, observing the things that made you tick, the things you loved, hated, needed. He knew exactly what would make you listen to him.
He was the Voice that had been haunting you for weeks.
You look back at Steve, almost crying out when you notice he’s lost more blood in the time you’ve taken to decide. You couldn’t do that to El.
But you also couldn’t watch Steve die.
“Fine.” You sob, nodding. “Just let him go.”
“You’ll know where to find me”
And then the shadow is thrown back into the darkness, hitting a wall and sinking back into it, dispersing the dust in scattered patterns on the surface.
Steve gasps behind you, and you spin around to catch him as he stumbles forward.
“Steve!” You cry in relief, wrapping your arms around him as he struggles to catch his breath.
“Y/n?” He sounds surprised, almost sad, observing every little detail of you as if he couldn’t decide if you were real. “Wait, you’re… what happened?”
“I-”
You try to reply when a loud hum starts building behind you, your attention needed elsewhere.
The middle of the wall starts to burn away, splitting apart and blackening at the edges. The humming only became louder, a dark red hue casting your shadows.
The Voice was creating a gate. For you. To pawn your sister’s life for Steve’s. Once you stepped through it, you’d be signing a death warrant.
If you stepped through it.
“What the fuck is happening…” Steve blinks at the gate, aware of the tightened grip your hand had on his.
In his vision, he had shot you. He had committed the most unspeakable act he had time and time again refused. The worst part of it, was he thought it was real. He made that decision.
But it was all a lie, and you were here, holding his hand with a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.
“You have to go.” You say to him, your words hazy to his ears. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was back in reality, struggling to make sense of the walls around him. “Steve, listen to me. You have to go.”
“No.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “What about… what about you?”
A booming chorus of thumps against metal suddenly arose from the basement doors. Your stomach dropped.
The creatures weren’t afraid of the dark anymore.
When the gate had spread into a human-sized portal, you start pushing Steve towards it. His sneakers were just touching the edge before he realised what was happening.
“Hey, hey! No!” He stops, and you’re not strong enough to overpower him.
“Steve, you have to go! They’re gonna break through any minute!” You cry, watching the ever-growing dents in the metal above the staircase. “Please, you have to go!”
“I’m not leaving you, Y/n!”
“It’s already too late.” You sob, wiping away your tears. Tears that felt hot, burning against your skin.
The skin littered with black veins.
“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it 5 steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”
“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to rest on yours, nodding.
“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.
His eyes are still closed when you pull back, studying him one last time.
“Which is why I’m sorry.”
Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.
His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.
And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.
Steve scrambles to his feet, tugging at the dangling pieces of membrane to try and stop the process.
“Y/n!” He yells at you, the unwelcome fear striking his nerves when he hears a loud crash from the other side.
Judging by the look on your face, it was exactly what he thought it was.
“No! No! Y/n!”
The gate is getting smaller, but his screams are only getting louder, fingers desperately trying to pry it open like a set of doors. But it was useless.
He can just make out a rush of silhouettes, your retreating form.
And then he was clawing at a concrete wall, body shaking with the intensity of his tears.
“No, no, no, no!” He yells in rage, his fingers scraped and bloodied.
For the last three weeks, all he wanted was to be on the other side. And now he was here, without you, it felt worse than hell.
He barely heard the creak of metal doors open behind him, or even saw his shadow suddenly cast onto the space he lost you forever.
Steve didn’t notice anything until a voice calls out behind him, causing him to turn and squint against the beaming light.
“Steve?” Hopper frowns, squinting. “Steve.”
He rushes down those steps and drops the flashlight, both hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Hey, kid, you alright?” He asks, but Steve can barely speak. “Kid, look at me.”
Steve looked at him, a torn and broken version of the boy Hopper had seen last. He can feel Hopper’s hands tighten, a look of horror clouding his eyes.
“Where’s Y/n?”
Don’t forget me, you had said to him. A bittersweet promise of a memory.
Steve wasn’t ready to make you a memory.
“She’s still back there.” He finally said, swallowing the bitter lie that was about to coat his tongue. “We got separated.”
He lowered his eyes, unable to look at him, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at his chest. It was cruel, to lie to a father so desperate to get his daughter back. But he was afraid the truth would show you were like your father in more ways than one.
Steve needed to do this. No matter the consequences.
“She wants us to find her.” He finally says, nodding. “She wants us to bring her back.”
To be continued...
[A/N: GOH will return for yet another installment! I'm separating the story into parts so I can trick my stupid brain that only gives me writers block into thinking it's only a short story. I honestly plan for this to last forever. Or at least until I run out of ideas lmao.]
taglist:
@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .
@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .
@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady
#stranger things#stranger things x reader#fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x you#apocalypse au
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Abstained.
A/N: a repost from my old blog (@ayayabaroque) with a few tiny revisions, based on Kung 'Di Rin Lang Ikaw and Sa Ngalan Ng Pag-Ibig, both by December Avenue <3
Warnings: Sumeru Archon Quest spoilers, (Use of Scaramouche's real/given name) horrible English </3
If you aren’t the reason to love, would I stop my heart from getting hurt?
Kunikuzushi was beyond saving, he was impossible to love. His own creator abandoned him, his only friends left him, and being faced with his own immortality, he knows that you’ll leave him too.
You believe that though your flaws of mortality remain, you would do your best to stay by his side for eternity.
But as he drifts of into the company of another, a scholar by the name of Haypasia, you question if he is worth the trouble of loving.
“Scaramouche, it’s been only 2 days after your most recent visit to Haypasia, would it be possible to ask you of one thing?”
He merely scoffs, dismissing the idea of resting, if it meant showing affection to his most devoted follower.
It is a true wonder you haven’t left him yet, despite how inconsiderate he is towards your personal feelings.
If it isn’t you, then it won’t be at all, I won’t hope for us anymore.
The Doctor offered you revenge, wealth, and power, all you had to do was to betray Kunikuzushi.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to put him in a much more dire situation, thus you decline.
Yet do you truly feel this way about him?
“You never truly cared for me, Haypasia has been showing her dedication and devotion to me ever since she made contact with her new-found God.”
Scaramouche seethes, venom spilling from his mouth
“If I were you, I’d do exactly as Haypasia, in hopes to win over my companion again.”
I’m shivering and I can’t move, my heart can’t force myself to love you anymore.
It proves true that the snow-ridden land of Snezhnaya is not suit to your tastes,
but if it means staying as far away as humanly possible from Scaramouche, you’d go through whatever length to ensure his happiness.
For Haypasia's happiness too, yet not yours.
If the frostbite and cold doesn’t take you, then may the fake god abrew in Sumeru take your life.
You once believed that you would take any step toward a brighter future for you and Kunikuzushi, but it seems near impossible to achieve that, if he is in the glory of another.
Do you truly love him now?
If it won’t be us in the end, I’ll stop myself from loving someone else.
“I vow to stay by your side for eternity, let the damned wake, and let the souls who mourn, do so with agony. I will shield you from the world and all it’s cruelty.” —yet you, who makes such sacrilegious promises, only to succumb to sheer cold, and a slight pang of jealousy toward his “first” follower.
If you couldn’t love another, you might as well die with the vows you’ve made to each other.
That way, when he succeeds in entering godhood, he won’t remember you anymore.
But if I don’t remember who we were, who’ll cry in the morn for us?
Before setting foot into Sumeru, you haven’t even heard of Irminsul.
Much less known that Irminsul contains the memories of everyone, which holds little to no regard from Scaramouche, until he caught wind of what recently happened after his downfall.
“They have been pronounced dead. I believe you have no use for them anyway, since Haypasia is your one and only follower, am I correct?”
Il Dottore, 2nd of the Harbingers, announcing your death to the former Harbinger has his mouth agape and speechless.
He descended into madness, believing that it was all his fault, his status, his arrogance, and his vile nature that caused your death.
Shortly after his defeat, he was assigned to carry out a task for Lesser Lord Kusanali and the Traveler.
Enter Irminsul and attempt to find more information on the Descenders of Teyvat.
In his subconscious, his new-found information on the erasure of existence from the Traveler has his full attention. Perhaps, if he never met you, if he never tainted his self-image, you could live happily together with him in his next life. With the knowledge of Irminsul, he begins infiltrating its memories in hopes to have his soul reborn into your arms again.
I’m letting go, since I can’t move anymore. But would I stop your heart to yearn for another?
He succeeded in erasing The Balladeer’s existence of this world, but it was in vain. You couldn’t hang on to the tiny bit of life you have anymore, and withered away from his grasp. In all the years of his life, he has never experienced such grief in his life.
His mind, though hazy, tries to cling on to what little memory he has of you in the back of his mind. Kunikuzushi was impressed to say the least, you really did love him, even if he wouldn’t love you anymore. At the cost of the recognition as a God, the price would be his only source of hope and warmth.
“Until the end of our time,
until our hearts feel nothing anymore,
even if forever ends, I’ll wait for you in the name of love.”
-
A/N: i wish that i too, can be erased by irminsul. that sucks.
Stay safe, keep yourself hydrated, and continue on treading your path in life, with hopes of success. Believe in yourself, and stay positive. <3
-1, Yuan
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin angst#scaramouche x reader#scara x reader#scara angst#scaramouche angst#wanderer#scaramouche#wanderer x reader#wanderer angst#genshin imagines#bring back the cold season#ITS SO HOT HERE
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GhostGaz Week - sweet talk // missed connection
I'm so so so excited to have participated in @ghostgazweek this year! It's the first time I've done an event like this and it's brought me so much joy. To everyone who has read and commented on my work this week, thank you! I'm so excited to play with some of these concepts some more.
CW: Relationships between coworkers, mutual pining, front of house/back of house relations, Phillip Graves (derogatory), kissing, a taste of dirty talk
“Takin’ my ten,” Kyle tells his manager, pulling his phone from his pocket. Price nods, waving him off and assigning Kyle’s tables to Alex and Nova. He swings into the kitchen with an absent wave as he checks his messages and steps out back.
“’M no’ sayin’ ye have’ t’ declare yer love in front o’ the whole bloody team.”
Kyle perks up at the sound of Soap’s voice, but back-of-house gossip is going to have to wait while he tries to figure out what his off-again situationship is complaining about now. Or not - the meltdown in his messages is not worth dealing with. Just as he’s about the round the corner though, the growl of Simon’s voice freezes him.
“That’ll do, Soap.”
Kyle has to bite his lip to keep from gasping. Simon isn’t the head chef - that’s Farah - but he might as well be her right hand. He’s the glue of the weekend dinner rush. Level headed no matter what, rarely raises his voice above a raspy muttering, huge hands that Kyle has seen split an apple in half without a hint of visible effort. Whoever he dates is going to be envied by the entire front of house. Partially because he’s bloody gorgeous. But partly because he’s just the perfect man.
“Nae, yer gonna listen t’me,” Soap insists. “I promise, ‘e’s interested.”
“’E’s not,” Simon says. “Already tried flirtin’ wit’ ‘im. No dice.”
“Leavin’ a note wit’ yer phone number - in a pile of other notes with phone numbers - is no’ flirtin,” Soap says, and Kyle can imagine the despair on his face just from the tone of his voice. “Do you ken ‘ow many o’ those damn notes ‘e gets in a night?”
“Exactly. And he’s got a bird.”
“They broke up last week,” Soap hisses. “She’s shacking up with her ex.”
Kyle would snicker at how close he sounds to pulling his hair out but…
Kyle’s situationship ended last week. Because she moved in with her ex and Kyle doesn’t want to go through that roller coaster, again. And Kyle’s the flirt on shift, so he gets the most notes and phone numbers on receipts…
“’E’s got better prospects,” Simon says. Kyle hears the flick of a lighter. “Gorgeous, competent, charismatic? Kyle could have anyone.”
“And ‘e wants you, ye daft fucker,” Soap groans. “Steamin’ Jesus the two of ye. Just fuckin’ tell ‘im.”
“Tell you what,” Simon grumbles, muffled by his cigarette. “If he comes out here before my break’s done, I’ll tell ‘im.”
“Then ah’ll go in an- Oh you mother fucker! 30 seconds?”
Simon sounds amused when he says, “Tick tock.”
Kyle probably couldn’t ask for a better dramatic entrance, so he rounds the corner with a, “What’d I miss?”
Soap yelps and clutches at his chest like an old woman. Leaning against the wall, Simon looks about as surprised as he ever does, which means there’s a hunted look around his eyes, but he mostly looks tired and resigned. He settles into his thousand yard stare and takes a long drag.
“Gaz-bear!” Soap exclaims. He circles behind Kyle and shoves him forward. “Simon has something to tell you that is of a very personal nature. Do not let him distract you with talk about the kitchen! I love both of ye and ah’m tellin’ Price to fire both of ye if ye don’t talk!”
And then he’s slamming back into the kitchen, leaving Simon and Kyle alone in the alley.
He could play coy, but Kyle’s a bit giddy. “You like me, Simon?”
Simon grunts, contemplates his cigarette as he says, “Wondered ‘ow much of that you ‘eard. But don’t worry, I’ll keep professional.”
“God no.” Kyle can’t imagine anything wants less. “Tell me when you wrote me that note.”
“Dunno," Simon shrugs. "6 weeks after that shit with Graves?”
Two years ago, before Price took over, Phillip Graves had been the manager. He’d been a nightmare, harassing hostesses and firing anyone who dared to point out he was bad at his job. After the tenth straight day of a front of house person running into the kitchen to cry, pursued by Graves himself, Simon had had enough.
“I c’n make this a much more hostile working environment if tha’s what we’re aimin’ for.” The big beautiful bastard had shoved his knife a good quarter inch through a cutting board. The reverberation of the blade had rung through the painfully silent kitchen. All of the back of house looked to Farah for direction. She'd looked at Simon. Kyle, Nova, Alex, and the girl they’d been consoling by the fridges had all held their breath.
“I could fire you,” Phil spat.
“You won’t. You fuck with this kitchen, you’re losing your job,” Simon had answered. The fact that he had looked and sounded bored had scared and aroused Kyle in equal measure. “So ‘ere’s what’s going to happen - Keller and Garick are supervisors now. Pay them like it. You got a problem with front o’ house, you talk to them. Another girl comes runnin’ in here, then I‘m coming out there an’ you and I are ‘avin’ words.”
Graves had sputtered, looked around at everyone gathered, then spun on his heel and left.
Three months later, he’d gone missing. Two weeks after that, Price had arrived, greeting Farah and Simon like old friends and preparing to make the restaurant the best Kyle had ever worked at.
What did it say about Kyle that rumors that Simon had gotten rid of Graves for good only made him more attractive?
“That was more than a year ago,” Kyle says, sidling his way under Simon’s arm and leaning into him. Kyle’s not a short man, but Simon is tall and broad and warm under his work tee. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Simon takes another drag, and looks down at Kyle out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not exactly dating material. And you had a bird.”
“I would have dumped her in a heartbeat,” Kyle admits, startled when Simon barks a surprised laugh. “I would have! Fuck, I could have been sneaking out here with you for seven months? I’ll break up with her again right now.”
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon laughs, smashing his cigarette into the wall and dropping the butt into flower pot turned butt bin. He doesn’t move his arm from around Kyle’s shoulders.
“We’re dating now,” Kyle declares. “We’re boyfriends.”
“Movin’ kinda fast,” Simon points out.
“I’ve been in love with you for more than a year. Catch up,” Kyle dismisses. “My lease is up in four months, and I’m movin’ in with you. Now kiss me.”
Simon doesn’t hesitate. His lips are just the slightest bit rough. He smells like cigarettes and spices, and he turns to bracket Kyle against the wall. One large hand finds it’s way to the small of Kyle’s back to pull him in and press their hips together.
“Fuck,” Simon growls when Kyle moans against his mouth. “Pretty, pushy thing. Gonna be this demanding all the time, Gorgeous?”
“I have a lot of time to make up for,” Kyle groans, nibbling kisses along his jaw. “You should let me blow you.”
“Oh, should I?” Simon’s rumbling laugh sends shivers down his spine. “Should let Farah and Price catch you choking on my cock?”
Well, if Kyle was half-hard before, he’s rock hard now. “God, yeah, let me.”
“Not yet,” Simon growls, and that yet sends sparks flying through Kyle’s veins. His next kisses are just this side of too rough, tongue and teeth making Kyle’s lips so sensitive. Finally, he pulls himself away to pant into Kyle’s ear, “Let me take you on a date, huh, Gorgeous? Let me take you out, wine and dine you. Wanna know all about you, wanna talk about something other than work for more than five minutes. Then I’ll take you home and lay you out. Kiss you all over, suck that gorgeous cock of yours, yeah?"
“Jesus,” Kyle hisses. He tries to rock his hips into Simon’s, but strong hands hold him back. “Yeah, okay, yeah. Kiss me again.”
Simon laughs, dips down to give Kyle another closed-mouthed kiss. “Gotta head back in.”
“No,” Kyle pants. “Kiss me again.”
Simon growls into the next kiss and shifts to press his whole front into Kyle. When he pulls back, he presses a thumb against Kyle’s lips. “Be patient, Gorgeous. Gotta get through work tonight.”
He knows he’s pushing it, but, “…kiss me again.”
Simon’s lips are achingly gentle for a moment and then they’re gone as he takes a step back. “’M goin’ inside, now.”
“Thai food after work?” Kyle pants.
Simon chuckles and adjusts himself. “Yeah.” He swoops in for another brief peck. “It’s a date.”
#GhostGazWeek#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction#gaz appreciation nation#manic pixie dream ghost#ghostgaz#Gastropub 141#that's this AU's name until I think of something better#because I have a lot of thoughts about this one#simon is a romantic and he has been PiningTM but he's also ready to get nasty#kyle has an itemized list of ways to get nasty with simon (soap has seen it. it keeps him up at night)#he's gonna love being loved by simon
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Bunny’s Moral Crisis and Julian being Anti Judeo-Christian
I was positive I got the impression, during my first read of TSH, that Bunny was truly morally bothered by the farmer-killing. Then I started wondering, post-reading, if I was being too generous, and Bunny legit was just worried for his life and was angry that the group was keeping secrets from him (that second one is what Henry told Richard).
But I got to the part in my on-and-off listening to the audiobook where Julian tells Richard he’s wondering what’s going on with Bunny. Julian says Bunny keeps approaching him and asking to talk about morality (particularly sin and forgiveness). Julian says he’s getting concerned that Bunny may convert to Marion’s religion. He asks Richard what denomination she is, and Richard says he thinks she’s Presbyterian. Julian is disappointed and says the only Christian denomination he can gracefully accept losing a student to is Roman Catholic.
Now this scene is interesting to me for a couple reasons. Firstly, it does indicate there may be more going on with Bunny internally than the Greek class gives him credit for. If Bunny is trying to approach Julian privately to talk about ethical dilemmas, this shows some level of genuineness in his questions (Julian also believes it to be earnest questioning). But secondly, Julian’s comment about only finding the Roman rite to be a worthy foe is so, so interesting to me.
The scene shows that something more is going on with Bunny, but it also reveals that Julian hates Judaism and Christianity— making exceptions for people like Dante and Giotto. The thing that’s fascinating to me about this detail is that Julian’s statements show the central theme of the whole book: that beauty is worth something if it’s backed by things of substance (Georges Laforgue says this, and the same thing is said by Theo in The Goldfinch. This is a concept important to Tartt’s writing).
Julian has a basic respect for Catholics, because Catholicism traditionally also has emphasis on art, philosophy, and classical aesthetic beauty. And, perhaps most importantly, Roman Catholics have kept Latin as the language of the Church and Vatican. The medieval Catholic Church was perhaps the biggest patron and commissioner of artists, and from the Catholic Church came Notre Dame, Aquinas, Dante, etc. Here, Julian mentions that the Catholics make “worthy foes” for the pagans, and what he means is that there’s all this aesthetic beauty and classical study within the Catholic Church. But it’s key here that Julian hates other branches of Christianity. The scene emphasizes that the only thing he enjoys about Catholics is their specifically classical history.
The thing I like about this detail is that it is a really specific bit of characterization to show that Julian does not care about morality or the search for truth that’s at the heart of all religions and mythologies. He’s different from people like Aquinas because he does not see human art and language as a means to articulate and pay homage one’s moral beliefs. He sees art/language as the highest good in and of itself. Once you remove the classics aspects of Catholicism, Julian does not care. And we see this because of his apparent disdain for Protestants and Jews. This also reminds me of Bunny saying Henry thinks Jamaicans have no culture. Obviously, they do, but it’s not the particular kind of culture and expression Julian and Henry find legitimate.
I guess I like how Donna Tartt understands her own theme and can show how it’s applicable so naturally just in the way her characters talk. We get a lot of hints about how closed-minded and shallow Julian actually is before we get to the end of the book where it’s confirmed.
#donna tartt#the secret history#tsh#bunny corcoran#julian morrow#the secret history analysis#honestly Henry and Julian would like Byzantine Catholics#holy moly have you been in a Byzantine church?#stunning
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-Differences-
We’re not too different
A fanfic mildly inspired by kamiverse’s tfl
(half cannon universe half modern au)
Themes - Romance, angst, smut, betrayal
Pairings - Gorou×reader, Lyney×reader, Neuvillette×reader, Zhongli×reader, Albedo×reader, Scaramouche×reader, Tartaglia×reader
Warnings- virgin!reader, Lyney is kinda a slut?-college!Lyney, college!Lynette, college!reader, collage!furina
Smut will be next chapter I promise<3
Opposites attract right?
We’re really different. Lyney and I have been friends since FOREVER, he was an orphan who was adopted and raised by this figure he calls “father” from what I’ve heard father is a fatui harbinger who was apparently a fellow Fontainian
We met because I saw Lyney on the street one day doing some fun magic tricks. He wasn't very well dressed so I’d thought that I would talk to him, maybe even help him out if he needed food as my family was well off enough to donate to charity.
Lyney seemed harsh at first glance, it turns out that day his twin sister Lynette got taken away by aristocrats. So that day I made a promise to be by his side forever and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him or his sister ever again!
I lost contract with Lyney after that and during that time he got adopted by “father” and my mom lost her high paying job for a “undisclosed” reason
Now we’re both in our early 20s and in college, all three of us are studying at “La institution de fontaine éducationnel” or IFÉ. Lyney is studying acting as he’s trying to perform at “la opera epiclese” at some point while Lynette is studying engineering as she is hoping to help her brother cut costs by doing repairs herself.
Lyney has always been extroverted and quite charming so Lynette is always complaining to you about how her brother has another girlfriend or boyfriend which you always respond to with complaining about how you're always single.
One day however you’re complaining to Lyney himself about being single while he visits your dorm which leads to an interesting conversation about a way to potentially solve that…
“What? You’re still single with your looks?” Lyney asks while leaning on the wall“WAIT! Does that mean you’re a virgin?” he taunts with a big dumb smirk glued on his face
“W-well uhm- Y'know what? That’s a really weird and uhm, invasive? YEAH invasive question to ask a female friend” you manage to stutter out with as much confidence as possible in this situation
Lyney laughs and offers you a bet, “If you end up sleeping with 5 men by the end of the summer I’ll offer you 200k, but the catch is that you aren’t allowed to fall in love with them. You have to sleep with 5 men, no strings attached” you stare at him with confusion while wondering how serious he is but then Lyney adds with a smile “Y’know what for every man after the 5th I’ll add another 50k”
Lyney extends his hand forward for a handshake “deal?” you think for a moment wondering if this is really worth it. You don’t have enough money to finish your course and with 200K+ you’ll have enough to finish your last 2 years of university, maybe even enough to spoil yourself a bit with new clothing and makeup.
The only problem was the time frame, you’ll only have 4 months for 5 guys? Surely I can’t do that right? I haven’t slept with a single guy for what? 20 something years? How can I sleep with 5 in such a short timeframe?
After a lot of consideration you decide to take up his offer so you reach out your hand, but suddenly in a random act of courage or stupidity you add “I’ll accept your offer but on one condition, you’ll be the first guy” Lyney looks taken aback? Confused? Uncertain? No idea, but what you can notice is the light reddining of his cheeks.
“What? Are you repulsed by the idea Lyney? How rude” you questioned in a jokey tone
Lyney’s eyes widened in shock “No no, not AT ALL. I was just surprised you asked in such a uncharacteristically bold manner” he exclaims in mild panic
“So when do you want this to happen?” he asks awkwardly
“Oh uhm.. Sooner the better I think but probably not tonight? You respond while fiddling your thumbs “Maybe in a few days? Y’know what I’ll message you!” you decide
After Lyney quickly and awkwardly leaves you message your best friend and roomie, Furina
10:48PM
-reader-: GIRLY YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED
-Furina-: Did your lonely ass finally get a boyfriend?
-reader-: BETTER THAN THAT
-Furina-: WHAT? REALLY? DID YOU WIN THE LOTTERY?
-reader-: Ok just combine the last two ideas
-Furina-: YOUR ASS GOT A SUGAR DADDY??? HOW OLD???
-reader-: TF NO?
-Furina-: I give up ;-;
-reader-: LYNEY SAID HE’LL GIVE ME 200K TO SLEEP WITH 5 MEN BEFORE THE SUMMER
-Furina-: WHAT?? ARE YOU GONNA DO IT???
-reader-: YEAH PROBABLY AND ON TOP OF THAT HE SAID HE’LL BE THE FIRST ONE :333
-Furina-: NO WAYYYYY SERIOUSLY? HE’S ACTUALLY SO FINE? I’M JEALOUS GIRL-
-reader-: You have a boyfriend who’s house you’re at right. now. HOW ARE YOU JEALOUS?
-Furina-: Uhm we don’t talk about thatttt, ANYWAYS GTG LOVE YOU POOKIE GL
-reader-: BYEEEEE<3333
You put down your phone for the night and decide to get ready for bed but while your trying to sleep all you can think of is what transpired today
When you wake up it’s already kind of late but your roommate isn’t back yet so you text her
11:17AM
-reader-: Hey wanna meet up at that cafe down the street later? Maybe at 12:30 if that’s good with you?
11:52
-Furina-: GIRL- I'M SO SORRY I SLEPT IN
-Furina-: 12:30 works BUT ALSO I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU WHEN WE GET THERE
-reader-: OMG OK SEE YOU >:3
A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG >W< I really wanted to get the pacing right for this fic cause I feel like I rush things
#fanfic#genshin smut#diffrences#gorou#gorou smut#lyney#lyney smut#tartaglia#tartaglia smut#zhongli#zhongli smut#neuvillette smut#neuvillette#albedo#albedo smut#scaramouche smut#scaramouche
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dating max fox - hcs
ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader
warnings: none
notes: look at her she's so cute!!!!
✦ sleeps in. she'd sleep until mid-afternoon if you let her. and max is hard to wake up since she's so stubborn
✧ on days where you two don't have to do much, it's easiest to let her sleep on your chest while you scroll on your phone
✧ when max wakes up, she likes to keep cuddling with you and just watch what you're doing on your phone
✧ she's a big fan of TikTok time, which is where you scroll on your FYP and you both crack jokes and watch together. max is singlehandedly ruining your FYP algorithm by liking the most random stuff
✧ e.g. she watches parenting tips all the way through, making TikTok think you wanna see more. when you tease her about it, max says it's "for our future" and either holds your hand or kisses your cheek
✧ she says sleeping next to you is the most comfortable and safe she's ever felt <3
✧ adores cuddles. can't get enough of them. max always curls up next to you and you can tell if it was a tough day if she doesn't want to talk much
✦ tells you all about her siblings
✧ max doesn't like to show it and would never admit it to them, but she's so proud watching frankie and duke became people. she tells you about their latest achievements, or the rants about the last fight they had
✧ if a fight with her mom/siblings was particularly nasty, max comes to you for comfort. max worries about if she's gone too far, and you reassure her that they know she cares
✧ speaking of her family bond, it was crucial to max that you fit in with everyone. and of course, you were welcomed with open arms and immediate inside jokes
✧ max called them all embarrassing (she loved it)
✦ max isn't afraid to express her feelings, and that can lead to lashing out if she feels scared or angry
✧ she says things more harshly than she means to, which was hard for you at the start when you didn't know how much of a softie she is
✧ it didn't take long for max to realise she was messing things up. and she really liked you. so she decided to be vulnerable
✧ her hopes, fears, dreams, she shared them all. max couldn't bear you thinking that she didn't care when really the reason why she lashed out was because she cared so much.
✧ she's scared of losing you. and sometimes max worries that she's too much, or she's too freaked out about everything, so she closes herself off
✧ like, maybe you'll like her more if she deals with her shit alone and only has good times with you
✧ when you assure her that you want every part of her, the good and the bad, max completely breaks down
✧ you were surprised by how insecure your girl really is. under that confident persona, in some ways max is still that little kid that was rattled by her parents' divorce
✧ does love actually exist? can it last? was it her fault?
✧ not to mention all of max's past break-ups and short-term relationships
✧ she admitted that before you, max used to wonder if she was meant to go it alone forever. that she'd be too intense for anyone to stick around if they weren't forced to - like her family or her best friend, paisley
✧ you need to reassure her. a lot. but it's so worth it when max opens up. she wouldn't agree with you, but you think she's the best at love that you've ever seen
✧ despite her tough exterior, max is fiercely loyal. she'll stand by your side through thick and thin. she's got unwavering support and all the encouragement you need, even if that's with a lot of swearing and colourful imagery
✦ max's creative flair means all the romance impromptu poetry readings
✧ a surprise song about you, with max serenading you on her guitar. a pottery class where you make matching plates. homemade dinners under the stars (yes, it's a little burnt but she tried her hardest)
✧ she just likes creating shared memories with you, even if something ends up going haywire
✧ max also has this rebellious streak and thirst for adventure. your dates are spontaneous and never the same as the last. she'll surprise you by impulsively taking you on a road trip and you'll have the time of your life
✦ the love language(s) that max finds easiest to express is physical touch and quality time
✧ with max being the oldest, she has the most memories of life when her parents were still together. she knows how important time together is, because her dad not being around was the beginning of the end
✧ which is why max loves being with you in comfortable silence. she adores having someone she can just be chill with, someone who doesn't judge, and likes her the way she is
✧ max likes taking care of you when you're sick. she'll make soup and some hot tea, and even ask sam for some home remedy, bringing that all up to you on a tray
✧ then, she'll sit with you and tell you about her day. even if you're sweating out a fever, max doesn't care. she'll play with your hair and dab your forehead with a towel
✦ the love language that max loves to receive is words of affirmation
✧ that's actually why she fell for you in the first place - you gave her a genuine compliment when you first met and max couldn't stop thinking about it
✧ you give her compliments on things that she didn't know others would notice or admire about her. every one makes her blush and playfully shove you away
✧ max tells you that you've made her a better person <3
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I'm seeing lots of speculation in the wake of the unwanted guest about whether absorbing Loveday's soul is what made Cytherea snap and sure, I see the theory, but personally as a cancer survivor I have never ever questioned why Cytherea snapped
Cancer is an existentially terrifying, often debilitatingly painful and/or exhausting illness, that, if not cured, takes over your body bit by bit, gets into the highly essential bits which increases the suffering and/or fundamentally changes you as a person, makes you extremely vulnerable and dependent on others, and almost inevitably kills you unless you get it when you're old enough and die of old age first instead. Its treatment is often just as painful and exhausting as the illness, or even more so, and doesn't always work. When you have cancer, there are two ways out: being cured (preferable) or, when that is not an option, deciding for yourself when you have reached the point where the suffering is so bad and the outlook so non existent that you would rather die now rather than later after even more and worse suffering.
And John took both of those options away from Cytherea and from her entire line of descendants. When he had the option to cure them all all along. Idk about y'all but the revelation in Nona that John could cure cancer was the number one earth shattering realisation for me. He did this to her, and to the entire Seventh House, on purpose.
This is the first giant betrayal to me. For generation after generation, for TEN THOUSAND YEARS, this man let the heirs of the Seventh House be sick for functionally their entire lives, likely starting in childhood, go through an incalculable amount of painful and exhausting experimental treatments bc he didn't even bring modern medicine into his New Order, and die in their twenties or thirties at best, when he could have STOPPED THIS ALL ALONG with little more effort than snapping his fingers.
Second big betrayal is towards Cytherea herself, but basically the same point : he could have cured her at any time. Before she became Lyctor, possibly, since we're not sure how static Lyctor bodies are, but Mercy's powers, Harrow's lobotomy and Ianthe's arm suggest that it would have been an option afterwards too. And he didn't. He let her have cancer for TEN THOUSAND years without curing her. And he calls himself her friend. Absolutely fuck that bastard.
Third big betrayal is the same betrayal that he inflicts on all the other Lyctors, but imo worse bc of Cytherea's illness. It seems from the books that Lyctors are, if obv not functionally immortal, at least Very Difficult to kill. Consequently, John demands Cytherea's loyalty not only in the form of killing the person she loves the most in the world, but in the very same act, in the form of cutting off the One escape route she has left out of the suffering he's purposefully keeping her in. In short, he takes the one person away from her who she perhaps doesn't resent depending on and, in the same act, makes it A Lot more difficult for her to choose euthanasia. (There's meta in this about the deeply realistic and also Terrifying ableism of John "admits openly that he'll pay any price so the people he loves can't leave him" making his sick friend dependent on him by keeping her sick, taking away her (arguable) main caretaker and cutting her off from the option of leaving him by dying.)
And at the same time that the other Lyctors realise John's betrayal re: their cavaliers, Cytherea potentially realises ALL OF THIS. TEN THOUSAND years of suffering, of seeing her House suffer, on top of losing the person she cares about the most, and ALL OF IT was avoidable, and not just avoidable but EASY TO AVOID? Is it any wonder she went on a rampage to bring down John and everything he cared about and had worked towards, and that she didn't care about dying at the end (or, perhaps, was even counting on that outcome)? I had cancer (as an aware adult) for a year in the best imaginable circumstances and am still fucked up about almost a decade later. After TEN THOUSAND YEARS and learning there had been another option all along, I'd have done WAY WORSE than Cytherea. I really don't think she needed to absorb anyone's soul to get there. It is, in my opinion, a deeply understandable and realistic reaction.
#Like yeah I don't think she should have killed innocents but TEN THOUSAND YEARS#No wonder the end is worth the means to her#the locked tomb#cytherea loveday#cytherea the first#TLT spoilers#Apparently I'm making a habit of writing entire essays about OG Lyctors I relate to on some form#Don't come at me about Magical Cures. It's cancer. Cancer needs a magical cure. I've had it I would know.#Long post#Cancer cw
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So for no reason at all I'm thinking about this:
Sora was not chosen by a Keyblade Master to be a Keyblade wielder, but he becomes a Keyblade wielder before anyone else in the Destiny Trio (yes, I know, Riku's Keyblade--the Kingdom Key--had shown up on the Destiny Islands for Riku, but when Riku chose darkness over light, it opted to go with Sora instead: and there it would ultimately stay and Riku would get a different Keyblade later).
Riku was chosen by a Master to be a Keyblade wielder, and he's the third of the Destiny Trio to get his Keyblade, though still treated so much better than Kairi is, and truly gets to use his Keyblade before her (in having big adventures where he gets to use it, and whatnot): as I'm sure no one is really counting the three Heartless that Kairi killed with hers in KHII.
Kairi was accidentally chosen to be a wielder by a Keyblade Master (Aqua triggered the Keyblade Inheritance Ceremony with her by accident, that is), and this actually happens before the scene where Terra chooses Riku. But it's an accidental thing, which definitely stings a bit. And Kairi is the second of the Destiny Trio to get her Keyblade... though in a lot of ways, you wouldn't guess that.
Edit: I'm wrong. Riku gets his Keyblade second, and Kairi gets hers third, as Riku has his Keyblade when he protects Kairi and Naminé from Saïx. I, and another user on her at what point, just got confused because of Riku (if you talk to him as Sora when you beat Luxord) mentioning how he doesn't think Sora needs the power of darkness or his Soul Eater yet, which almost sounds like he still has Soul Eater at the time, when he doesn't. What a weird line just overall. -shrugs-
#and yes: before someone says it i know terra. technically. was not a master when he did the keyblade inheritance ceremony with riku#as he had not passed his mark of mastery exam (that was rigged anyway) and thus hadn't been given the title#but he was at master level--according to nomura--which is how he was still able to do this#i mean the aqua and kairi scene hurts less with how aqua realized that kairi was someone worth protecting (she was realizing she was a#princess of heart). and she also cast that magical spell on her necklace because of it: so that whenever she was in trouble the light withi#her would lead her to someone else in order to keep her safe. so maybe all of that is part of the reason the keyblade inheritance ceremony#kicked in and NOT just because aqua and kairi were both touching aqua's keyblade at the same time. (this is the only way i can live with#this. and i honestly think it makes MORE sense this way). though you do still have to wonder 'why?' why is kairi always shafted in every#single way possible?#maybe they were going for some 'all three of the destiny trio has a different tie with the keyblade and how they were chosen' thing. but as#always kairi's the one who gets the short end of the stick. really#the only thing i even remotely like about it is that it means that both sora and kairi can bond over actually BOTH of them weren't chosen b#a master then
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The three firebrands (and guests)- Incorrect Quotes Part 22
Avar, in the middle of the night: Do you think Lava tastes spicy
Stellan: avar. please
Avar: I’m just saying, I would like to try it
Stellan: Please don't eat Lava, Ave
Elzar: You know what, try eating it and let us know how it tastes
Elzar: It’s made of rocks, so it would probably taste dusty and bland, but maybe it’s sweet and spicy and people just say it’s dangerous so that others don’t eat it too
Avar: See Stell, El understands me
Avar: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.
Elzar: Was that place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?
Stellan: WHY. Why did you give Avar a KNIFE?!
Elzar: I’m sorry. She said she felt unsafe.
Stellan: Now I feel unsafe!
Elzar: I’m sorry.
Elzar: ... would you like a knife?
Some bad guy, negotiating with Stellan: We have Avar Kriss. Give us ten thousand credits and she will be returned to you no more harmed than she already is
Avar: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand credits?
Stellan:
Avar: MAKE IT ONE MILLION–
Stellan: AVAR STOP
#listen I have to much fun with sleep deprived Avar and her chaotic thoughts#Elzar straight up supports all the garbage she says tho#and stellan just wants to sleep#i do Wonder if lava tastes good tho#i mean#we don’t really know#i am also back with more of Avar loving food more than her boys#Elzar always has four knifes with him#just for fun#who knows you might need em some day#Stellan doesn’t like it tho#also none of them have a high self esteem#however Avar knows she’s worth more than ten thousand credits okay#and stellan knows that they don’t have enough money#they ended up just barging in there#Avar made a im sorry cake#cuz stellan was mad#Elzar helped#he loves eating the raw dough that’s left#to be fair who doesn’t#anyways more incorrect quotes#avar kriss#elzar mann#stellan gios#the high republic
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❛ UNPROFESSIONALISM ! ❜
⟡ content warnings. explicit content. foul language. ceo!satoru. secretary!reader. mentioned past flings. fondlīng. fīngerīng. afab!reader. p in v. unprotected. brēēding. squīrtīng. gojo satoru is his own damn warning. 4.9k.
⟡ serena's note. oh if y’all knew the lengths i went thru just to post this damn fic. . .
“ugh, this is such a painnn!”
“the sooner you finish your paperwork, the sooner you’re off, sir.” you sigh, arms crossed over your chest. you’re used to your boss’ childish antics by now, having worked side by side with him for nearly a year. you check the time on your watch, “work ended about half an hour ago— you might want to hurry up.”
“but y/n!” he drags out your name, voice all whiny and pitched in a telltale manner. he pushes himself off away from his desk, chair rolling back from the impact as he lolls his head back. “this shit is sooo lame. didn’t i hire nanamin to take care of the boring stuff? how come he isn’t here handling this god forsaken load of terrorizing agony?!”
you click your tongue, clutching tighter at the clipboard in your hold. you wonder if he’d been dropped on the head as a child, his lack of self-awareness so painful it makes you reconsider if the check at the end of the week is ever worth it. “he’s scheduled the week off to keep his wife and newborn in check. he signed off about a month ago.”
he snaps his head up so quickly, you’re positive he’s gotten whiplash. gojo blinks at you through big blue eyes and snowy lashes, a dumbfounded look on his face. he lifts his index to scratch at the corner of his lips, and cocks his head to the side, “ahh. . . ‘s that right? wait— nanamin’s a dad?!”
you feel the vein in your head inevitably tick.
“sir,” you let out an exhausted sigh, completely baffled by his ineptitude. he must purposely choose to do this to you, there’s simply no other explanation. “we attended his wife’s baby shower a few months ago—the one you mistook for a bachelor party and had me escorting the escorts back home.” you lift your pointer finger, brows cinched as the memory burns into your mind. he tilts his head to the side, affirming the idea of his cluelessness even more.
you raised a second finger, “we showed up to the hospital to congratulate them on their baby— and you got them that ridiculous cutout board of yourself that sings when you press on the—”
“the button on my dick, yeah!” gojo cackles as if it’s the funniest story ever, as if you hadn’t need to dump a bucket of water on the cutout figure to get it to shut up before he could get his company sued for emotional distress.
you huff, the stressful reminder of that unfortunate day having you anxiously tugging at the hem of your skirt, “yep. that’s the one.” between the baby’s obnoxious cries and exaggerated mecha-gojo moans, you’d rather not think about that encounter.
“and this whole time i figured she was his sister,” gojo snorts, wiping a faux tear from the corner of his eye. he sighs when his laughter dies down, and pulls him chair back into his desk. “man, his wife’s a babe. guess that explains why she looked at me all crazy when i called her fine the other day.”
“you sure that’s the only reason?” you mutter under your breath, the insult flowing off your tongue so naturally that you couldn’t help stopping it, even if you wanted to. that man was all kinds of deranged, his ego and head much bigger than it needed to be.
“ouch, that’s mean, doll.” gojo pouts, clutching at the material of his blazer above his heart. the back of his free hand lands on his forehead as he dramatically leans back into his seat. his eyelids shut tightly, “you’re wounding me. ‘m too young to die. i can’t go on like this— tell my mother i loved her. sign off my will for me, wouldya? make sure to terrorize nanamin some more. oh, and empty out all my search histories. wouldn’t wanna ruin my reputation. and get rid of my porn magazines beneath my bed. ‘ve got some pretty nasty stuff there. and check up on my kid every now and then. and—”
“alright, alright. i apologize.” you cut his rambling off before it spiralled into something far worse. there’s a full headache throbbing at your temple, your feet ache from your heels, and your stomach rumbles in hunger. you’re ready to go home now, but that won’t be possible unless your big man baby of a boss finishes up his task. “i’m sure you’ve a very suitable man. many would be grateful to have you. my apologies, sir.”
he peeks through an eye, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. his beaten-puppy look is quickly replaced by one you know far too well now— the look he gets after beating his rival company in terms of stock. the look he gets after successfully shitting on his higher ups. the look he gets after getting you to cum on his fingers after a long day— you’ve stroked his ego. “i’ve trained you well, princess. always flattering me, ohh, however did i get so lucky?”
whatever have you done to get so unlucky? “time’s ticking, sir. you can’t afford to pick up megumi late from practice again.”
“nanamin’s wife might be a babe, but you’re a gem, y’know?” your boss entirely ignores you, leaning his elbow onto the pile of work he’s now completely erased from his existence. he leans his cheek into his palm, fingertips tapping at the side of his head. “one helluva girl. i mean it— i really lucked out with ya.”
you cross your leg over the other, shifting your hips over the suede material of his couch. you recognize the sultry undertone to his voice, and your clear your throat, “is that so?”
gojo chuckles, flashing you all thirty two teeth, “i mean it’s not everyday you find a woman with your patience. god, you must be in love with me or something.”
you roll your eyes, despite the small smile that creeps up on your lips, “that’s certainly not why i stayed,” which wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not as if you haven’t inflated his ego enough today. “you may be a handful but your pockets sure are generous.”
“wouldn’t kill you to make a guy feel good about himself from time to time, ya know?” he fiddled the black pen between his fingers, twirling the object from knuckle to knuckle. he pauses when you don’t answer, noticing you noticing his finger movements. and so he proceeds with a smirk, “you’re always so tense all the time. . . tell me, when’s the last time you’ve been properly fucked?”
you nearly lose the grip on your clipboard at his audacity, the question throwing you off guard. though, you quickly keep composure— a fierce facade that’s always labelled you as the calm and collected kind. though, you’re doubtful it worked against your own boss.
“that’s an unprofessional question, sir.” you grit through teeth, nails scratching at the wooden back of your board. highly hypocritical of yourself, as you’re absolutely no better than he is— having already opened a window of no return that fateful night you accepted his invite to come inside his home.
“pretty sure we’re past unprofessionalism.” he pushes himself off of his desk, rising to his feet. your eyes trail his movements, from the index finger that hooks at his tie to loosen the knot, to the cock of his head to the side that has his hair bouncing, to the sound of expensive shoes clicking with every stride closer to you.
his presence can be oddly intimidating at times— you’ve noticed while working with him for a while. there’re moments like whenever he steps up on a podium in front of thousands of people, or when the elevator doors slide open and presents him to the building. despite his childish antics, he exudes an aura so enchanting that serves as reminder of that at the end of the day, he’s the boss.
you swallow, eyes following his lean figure until he stops right before you. it’s hard to read him in moments like these, when he’s so unlike himself (or maybe finally truly himself). his hands sit in the pockets of his slacks, legs parted enough to entrap your own legs between his, as he tilts his head forward. his irises darken behind tinted shades, bangs curtaining the raise of an eyebrow.
“unprofessional?” he repeats, and your eyes narrow at him, subconsciously gripping at your board tighter. it’s the only thing that you seem to have control over, since it clearly wouldn’t be this conversation. “you mean like that time i had you creamin’ all over my fingers in the back of my car? or unprofessional like that time you bent over my desk and came all over my face? or was it that night when i had to tie your hands together to keep you from runnin’ away?”
your gaze flickers away from his, the heat of embarrassment creeping from your neck all the way to your face. he wasn’t wrong— your relationship with him had passed morally ethical the moment you pulled him in closer to kiss you instead of pushing him away.
“we’re still at work.” you quip, the last bit of resolve tattering away the longer you feel his eyes on you. your roll your ankle nervously, thighs tightening against another.
“work ended half an hour ago sweetheart, remember?” he reminds you, voice as taunting as ever, and you sure as hell don’t need to see him to know he’s smirking. right side of his lips pulled with a moon crescent dimple on the side— he’s making fun of you. “forgettin’ already? can’t have my adorable secretary so overwhelmed that it’s meltin’ her brain. that should be my dick’s doing only, of course.”
you click your tongue, eyes casting back up to stare him dead in the eye. naturally, he’s already meeting your own, with the same damn smirk you’d predicted, “you have paperwork to finish, sir. better get on that quickly.”
“oh?” he laughs at your command, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rest at his hips. he runs his tongue against the top row of his teeth, and you hate the way your mind instantly travels back to days prior when you’d once had that same tongue working in and out of you.
he hums in faux thought, tapping his index against his chin. his lips fall into a pout before instantly stretching back to its default state, his infamous smile, “i suppose you’re right. come help me finish then, hmm? teamwork makes the dream work.”
you’re skeptical— you know him too well, but you’d rather divert the focus of attention from you to those papers. anything to prevent your mind from wandering off further into endless unprofessional possibilities. “lead the way, boss.”
he curtsies dramatically as you rise to your feet, stomping over to his desk. you notice he’s got shit done, and you’ll most likely be here for a minute. and so, you stand next to the chair he’d abandoned and pick up the pen, waiting for him to sit so you both could get started.
only you should’ve known you’d fallen right into his trap the minute you agreed to his ridiculous offer. you feel him pressed up behind you, lurking over your shoulder to study whatever you had going on. he’s unreasonably tall, frame so large it has you feeling frail in his presence, and his cologne so strong you feel it already clouding your judgement.
damn it all.
clicking your tongue, you tilt your head to the side to narrow your eyes, “well? are you not going to sit?”
gojo blinks at you, “how come? i enjoy the view here much better anyway.”
you roll your eyes, before turning back to his desk. he was a complete idiot if he thought you hadn’t already anticipated his next moves. the more your wrist flexes, mumbling the words you read on your sheets as you write them down, the more you felt him. you could feel the back of your thighs meeting the from of his, you could feel his bulge rubbing at your ass, you could feel his warm breath fanning at the slope of your neck.
damn it all.
“sales have risen to a—ahhn!” your pen falters in your grip, scribbling on the white sheet as it hits the desk. your eyelids shut close, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as a warm mouth kisses at that sensitive spot behind your ear. your palm lays flat against the surface of the table, side by side with gojo’s, body tensing as his mouth trails down lower.
“oh you bastard,” you mutter, shaky hand attempting to grab the pen in an unsteady hold. his chuckle rumbles deep from his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your back. you’re determined to stand your ground, despite the urge to push your hips back into him. he may have soft lips and an annoyingly hot voice, but you would not falter— no matter the moisture of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
you think you have it set in stone, the pen in your hold— albeit unsteady— despite his large hand creeping up your thigh. every trail of his touch leaves an electrifying feeling, and you’re sure he’s noticed your trembling knees if the way he subtly slid his leg in between yours to keep you steady said anything.
it’s when you’re ready to scribble out your mistake to replace it that he decides to plunge his canines to your jugular. the moan that erupts from you is squeaky, your hand clutching tightly at the pen as your back arches into his chest from the painful pleasure.
gojo nibbles and sucks at your skin, running his tongue over the throbbing area to soothe the pain, fingers trailing closer to your now aching core. you’re positive your skirt has now hiked up with how much your hips are pushing back into his, head lolled forward.
“aweee, what’s the matter sweetheart? ‘s too much for you already?” gojo coos, sultry voice sending chills from the shell of your ear down to your core, finally slipping his hand inside of your skirt. his fingertips brush at your clothed clit, the material of your thong shamefully damp in arousal. you huff, nails scratching at his desktop when his index and middle finger rub painfully slow circles at your clit. “but we’ve barely done anything? tsk, can’t afford slowing the company down because you’re too distracted to focus.”
your thighs and arms threaten to give out, body heating with lust and desire. you want to say you hate this, that this is against your typical work ethics, to tell him to fuck off and do the work himself. but the focus on your pussy really has you melting puddle, bottom lip tugged on to suppress any louder sounds to escape.
“y-you’re the worst.” you complain, though it fades into another moan when he pushes his thigh up in between your legs. you’re internally thankful, because had this gone any further, you’re certain you would’ve sunken to the floor.
“love you too, pretty girl.” he presses a kiss at your jaw, fingers pushing past your panties. fuck any resolve you’d held onto— you chuck the pen far away, planting both palms down as you allowed him to take control. every rub of his fingers at your clit had you dripping down his thigh, to where your hips shifted and rolled down his leg, dragging out that blissful heat in your gut.
“givin’ up already? y’didn’t put much of a fight this time, can’t say i’m a disappointed.” his free hand grips at your thigh and trails up to your hips, resting at your flesh to guide you down his leg. he’s all too enthralled by your sensitivity, gaze zeroed in on your expressions— from the slackness at your jaw to the way your brows furrow.
“just h-hurry up already,” you grit, eyelashes fluttering as your eyelids lift. your gaze meets his instantly, and gulp at the hungry look in his eyes. his skin is already flushed pink, lips parted as he pants heavily. “you’re no—ngh, better than i am, dickhead.”
“well aren’t ya damn mouthy,” gojo acknowledged, though clearly unbothered, as his fingers pinch at that bundle of nerve. you gasp, cunt clenching as it leaks more of your essence down on him. your head drops back against his shoulder, the slope of your back curving as you grip onto the closest thing in your vicinity— the hem of his blazer. “hm, whatever happened to my obedient secretary? always so polite and respectful, don’t tell me i haven’t trained you enough?”
“m-maybe you haven’t,” you pant, chest heaving as you feel his fingertips teasing the entrance of your folds. they’re slow movements, applying just enough pressure to ignite the spark in your guts but not enough to leave you wanting more. “can’t even do your damn j-job right and you call yourself boss? hah, wonder if mister geto would have this issue— fuuuck!”
“low fuckin’ blow, sweets.” gojo chuckles darkly, now two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. he wastes no time to plunge himself inside, knuckles rubbing at your velvety walls. you clamp down on his digits, desperate to keep him in for the sake of that orgasm you craved. “and here i was ready to put this pretty pussy in my mouth. you’re dickless for a few days and catch an attitude wimme? that’s cold, baby.”
“dickless?” you cock a brow, teeth gritting as you focus all your energy left on delivering your next line. he always got so cocky whenever he had a slight advantage. “a-according to who—ooh, god, shit!”
“ooh god, shit!” gojo mocks you, a third finger now joining the others. he scissors your cunt open, the slick of your arousal simplifying the slide in. you’re dripping down to his palm, so wet despite the front you’re putting up. he knows you love it whenever he angles his fingers at this angle, the one that has you knees weak and ready to fold. “face it sweets, i’m the only one who treats this pussy the way it deserves. see how well she responds to me?”
and you wish you could negate or deny him, but unfortunately, you both know he’s correct. he’s only got his fingers inside of you and you’re already at your limit. your hips eagerly chase his fingers whenever he pulls out just to thrust them back in, the pad of his thumb drawing infinity signs at your clit. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, knot in your tummy tightening from the stimulation.
“nghhh, ‘m gonna cum,” your hand slides down the slope of his forearm till where his wrist begins. you claw at the bone, clutching and grabbing at him eagerly. damn him and his damned fingers— driving you to mush with all six inches. “more, hah, need more— gimme more!”
“manners, pretty baby.” gojo coos at your ear, despite upping his pace. his hands reach all the right spots, pussy desperate to hold out to his fingers as they fuck your cunt open, soaking the digits in your slick. “c’mon girl, what’s the magic word? i know you’ve got it in you.”
“p-please! pleasepleaseplease—” you’re cut off by your own gasp as the dam in your stomach finally breaks. you leak on his fingers, squirting your juices as your muscles convulse, walls entrapping him in. your back arches away from him and you grasp at anything in your reach, your mouth gaped. you’re cussing like a sailor, vision blacked out beneath your eye lids as your hips twitch and stutter against gojo’s ruthless pace.
your high washes down, as you lose feeling in your limbs, falling face down to the desk. your skin is moist with heat, mouth parted as drool coats the abandoned paperwork beneath you. your body twitches with oversensitivity, thighs quaking as your last few spurts spray all over gojo’s thigh.
“don’t tell me you’re all worn out from a little foreplay?” your boss teases, his free hand delivering a blow onto your ass cheek. it recoils as you jolt, snivelling like a baby. you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, slacks falling next and pooling at his ankles. the next few moments happen in a blur, but sooner than you’d realized, you’d been turned onto your back with your legs propped over his shoulders and your folds were being played with again, the overstimulation having your toes curling in your heels.
“anddd there we go,” gojo strokes at his bricked cock, your essence serving as lube to coat his dick. he drags his fist from the base of his shaft to the tip, both your fluids and his pre cum mixture softening the jerk. “you fuckin’ water park. jeez, maybe i should plug this tiny cunt to prevent any further leakage, yeah?”
“fucking hurry already!” you don’t whine, or so you hope, though the grip of your legs at the back of his neck does tighten. with your skirt hiked up and your panties pushed to the side, gojo has a clear view of your twitching pussy, a hole designated intentionally just for him. he can already feel the cum in his balls ready to burst and fill your womb.
“and back to mouthy she goes,” he chuckles, using the leverage of his hand at his cock to slap his dick at your folds. the impact causes you to whimper, your hands clutching at the border of the desk. you wish you could wipe that smirk off his face, but fuck if the way he didn’t rub himself against you arouse you in ways that would surely haunt you after the orgasmic high faded away.
“take a deep breath for me baby, kay?” gojo instructs, thumb brushing over the skin above your hip bone, and before you’re able to retaliate, he slides in his dick.
his length is nothing to scoff at, and although you’ve already dealt with it in the past, all that prepping he’d done earlier seemed in vain. he bottoms out quickly, balls deep into you cunt. both your moans blend in harmony, overlapping one another as you settle with the aching stretch. your pussy clenches around his cock uncontrollably, both eager to push and pull him away.
“shittttt,” he whines throatily despite the huge grin on his lips. the flush pampering his skin has gotten significantly deeper, pale brows furrowed to the centre of his forehead. his hands grip at your plush thighs, fingers digging deep into your skin, surely enough to leave bruises. the bastard— he knew you’d be forced to wear your own slacks tomorrow to avoid suspicions.
“no fuckin’ way ‘m already set to bust— hah, fuck, what in the magical pussy is this?” gojo groans, snowy hair bouncing with his head thrown back. the tighter you grip at his cock, the tighter he grips at your thighs and the deeper his breaths are.
you push yourself up to your elbows, giggling at the irony of the situation. “already huh? so it wasn’t the liquor’s fault last time.” surely you were no better, entirely stimulated and body excreting all kinds of fluids from all over, but the ball was now in your court, and you planned on taking advantage. “s-should’ve known.”
naturally, he doesn’t rise to your bait, instead moving his hips away from yours, slowly dragging his cock out until the only part left in your cunt is his pink tip. “don’t make me make you eat your words, sweets.”
you raise your hand and rest it right above his pelvis, eyes set straight on his. you’re both clearly eager and ready to go, but you still had your dignity to uphold. you drag your palm upwards his torso, nails trailing up his button-up top teasingly before clutching at his tie. with the strength left in you, you yank him down and closer to you.
the shift in position stirs his dick in your cunt, knees now pressed closer to your chest. he hovers over you, a newfound look in his eyes you aren’t ready to divulge into—he was a very expressive man after all. both your lips ghosts one over another, breaths hot and mingling. you feel fuzzy, all senses fucked but collectively drawing at a same conclusion: wanting him to fuck your brains out on this desk.
“fuckin’ hell that was sexy.” it almost comes off a whisper, his tone breathless as his eyes bare deep into your. you feel the warmth of his hands fading away in favour to cup at your waist.
you tilt your head to the side, nose grazing against his. your fingers fiddle with the hem of his tie, despite never breaking the eye contact. “you gonna rock my world now?”
nothing more has to be said as he engulfs your mouth into his, knocking the wind out of you. his tongue explores the warm cave of your mouth, no inch left untouched. you moan and kiss him back just as eagerly, sliding the hand from his neck tie to his nape. your fingers thread through his soft locks, nails scratching his scalp and tugging at the roots.
he whimpers pathetically, the pain sending courses of arousal straight to his dick as his hips slam right back against yours. his thrust is rough and deep— leaving you gasping, as he takes the opportunity to kiss you even deeper while simultaneously working on his strokes.
the curve of his cock reaches even deeper than his fingers could manage, rubbing at your gummy walls and stretching them even wider. the sounds of your bodies connecting, your skins slapping, both your fluids mixing— everything felt so wanton, so filthy. he was everywhere, so far in your stomach you swear you could feel him in your throat.
the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.
“s-shit, oh fuck— don’t stop, ngh, right there!” you begged, throwing your head back against the hard surface. you’d given up on trying to keep your eyes open, the intensity of his dick ramming into your guts so fierce, you’d never felt anything like it.
he takes a sharp inhale of breath, followed by a whiny exhale. you were driving him insane, your sloppy cunt greedily clamping on his dick as if it were its lifeline. “suckin’ me in so tight, shitttt baby, ‘s like you want me to fill this perfect pussy full of my nut.” he dives his tongue deeper into your mouth for extra measure. you’re in a turmoil of multiple emotions at once but you kiss him back— until your lips feel tender and your mouth tastes of his breath.
he was annoyingly intoxicating, whether you wanted to admit it or not. your body spoke every word you were ashamed to say, responding with his own almost too perfectly.
when he slips his thumb to toy at your clit, your toes curl in your shoes and you’re accustomed to the oncoming feeling all too well, nails clawing at his skin. your words come out all fumbled mixed with tongue and drool, “s-satoru, i— ‘m gonna, don’t you stop— fuck ‘s too much— hnng!” you pull away just slightly, eyes all dazed as they roll to the back of your skull.
“shit, oh shit, me too,” he swipes at the drool dribbling past your mouth. from there, he plants more kisses at your skin, nibbling at every inch of you. he’s rutting like a madman, pace unforgiving as he focuses on that same spot that has you mindless. he finds you prettiest when you’re this way— all obedient for him. “my pretty girl— where do i— fuck, where—”
“inside.” as if you’d wanted to kill him, just as quick the word left your lips, he emptied his balls in your cunt. he sobs, his orgasm wracking over his entire body as he slams and fills your pussy full of him. the mixture of sounds is downright sinful, and whether it’d been the focus on your clit or his inhumane stamina, you soon met your similar end.
you cream on his dick once more, legs trembling as your second orgasm washes over you. your mind gone dumb, you do nothing but lay as you take the pounding inflicted on your worn out pussy. with each stroke you see stars, breasts juggling at the match of his pace. it’s damn near painful, but in the best enjoyable way. you feel yourself getting fuller by the second as you spray more of your arousal onto him.
the high eventually comes down for you both, the room reeking of sex. you’re both panting heavily, muscles twitching from overexertion. you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been fucked to the point of a momentary blackout— but you’d be damned if you’d ever let him know. he was too busy crying over your cunt anyways.
after a moment of silence, “. . .shit.”
“what?” you hum tiredly, rubbing the back of your hand to your tired hands. god, you could barely muster enough energy to do just that. what did this man eat?
he skips a few beats, before sheepishly chuckling, the hand that’d once been tracing patterns at the skin of your thighs now moving to your side. your gaze follows his movements, and it’s only when he retracts his hand does your heart sink to your chest.
“we definitely fucked these papers up.”
. . . shit.
io baby.. if you ever end up reading this i did it :c
#stargirl★rena.#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n
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jealousy, jealousy...
- nanami kento x reader
your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?
genre/warnings:
crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)
note:
based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.
He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.
Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.
So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—
"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."
Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."
Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.
The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"
"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."
And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…
"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"
Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.
You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.
Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.
But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?
"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"
A puppy... is what?
That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.
No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!
The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.
Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.
Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.
"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.
Who... are you texting?
Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."
"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."
You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"
But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."
However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.
Ino.
A puppy is still a dog, you know~
The heck?
"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.
"Time for bed, dear."
Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.
The third time, Nanami had enough.
He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.
Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!
He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—
He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."
"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"
Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"
Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.
"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."
"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"
"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."
"...what?"
And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.
Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.
"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"
He huffed. "I was not jealous."
"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"
"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"
"Oh—?"
"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."
And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."
You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.
"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"
Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.
"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"
And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.
Epilogue
"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"
Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.
"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."
"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."
"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"
As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.
"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"
#nanami kento x reader#jjk fluff#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#kento nanami x reader#nanami x reader fluff#nanami kento#kento x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento fluff#kento nanami#kento nanami x you#nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk imagines#jjk drabbles#nanami x you
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I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera
Synopsis. On your knees in front of your boyfriend, it was just an innocent video, right? So why are you hearing his best friend’s voice from behind the screen?
Pairing. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, being recorded, voyeurism, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, mentioned threesome, cowgirl, dirty talk, pet names (babe), swearing.
Word count. 1.5k
A/N. Surprise post. Art by @_3aem on X.
“Smile for the camera, babe.”
You would - if you weren’t choking on his throbbing cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, throaty little gurgles muffled by his leaking tip hitting the back of your throat.
The flashlight was blinding.
Harsh light bouncing off your boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes, pupils blown. Chest rising and falling erratically, hungry gaze locked on the way you gag and moan around his dick. “Mmm yeah- oh fuck yeah, deeper. Milk me dry, babe. Look s’pretty on film.”
Strangled praises only spurring you to obey mindlessly, you relax your throat - shoving his pulsing dick deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. Your nose pressing into the tufts of hair on his pelvis, wet with precum and spit. Too cock-drunk to think too hard about the rustling from the screen.
Precum salty on your tongue, you flick his sensitive slit in a way that makes him throw his head back - phone unsteady in one hand, the other searing on your scalp. Breath hitching, he bobs your head in increasingly urgent movements - up, up, up. Desperate, jerky thrusts of his hips like he’s trying to fuck something delicious out for you.
Your boyfriend's knuckles are white on his phone. Deliriously, you wonder why the fuck he even bothered with the video at this point - too shaky, too impatient.
Almost as if he could read your mind, a low whisper rings in your ear, breath hot on your face. “Don’ worry about that, babe.”, zooming in on your swollen, glossy lips. “Jus’ focus on what you’re doing like the filthy slut you are.”
Feeding off the electricity crackling in the air, you tighten the hands massaging his tight balls. Pressing right between them in the way you knew drove him crazy.
You squeal - as much as you can with his throbbing erection lodged in your throat - nails digging into his hips as they tremble and buck into your plush mouth. “Ah! Oh fuck- Hngh- Baby, m’gonna m’gonna-”
His words turn into breathy moans, signaling the beginning of the end. With a final thrust, he explodes in thick ropes of cum that paint your mouth white. You struggle to swallow the hot spurts of seed quickly enough, coughing around his twitching cock. Cum spilling out of your bruised lips, specks splattering onto the back of his phone.
Tears stinging your eyes, but you still refuse to break eye contact - batting your lashes innocently at him as you milk his cock for everything he’s worth.
Chest heaving, lust-drunk words tumble out of his lips, “S’perfect. Look at her hah- look how fucking pretty she swallows my cum.”
Words you’re slowly realizing aren’t meant for you.
Heart dropping straight to your dripping cunt, eyes widening as it strikes you - this fucker was on video call.
Now, he didn’t mean to trick you. He really did feel so awful about it - but watching the way his pretty girl’s lips stretched so sinfully around his cock - he really couldn’t bear to be stingy enough to hide it.
Which is why, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his lips, he pats your hair soothingly as you sputter. “Now now. We’re not done yet. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t give my buddy a front row seat to you creaming on my cock?”
Humiliation mingling with something carnal inside you, you freeze in shock as an awfully familiar voice chuckles from the phone. “C’mon now, sweetheart. I bet you’ll cum faster with an audience.”
Thighs squeezing together. Heat rushing to your cheeks. Shit. Maybe you will.
And for all the dark confidence on your boyfriend's face, you relish in the breathless gasp escaping him as you stand. Knees stinging where you straddle his hips - still-hard cock glistening with cum and saliva, leaking onto his toned abdomen.
Surprise flickers across his face, swiftly replaced by a predatory excitement echoed by the appreciative groan from his best friend.
“Well, might as well put on a show, huh?”
And with that, you sink down completely onto his still-sensitive length, groaning at the feeling of him throbbing inside you, heavy balls pressing into your ass. Tears clinging to your lashes at the delicious stretch, you don’t give yourself time to adjust to his thick cock, grinding in feral, mindless motions with reckless abandon.
One hand has a bruising grip on your hips, steadying your rhythm as he thrusts up into you at an unforgiving pace matching yours. The other, angled just right to capture your dripping, wet hole stretched so shamefully on his throbbing dick.
“That’s right, show him that perfect view. Goddamn. Imagine how jealous he is- fucking his fist just wishing that was you.”
“Sh-shit. She jus’ got wetter. Looks s’good with her pretty pussy stuffed.” Low groans spill from his phone, making you buck \wildly into his twitching cock.
White-hot ropes of pleasure run down your spine at the lewd squelches sounding from the speaker - your boyfriend’s best friend not even trying to hide his desperate chase for pleasure.
Balls stinging your ass at the merciless cadence, it’s all you can do to brokenly stammer out “Sh-show.”
A moment fumbling to switch the camera and you wince as the light hits your eyes. A jolt going down your body at his best friend’s disheveled state.
Greedy gaze flickering between your boyfriend - brows furrowed and bottom lip under his teeth as he focused on fucking your snug cunt - and his best friend on the screen - hungry gaze locked on you and thumb mercilessly teasing his leaking tip. Veiny hand moving up and down. Up and down up and-
“Shit, baby. You’re hah- clenching down on me so hard, like being watched, hm?” a dangerous murmur. You whine mindlessly in agreement, mixing with the relentless slapping of skin as you fuck yourself deeper and deeper onto his heated cock.
“Hngh- M’getting so fucking hard just watching her drunk on your cock. Look s’good split open on it.”
“Yeah? She’d probably look better split open on two. Maybe we should let you join in next time. Would you like that, babe? My little cockslut?”
You jolt as you’re finally addressed as the men spoke over you as if you were nothing more than an object. A carnal, ugly part of you delighting in the way you were so used.
“Oh god, yes.” you pant, words pulling you closer and closer to the edge, head spinning so deliriously. “Wan’ both of you. Wanna feel both of you inside me. I need it.”
Your boyfriend's eyes narrow, pupils dilated with lust as he responds, “Anything for my greedy girl. But for now…” his voice trails off, thrusting deeper into your snug cunt.
Onscreen, his best friend groans, doubling down on the hasty hand moving along his throbbing length. “Fuck, I wish I was there.”
A hum of agreement, “C’mon now. Beg me to fill you up, slut. Make sure our lil’ friend hears how desperate you are.”
“Yes, yes, yes” you chant, lost in the haze of pleasure. “Fill me up, please. Want it dripping out of me.”
At your words, your boyfriend’s pace falters, thrusts becoming erratic and desperate as he approaches his climax - his best friend not far behind, fist flying fervently up and down his glistening length - in tandem with the ruthless cock ramming into you.
“God. Such a good little slut f’us” your boyfriend praises, voice strained with pleasure. “Cum for us, baby. Let us see how much you want it.”
And that’s all it takes for you to see stars behind your closed lids, riding out wave after wave of pleasure on your boyfriend’s twitching cock. Finally, he empties inside you with a guttural groan, filling your fluttering walls to the brim with his seed.
So much- there was so much. Seems he was the one that adored having an audience. Though, with the way your pussy is greedily milking his cock, you can’t say you’re far behind.
Your thighs shake in pain and pleasure as his hot cum leaks out of your overfilled pussy, dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks into you like an animal. Over and over and-
With all the strength you can muster, you crack an eye open to glance at the screen - only to catch the heavenly sight of him losing control. Fist faltering on his throbbing erection as with a final, forceful tug he spurts thick ropes of seed. An orgasm so hard that it leaks onto his lap and reaches his chest.
The three of you chasing peak after peak. So sinfully.
Your ears ring, vision spotty as your high finally bates. Spent, you collapse against your boyfriend’s muscled chest, heart hammering wildly against both of your ribs, and cunt still twitching in sensitivity.
Still disoriented and completely fucked out, you almost miss the low murmur from above you. Almost.
“Can’t wait till you’re here to see this in person.”
- GOJO and GETO, TOJI and SHIU, SUNA and Osamu, ATSUMU and SAKUSA, Eren and Armin
A/N. I miss when this song was everywhere.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#aot x reader#aot smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji x reader#shiu kong x reader#gojo smut#suna x reader#osamu x reader#atsumu x reader#sakusa x reader#eren x reader#armin x reader#toji smut#suna smut#tonywrites
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❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌) ❞
❝ WHAT HAPPENS YOU TAKE CARE OF NANAMI ALL YOUR LIFE -- AND HE DOES THE SAME FOR YOU ? ❞
✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader
✧ summary: throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, hurt / comfort w/ a happy ending, domesticity, jjk canon compliant au (because nanami is alive) reader is the same age as nanami, set during through the events of star plasma vessel to end of jjk, nanami getting hurt and reader taking care of him, reader gets a cold and nanami takes care of her, jealous! nanami, kitchen counter sex, soft dom! nanami, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing
✧ wc: 7,657
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 3 has been sold to two anons!
“Show me,” Nanami furrows his brow in reply, jaw set as he glares, but he knew no amount of staring would get you to let this go. You stood in the doorway of his dorm room — your room was clear across on the other side where the girls resided, so he wondered for a split second how you knew he returned when it had barely been an hour, but answered his own question without having to utter a word (Haibara).
“It’s not bad. It’ll heal by itself—“ and you’re shaking your head, and his lips purse, “it really isn’t worth speaking to Ieiri about — it’s not a wound, just a bruise—“
But still you stood, as immovable as ever — and he finally relented, unbuttoning his jacket, as he shrugged it off, unable to hide his wince as he revealed the large bruise that colored his skin in red, his skin peeling and angry, and surely would turn into a lovely mish-mash of purple and blue.
You brush past him into the dorm room, as you brought a first aid kit in, setting it on the bed, turning your head before tilting it as if to say, “well?”
He repents, as he always did with you — he knew a battle of wills with you was as unwinnable as a battle of jujutsu with Gojo — not to mention needlessly frustrating. He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed to the floor, as you grabbed a washcloth from the kit, heading for his bathroom. He hears the sounds of water running, and the squeak of the faucet closing.
You return as you lift his arm slightly, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to his shoulder.
Your touch is gentle — Nanami was always surprised at how gentle you always were. With the line of work you all did, it was easy to be rough, to find smooth edges corroded and jagged, but no, you remained as smooth and soft as you always were.
He flinches when you bring the wet washcloth to raw skin, and you’re careful even as you seemingly pick out pieces of gravel and dirt stuck in his flesh. And you frown at the sight of it, doing your best to clean every bit.
“So what happened?” you ask, and he gives a terse chuckle.
“Didn’t Haibara tell you?” And you shrug, “I know he told you we’re back,” and your lips curl ever so slightly as your eyes meet him, a small amount of mirth returning.
“Maybe I’m just a stalker,” and he can’t bite back the small smile on his lips, “Haibara told me you didn’t go to Ieiri, and that you got hurt protecting him on your mission,”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, “Ieiri was busy dealing with Haibara, he got it worse than I did—“
“Even if your injury is less serious, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself,” and he sighs, as his eyes slide to you, “you need to learn to care about yourself, Nanami,”
And he knew you were right on some level — he didn’t have a delusion of invincibility and he also didn’t have a strong enough desire to strive to be stronger, but — his fingers grasp at his sheets —that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends die. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, and you don’t meet his gaze when he looks over at you, your brow set in concentration, “it’s not important—“
“Nanami, you don’t ever seem to value yourself properly,” you finish cleaning his arm, before grabbing bandages and tape from the kit, “you are important — even if you don’t think you are,”
And he opens and shuts his mouth — before a smile pulls at his lips — you were far too kind, especially for a jujutsu sorcerer.
And then you add, “and if you don’t get your wounds tended to, I’m going to tell Gojo you want to take a sweets tour of Tokyo,”
…maybe he spoke too soon.
~~~~
“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly during training?” You offer Nanami a makeshift ice pack, a small cloth wrapped up with ice from his freezer, and his lips pursed in disgust as his reply, “ah, Gojo,” the mattress shifted under his weight as he sat,
“That arrogant idiot,” Nanami grumbled, as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his head, “his excuse was that he didn’t know his own strength — he’s lucky that he had infinity or I would have—“
You chuckle, “You know he’s just messing with you, it’s just because you react,” and he scowls at his floor of his room, as if his carpet was the six eyes sorcerer itself, “he’s not so bad—“
He raises an eyebrow, his mouth parted in disbelief, “Are you defending him right now?” And you chuckle, as you lean back against the side of his bed, your head leaning back against the soft comforter that you had bought him and guaranteed would help him sleep better (it only guaranteed that you would be asleep underneath it half the time they spent in his dorm relaxing).
You wave him off, “Lower your blood pressure. I’m not defending him, I’m just saying, it can’t be easy being the strongest — all those eyes on you, the way people treat you, the—”
“The weight of your overinflated ego that you have to carry around—” and you roll your eyes, and the action bites at his last nerve, because he thought if anyone would have his back, it would be you — the next words spit like venom out of his mouth, “I thought you were better than those girls that moon over Gojo,”
And he regrets the words as they leave his lips, as you stare at him wordlessly — not with anger, but frustration — which hurts all the more, “If I was so in love with Gojo, then why am I with you instead of him?” He doesn’t have a reply as you rise to your feet and make your way out the door, the click of the door far too deafening, leaving him with a throbbing in his head — but not just from being hurt.
His fingers curled tighter around the ice pack. Because why—why did the thought of you liking Gojo make his chest ache—the idea of your care and time spent on someone else, not even Gojo, but anyone else, made his stomach churn at the idea.
He had told himself when he decided to become a sorcerer, he would do anything to avoid relationships — even friendships if he could do so. When you work a job like this, it can only end in disaster. but— his eyes slide to the closed door you had just left through.
Why did this feel so much worse?”
~~~
“You can’t stay here all night,” your voice cuts through the silence of the morgue — the only life left in the room. Because he too had died along with Haibara.
Or rather he should have.
He kept the towel over his eyes, unmoving from his chair, head resting back against the cold metal — as if it would protect him — from seeing Haibara sliced half over and over, last words dying on his lips said in pure chaos but somehow Nanami could still hear them ring in his ears— just as the sick crumple of his torso hitting the ground after being ripped from his body. The words leaving his lips as the last vestiges of life left his body, fingers twitching as his lips moved—
You got it from here.
The hopeful optimism from a person seconds before death did little to comfort him. Not when that person should have been the one who lived. He had the one thing that was so rare in his shit world of jujutsu — kindness—
The very thing that left half his body lying against a metal slab.
“I can’t leave until…” he trails off, he didn’t wish to leave until his body was inspected and then taken to be…disposed of. He knew it was for the best that his body is turned to ash, but it made it no easier to consider the person that he knew to be his best friend would be nothing but ash in a few hours time, “I won’t leave him alone,”
You nod, and the silence makes him wonder if you’re leaving, but instead he hears footsteps and the slight scraping of a metal chair against the floor. And he feels the slight brush of you beside him as you sit.
And you don’t say a thing. The only thing is that your fingers brush his tentatively and when he doesn’t pull away you intertwine them. And that’s enough—for now.
Until they take his body away.
A sorcerer glances at the two of you, “Do either of you have contact with next of kin? We need to notify—“
“I’ll handle it,” Nanami says, the towel pulled away from his gaze, hoping his dark bags and red tinged eyes aren’t noticeable to you, but he sees the purse of your lips and knows they are.
The sorcerer shifts, “Have you considered asking his family for—“
“That’s not an option,” Nanami cuts him off with a stare, and the sorcerer parts his mouth before shutting it again with a nod, “okay, please allow us to take his body,”
And they do, pulling the sheet down ever so slightly that Nanami sees a flash of his face — no hint of that smile he always unfailingly had on his lips — it too was gone, just like he was. And they carefully wheel his body away — assumedly to be burned. And the door swings shut behind them — leaving only him and you. Silence hangs over the room, the finality of the moment leaves nothing in its wake but regret.
And regret only felt hollow — just as his heart did.
You choose to break the silence, a shaky sigh leaving your throat, as you quickly scrub tears away from your face, clearing your throat, “Come on, let’s go—”
“You can go ahead, I’m going to stay here for a while,” and your eyes try to find his own, but he still stares at the spot where Haibara’s body had laid for hours. The essence of cursed energy was almost too easy to understand compared to the concept of death — a person can be living, breathing, and talking one day to be nothing but a husk the next. And now, he knew it would be a lifetime of feeling as if something is missing — as if something was wrong — and moments where it felt fine would be overcome by only guilt and anger.
What was the point of all of this? His fingers formed into fists, nails digging into his palms — were they nothing but pawns to be used in an unending game that forced sorcerers to not only to put their lives on the line, but their colleagues as well. A twisted game that only ended in a pile of corpses.
“Nanami, you can’t stay here all night—”
“I’m fine,” he rubs at his temples — and how long would it be until he’s staring at your body on that slab? Or maybe you’d be staring at his own—crying over his body just as he had done for Haibara, “you can go—”
“I’m not leaving you, and you shouldn’t stay here — you need sleep—”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” he snaps, his gaze meets yours, “I’m not injured, I didn’t even get hurt— ”
“Yes you did,” you say quietly, as you step closer to him, but his eyes refuse to meet your own.
“No—” and your hand finds his chest.
“This pain is worse than any physical pain you could put in — and I wouldn't leave you to deal with a bruise by yourself, so what makes you think I’d leave you now?” you say softly, and tears burn at his eyes, as your hands gently pull him into your arms, his head buried against your chest, “I’m not leaving you, Nanami,” you murmur quietly, as your fingers slowly run through his hair.
And you didn’t — he was the one who left you.
~~~~
You never get sick. That’s what you loved to brag about — especially yesterday when you got home from spending an entire two days in the rain soaking wet and ice cold without a hint of cold symptoms.
You supposed your bragging was a curse in and of itself because now you were buried under your comforter. You barely manage to text Shoko that you’re sick and you won’t be able to make it to class today. And now you had to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed to take your medication or to simply sleep it off.
But your body made the choice for you as your eyes fluttered shut and you slipped into a fitful sleep, body burning from the inside out.
Consciousness faded in and out, as you felt something brush against your forehead, your eyes heavy as they open ever so slightly, a flash of blue and blond, before you fall back into sleep.
Your head aches, muscles heavy, and the smell of spices wafted through the apartment, “Are you finally awake?” a voice said, as your eyes flutter open, still burning at the corners as your head turns.
“Nanami?” You croak out, throat raw and dry, as if your flesh was raked across coals, “what are you—“
He turns his head from your kitchenette — a ladle in hand, before he sets it down, wiping his hand with a dishcloth. And he steps over to your bed, pulling the washcloth from your forehead, before placing a cold washcloth, “your fever went down a little,” he said, “but I brought cold medicine and I made some soup for you,”
“You didn’t—“
“Have to?” his lips quirked up, “I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to,”
“How did you know I was—“ and his eyes find yours, “Shoko,” and he nods, you relax back into your bed, “how long have you been here?”
He turns back around to finish cooking the soup for you, stirring, the metal of the ladle slightly clinking against the sides of the pot, his eyes flicker to your clock, “About an hour and half, hasn’t been too long,”
“Why are you taking care of me?” you mumble, glancing at his back, as he lifted the ladle to pour into a small bowl to taste the seasoning of the soup, “you don’t owe me anything—“
“I owe you a lot,” he cuts you off, the clatter of the bowl against the counter as he sets it down, the click of the stovetop as he shut it off, “but that’s not the reason I did it,” and your brow is furrowing under the washcloth, as he walks over to you, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Then why?”
And he raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think?” And his fingers brush your cheek, “you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have, otherwise I would have left, a long time ago,” and you don’t know how it’s possible for your face to grow warmer but it does from his words and his touch that lingers against your cheek.
And he’s gone as quickly as he came, going over to the stove to take out a bowl of soup for you to drink, “can you stay after I finish eating? Until I fall asleep?” You ask, as he brings the bowl over, as you sit up slowly, head spinning as you do still.
“Of course,” and he does, staying by your side after you eat and take your medicine, hearing your quiet murmur, “thank you, Kento,”
And he realizes, as his lips curl into a smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, just how much he liked hearing his name on your lips.
~~~
“How did you manage to hurt yourself on our last mission together as students?” you sigh, the worry in your voice making his lips curl — as the two of you had just found yourselves in his dorm room, as you rifle through his bathroom to pull out the first aid kit you had given him (after you had learned he didn’t own one).
You return to him sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand up in such a way that he didn’t drip blood all over his sheets. Your fingers brush his own, and he’s still surprised at how soft your hands are. His hands had grown rough from the years of jujutsu, calloused from the grip of his fingers around his blade handle, but somehow, yours were always as soft as he remembered them.
Your fingers found his, warmth blooming as your brow wrinkled as you scruntized the cut on his hand, “Maybe we should ask Shoko to look at it—”
“There wasn’t any cursed energy that cut me — it was just—”
“Debris, I know,” and this seemingly did little to soothe your worries, had gotten when pushing you out of the way of the curse, “I had it handled — you shouldn’t have dove in—”
“It’s fine, it’s not that bad—” but your glare cuts off his sentence, as you begin to clean the wound.
You shake your head, “What am I going to do with you? Every time you go on a mission, I’m going to be worrying about what trouble you’re going to get yourself into,”
He’s silent, his eyes unable to meet yours — he can’t keep hiding this from you. He had made the decision months ago — and it was only a matter of time before someone else slipped up and told you (most likely Gojo).
“I’m leaving after graduation,” he says the words like ripping off the bandage, but it hurts him all the more when your fingers are still for a moment, your eyes finding his own, as you stare at him.
“You’re—” you cut off, and you don’t protest, you don’t argue — you only ask one question — “Why?”
And that one question was more difficult to answer than any other you could have asked, a sigh stuck in his throat, as he shook his head.
“I can’t do this anymore — I haven’t wanted to since—” he cuts off, mouth impossibly dry — it was easy to tell Yaga he wasn’t going to continue, even easier to take care of half a dozen grade 2 curses at once — but this was— “I can’t stand by and watch my colleagues die one by one beside me — I don’t want to live like this. I’m sorry—”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Kento,” his heart squeezes at the sound of your voice wrapped around his name — what you had taken to calling him recently — “as long it’s what you want. I know it’s been difficult—I was surprised you hadn’t left when—” and your voice falters, neither of you could bear to bring up his name, refusing to even utter it around the other — as if it would summon every horrible memory from that time—and your voice is soft, “I just want you to be happy,”
And there’s nothing more than he wanted to be the one to make you happy — nothing more than he wanted to ask you to be by his side, let him be the one to take care of you, and nothing more he wanted than to ask you to leave with him—
But that was the one thing he could never ask you to do.
Just as you would never ask him to stay for you.
“I want you to be happy too,” he murmurs, as you continue to clean his cut, before your fingers are moving to grab the bandages, slowly beginning to wrap them around his palm, “more than even myself,”
“What’s new?” he wrinkled his brow, and you chuckle, “I mean, you never put yourself first, and I’m glad you are now. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not….here,” and you finish bandaging his hand, but his fingers curl around yours, “Ken—“
He squeezes your hand softly and his words are just as soft, “You would be the only one who could ever make me happy,” and he hears your breath catch, and it only makes him want to steal it from your lips with his own, “because I know that being by your side would be only thing that could satisfy me,”
Your fingers brush against his cheek, “Too bad I’m apparently in love with Gojo—“ you tease, all too pretty smile as you do, and his lips draw even closer, “Kento—“
“And if you’re so in love with Gojo, why are you here with me?” And he waits, waits for you to pull away, to stop him, to show any indication you didn’t want this—
But you close the gap instead, lips barely brushing his, so chaste, and yet it’s a spark to kindling — a fire neither of you should have lit. And yet, his lips find yours, insistent, his fingers cup your cheek, featherlight touch drawing a shiver down your body that he relishes in.
“Kento—“
“Why is it my name on your lips?” And he kisses you again and again, your noses brushing each other’s, he’s murmuring your name like a prayer, and if it was, he would worship at your altar each day, “Why it is that you’re kissing me?”
And your lips curl against his, as they find his again, “You kissed me first,” and he can taste the sweetness of the melon bread you had shared with him that morning, but something even sweeter that only be you, “so why did you do that?”
But you knew why — especially from the smile gracing your features, one that he wished he could have etched in the inside of his mind, “Isn’t it obvious?” and your lips part to answer, but he cuts you off with another brush of your lips, “I love you,”
And your eyes widen only slightly, but you’re kissing him again, arms curling around his neck, fingers sliding behind his neck — “Figured that out when you got jealous of Gojo, but I’m glad you admitted it,” and your forehead finds his, “and that I love you too,”
You loved him — you loved him — he had to tell himself again and again, but he still couldn’t fathom it. Was it a dream? You were always a dream to him — something he could nearly grasp with his fingers, but always remained just out of reach.
And now he held you in his hands and he never wanted to let go. But he had to — he knew he had to.
So he would — even if it would hurt — hurt that no bandage would fix.
He kissed you again, unless you were the one to place it.
~~
“Why is it that I always find you like this?” Nanami’s eyes slowly met yours — he sat in Ieiri’s office, waiting to be seen, only find you there in the doorway instead, “it’s as if you’re asking to be patched up by me, Kento,”
How long had it been? And somehow he knows the answer before even thinking about it — it had been nearly a decade. A decade since the two of you had graduated — you moving to Kyoto to help run the campus there, while he had moved onto a regular college and then a corporate job — one that had nearly sucked his soul dry of any life he had to begin with. And it was only when he had received gratitude for the first time in a long time — that he remembered the reason he had stayed a jujutsu sorcerer after Haibara…
And now, here was the other.
He murmurs your name, nearly sounding foreign on his lips, “How did you—”
“I ran into your student, Nanamin,” and he furrows his brow at the nickname — Itadori’s little name for him after he had refused to be his sensei. Because he wasn’t one — Gojo may have taken up the mantle of teacher for his own personal ego trip — but he wasn’t ready to form relationships like that. And yet…his lips curl, there you were, “didn’t think you wanted to be a teacher,”
“I don’t, but how can I refuse that white haired idiot?” he half grumbled with a sigh, eyes still slowly grazing over you, “but I don’t want to talk about him right now,”
You draw a step closer, shutting the door behind you, a lilt in your voice as lovely as your grin, “Then what do you want to talk about?” and you stop right in front of him, as your fingers reach out, and he’s nearly leaning into your touch, but he’s wincing, as your fingers press against his bruised body, “because I want to talk about how you ended up in such rough shape,”
A sigh stuck in his throat, his next words nearly along with it, “It could have been much, much worse,” he murmurs, “if Itadori wasn’t there, I—” he breaks off, “that special grade — he could touch my soul and it had caught me in its domain—”
And your arms are pulling you into a tight hug, your fingers running through his hair, “But you’re here, you’re okay,” you murmur softly, your palm pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pump under your fingers, “you made it,”
“But—”
“But nothing, Kento, you’ll make it back every time,” your fingers cup his cheek, pressing your forehead against his, “right?”
Your touch was the only thing that could truly make him feel whole again — as if every crack in his soul had been mended with gold, “how do you know?”
And your lips curl into a soft smile, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Because you love me, right?”
The chuckle on his lips is nearly enough to bite back his nerves as the words leave his lips, “I’ve loved you for years, sweetheart, that’s nothing new,”
You’re shaking your head, “And all these years, we always found our way back to the other, right?” your hand finds purchase on his shoulder now, the other against his cheek, “so we just have to keep doing that,”
“You make it sound so simple,” he murmurs, and your lips find his — and it makes him wonder how he had spent so much time without your touch, because right now it was the only thing keeping him whole — stealing the doubts from his head and the aches from his body — leaving only heat filling the empty gaps left behind.
“It is simple,” your hand interlaces with his, “if we let be.”
~~~
“I’m starting to think you hurt yourself on purpose around me more now that we’ve moved in together,” you examine the small cut on his finger, a nick from the knife that the ratio sorcerer had been using to slice his freshly baked loaf of bread. Scarlet slipped from the small cut, and his soft murmur of ‘ouch’ unfortunately had not gone unheard by you. He swore you must have selective hearing — you wouldn’t listen when he told you to go to bed, but you’d hear him hiss in pain under his breath even when half asleep on
“It’s not too deep, I think just a bandage should be fine,“ Your brow knit together as you purse your lips, and he bit back his smile, knowing it would only serve for him to get scolded for not being more careful.
“It’s nothing, love, I can take care of it—“ and his breath catches when your lips find their way around his finger, sucking slightly to ease the bleeding, your tongue flicking over the cut, “sweetheart—“ he swears under his breath, a distinct flush burning at the crown of his cheeks, “what—“
“They say saliva can help a cut heal faster,” you smile, before pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit you had pulled out, and your lips press a sweet kiss to his cut again, a smirk as you meet his gaze, “Ken—”
And he’s kissing you, your body tenses a moment only to melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck — he can taste his blood on your lips, raking your fingers through his hair. He can only think about getting closer, closer, closer — he needs you. His hands slide down your back, until they find your hips, squeezing, as he presses himself to you.
“Baby,” you murmur breathlessly, as your lips part his, a gasp that turns to a soft moan when his lips press heated kisses down your jaw. His nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, as he presses you against the counter of his apartment, his hands slide down, large palms grasping your ass, “I need—”
“What do you need?” his fingers sneaking up and down the sides of your body. His teeth graze your pulse, your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, as his tongue soothes the mark he left behind, “because you know I’ll give you anything you ask for, sweetheart,”
And his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter, calloused palms pressing your legs apart — but he barely has to, your thighs already spreading for him. And he finds your shorts nearly soaked through — your drenched cunt visible even through the two layers of fabric stuck together from your arousal.
But you don’t need to ask for him to know what you want — it’s second nature, it’s instinct for his fingers to dip inside the waistband of your shorts and underwear alike, tugging them both down, until you were kicking them off.
“Is all this for me?” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, as two fingers graze down your slit, gathering your pre on his fingertips, before he meets your gaze only to lick his fingers clean, “I was never one for sweets — except when it came to you. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,”
Your head lolls back, as his thick fingers circle your clit with practiced ease, pulling back only to drag his tongue up the length of your needy cunt. And your eyes find his again, heady gaze heavy with need and his pretty lips and chin already glossy with your juices.
“Kento—fuck,” your fingers thread through his blonde locks. First, one finger sinks in and then another —
his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue stretches your walls in tandem with your fingers, grinding against his face, “s’good, I can’t—“
But he’s relentless, the wet squelch of your messy walls and your choked out moans ring in his ears and are nearly enough to make him cum right in his pants — already far too tight, blood rushing downwards far too quick.
Another
“Such a good girl,” Kento murmurs, and you are, so perfect — “just let me take care of you,”
“Kento, please, more, need—“ and his lips find your clit, tongue flicking against the hardened bud, before sucking long and hard, while a third finger joins the other two. Your back arches, the coil in your stomach grows tighter and hotter — your slick dripping from your messy hole onto the counter.
His fingers squeeze at your flesh, and he could live between your legs forever — it could be his meal morning, noon, and night — he could spend hours lapping at you until you fell apart over and over. His fingers stretch you out far too deliciously, and your walls are giving that telltale flutter.
“Kento—g’nna cum—I—“ and his fingers are fucking you harder and his lips close around your clit, sucking hard, until you’re moaning his name, muscles growing tight as you fall apart. You’re a mess, your fingers trying to press his head impossibly closer as you grind against him, riding out your orgasm, as your juices gush over his face — and he’s lapping up every drop, as you fall limp against the counter, his arm slipping around your back to support you.
Your eyes flutter open to watch him pulling away with a pop, strings spit and cum connecting you to your cunt. His gaze drags over you, watching your juices drip against the counter, as he murmurs quiet praises, licking his lips clean of your release.
And your fingers find his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips, the filthiness of it all enough for his cock to grow even harder against your thigh. And it’s a matter of moments, before your fingers are tugging at his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his erection, his pretty cock all but ready for you — lovely ruddy head dripping with pearly white beads of precum.
“Look at what you do to me, love,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his, gaze blown out in lust.
“Kento, please,” and his lips curl, his fingers raking through your hair, as he pulls you even closer, his erection bumping against your sopping pussy, “I want—“
He drags his cock over your slit, watching his pre mix with your release, the two of you groaning when his tip catches on your clit, “what do you want sweetheart? Tell me, tell me what you need,” his arms are hooked around your knees, pressing them to your chest.
You keen when his tip teases your sopping hole, “I need you to fuck me—“ and you’re whining as his cock pressed into you, splitting you open on his length — and god you could never get used to how big he was — you could feel very pretty vein and delicious curve—
Fuck, he could bust just looking down at you, at the way your lips parted for him as he had sunk into you, the way he could see how your pussy stretched around his dick — like you were made for him. Pleasure ripped up his spine at the sight — his fingernails digging crescents into your hips.
And he knew that he was certainly made for you.
“S’good, s’full — please,” you’re nearly mewling, begging for him to move, “Kento—“ and he obliges, unable to hold back any longer, as he begins to slowly rock his hips against you, each stroke getting longer and deeper. His balls slap against your hips, as he picks up the pace — your walls squeezing around him.
“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t think you could get any tighter,” he grunts, his cock stuffed inside your walls, and he’s gritting his teeth, your soft moans and the noises of your pretty pussy becoming too much for him. White ring of release formed around his base — his balls growing tight as he inches closer and closer to blow his load, “you always can f’me, can’t you?”
And he gives a particularly hard thrust, right as his lips find yours in a messy, sloppy kiss — all tongue and teeth, your head falls back when his tip finds your g-spot again and again. You squirt all over his length, soaking him and the counter with your release, as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. Your toes curl when he finally comes, his release painting your walls with his thick, hot release — fucking it deeper and deeper, and he’s notching himself inside.
You’re slumping against him, your eyes shut, as he pulls you closer into his arms, pressing sweet kisses all over your face until he finds your lips again.
“I love you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open as he cups your chin, a soft smile on his lips.
“I love you more,” and he’s slowly lifting you, carrying you over to your shared bed, and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“But what about your cut?” You mumble, and a chuckle on his lips, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he sets you down on the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth to clean you up.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty,” he murmurs, as he finishes cleaning you up, only to slip into bed beside you — “let me take care of you.”
~~~
It was over.
That’s what Nanami had thought when Mahito had stopped him in his tracks, his hand pressed against his chest, but more importantly, against his soul.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami said, his eyes unable to tear away from the curse’s.
He could barely feel anything anymore — the stinging had dulled somewhere between his trek down the winding tunnels of Shibuya station. Instead, he could only hear the echo of his footsteps, as he had forced himself to take one step forward over and over and over — and that’s when he had seen them.
The congregation of curses or mutated humans — he didn’t know which they were, but did it really matter at this point? It didn’t. He dispatched them all the same — all while his thoughts were only filled of you — you, you, you and you.
And a beach in Malaysia.
“Yeah, Kuantan would have been nice,” and it would have been — it was only a few months away. The vacation the two of you had meticulously planned out. The days spent out walking the beach, lounging by the water with the books neither of you had never read, and nights falling asleep by each other’s side to the metronome of the waves crashing.
And now, he had found himself, staring death in the face — an echo of his near death from only a few months ago. How had it come to this already? He had always felt he was running out of time — constantly watching the clock, trying to run it out for his retirement, only for it to run out before he could make it to those sandy shores he had dreamed of.
“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips in an easy smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”
Nanami’s eyes fall to the floor, the dirtied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to a curse.
Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.
And then he sees Haibara, appearing in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—
“Itadori,” Mahito says.
“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — horror painted on his face, already so helpless — what else had he seen and now he had to see this too? He shouldn’t have had to see this. He should have been a normal kid — worrying about normal things — not fighting monsters in some damned subway tunnel.
But what could he do about what now? What could he do but stop?
Could he finally stop?
No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.
But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.
But he couldn’t regret it now.
“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from—“
And then there’s a crash — screaming, the sound of blood splattering. It takes him a minute to realize it wasn’t him.
It was you.
You had crashed between the two of them, sending the curse flying with your cursed energy, the impact drawing blood from you and Mahito alike. Your arm was around his body — and Nanami is whispering your name.
“I told you, Kento, we’re always going to come home — even if I have to drag you there,” you say, your eyes still flickering between Itadori and Mahito, “Itadori, tske Nanami—“
“No, this is my fight,” he shakes his head, his fingers clenched into fists, “I almost let Nanamin die — I have to do this—“
“Yuji—“ you say, but he’s already barreling towards Mahito, and you’re whispering fuck, as you take Nanami in the opposite direction.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” and his eyes are barely able to stay open, as you help carry his weight alone the deserted subway, “I’m sorry—“
“Why are you sorry—“ but he’s barely awake along enough to hear your question, until it’s all black.
It takes him several months to recover. Cursed energy healing could only do so much, especially since Ieiri was spread thin enough with everything between Shibuya, the Culling Games, and everything else that came after.
Most of the brunt of his care had fallen on you — you changed his bandages, tended to his wounds, dealt with any signs of infection with help from Ieiri, and handled everything else around the house.
“Why do you do all of this for me?” He asks quietly, one day while he sits, your back turned while you washed the dishes from lunch — the clinking of plates and the sound of water running that squeaks shut when he asks.
You turn, lips in a frown, “what do you mean, Kento?”
His fingernails dig into his knee, biting back a sigh, as you walk over after wiping your hands off, “it’s been months of you just…taking care of me. I don’t get it — I didn’t understand when we were students when you insisted on caring for me, and now…” he swallows, his throat still impossibly dry—even after all treatment, nothing still tasted the same, “I’ve just become a burden—“
You cup his cheeks, “Kento, you are never a burden to me—“
“But—“
“But nothing — wouldn��t you do the same for me if I was in your position?” But he’s shaking his head.
“It’s not—“
“Kento, do you remember our first mission together?” he blinks, his brow furrowing, but you only smooth it with your fingers, “it was my first mission — I had barely gotten the hang of using cursed energy — I hadn’t even exorcised a curse before, but as always, jujutsu society had left children to bear the burden of survival amongst themselves,” and your fingers find his, “but you never left me alone. I froze in front of the curse. I didn’t know what to do with myself — even while you dealt with two others on your own — you still managed to save me, even though you managed to hurt yourself in the process,” your voice was soft, your hand finding his, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing his hand — but he’s not sure whether it’s to remind him you’re here or to remind yourself that he’s still here, “and you don’t remember it do you?” his lips purse, as his eyes can’t find yours, gaze cast downwards, but he hears you give a soft chuckle.
“I look at you and I see all the ways a soul can bruise — because you’ve taken hits that weren’t yours to take — you’ve taken challenges that shouldn’t have been yours to bear,” your fingers skim over his cheeks, “even in what you thought were your last moments,” your voice breaks, swallowing back tears, “your thoughts were of others — of helping your students, of Itadori, of me—” you shake your head, “and you think I’m doing too much for you? I think you deserve so much more than me—“
“All I need is you,” his voice is breaking, swallowing thickly, “that’s all I ever wanted,”
“Then just stay here with me — that would be enough for me,” you lean close and press your lips to his — and even still, the taste of your kiss was never any less sweet, “all I want is to come home to you, you think you can handle that?”
His lips find yours again, as they always would, “I’ll show you.”
~~~
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” and Nanami chuckles, his hands hooked around your knees and thighs, as your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting on one of his shoulders, “Kentoooo, you don’t have to—“
“I want to, and I’m not going to risk it getting any worse by letting you walk on the sand — the sunset was painting the water in hues of gold, pinks, and purples — and the beauty of this beach was only made better by your presence, “just let me do this for you, love,” and you sigh, relenting, as you bury your face in the side of his neck.
“My husband is so doting, just a small cut on sea glass makes you this crazy?” and he shivers slightly, but it’s not from the slight sea breeze tickling his nose, but from your nose brushing against your neck, “are we headed back already?”
“How else will we treat your foot?” your hands slide over his bare skin — the skin still scarred as it always would be, an eye tucked away under an eyepatch — unable to be saved — but your husband was saved all the same, “unless Ieiri taught you how to used reversed cursed technique before our vacation,”
“It’s really not that bad—”
“Is this your first time being a patient?” and you pout, as he chuckles, vibration of his sweet laugh against your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, especially when you see the looks of others as the two of you walk by.
“It’s embarrassing to be carried like this,” you murmur, “come on baby, I can walk the rest of the way,” but he only hums, casting a small glance over his shoulder.
“I like carrying you like this,” his lips curled in a smirk, “everyone knows you’re mine this way,” and your cheeks burn, and you kiss his cheek, pouting as you do, “we’ll be back on the beach soon enough — we have all the time in the world sweetheart,”
And you did — you bury your face in the side of his neck again — with him—
Always.
✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i feel like with every one of these fics i'm never happy with them, but then they end up being better than i remember. apparently i just don't like my writing very much haha. i hope you guys enjoy <3 it's been so long since i wrote nanamin, so i hope it came out good <3
✧ taglist: @1angel-digits1, @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone, @freaky-show, @strangehuman101, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy, @chosobeee, @luneriaa, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @forest-fruits-jam, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @kenmei, @somrou, @spider-fan72, @missukiyo
#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x you#nanami x reader#nanami smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami kento fanfiction#nanami x you#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x reader
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of course other women want your boyfriend
pairing: nanami kento x reader
tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.
"your dad's kinda hot."
the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.
you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.
no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.
and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.
"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.
her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"
you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.
"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"
"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.
"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.
that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.
"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"
"there you are, sweetheart."
kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.
nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.
almost.
"ken!" you breathe.
"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"
"hey!"
his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"
"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.
"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"
"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.
"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.
"sweetheart, i think- "
you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.
"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"
"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.
"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."
she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.
kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.
"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"
aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.
you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.
"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."
his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.
deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.
kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.
"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."
warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.
"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.
aiko!
you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"
aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.
DO NOT REPOST
yay first fic!!!
likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷
#nanami x reader#nanami#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#yves tells you a story ✩🕯₊˚.📖⋆🌙⋆⁺₊✧
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Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.
And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.
So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.
And then it happens again. And again.
And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.
So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?
Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.
He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.
So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.
————
Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.
…and then he meets Tav.
At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.
Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.
But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.
…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.
Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…
But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.
And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.
One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?
Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?
He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…
He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.
It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.
…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.
————
Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.
But it still all came to nothing.
Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.
Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.
Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.
Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.
Just imagine.
#Please enjoy this huge dissertation about Gale#(which was unintentional)#I originally wanted to talk briefly—BRIEFLY—about why the weave scene is so important to him#And then I….kept writing lol#Please also note that while this focuses on successfully channeling the weave I also LOVE the talk you have with him if you ‘failed’ it!#The same themes apply there because when you tell Gale you still think about being alone together he replies that he hopes to embrace you#It’s all about Gale finally finding someone who appreciates him just as he is and being able to connect with them#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#baldur's gate 3#gale x tav#bg3
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Want me to teach you?
"Starting off as journalism clubs buddies, you never know how your relationship will take turns after he offered to give you a lesson."
Pairing : Yunho x f!reader
Word counts : 2.3k
Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , college AU, gamer yunho, oral (receiving), size kink, big dick! yunho, slightly pussy edging, overstimulation, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.
“There’s something between you and her. I mean like you’re in relationship or..?” Wooyoung asked him carefully.
Yunho’s eyes goes widen. He never thought of dating you in the first place. After breaking up with his longtime ex lover, he completely avoided the topic of romance. He’d been dating his ex since high school. But at the certain time they’re in college, she became a campus crush and immediately dumped him.
He let out a soft chuckle in response, “How could that be?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The atmosphere.. ehhm kinda heavy around you two.” Seonghwa suddenly chimed in while his finger moved in circle towards Yunho.
He raised his eyebrow, a thin smile form his lips after ridiculed by them.
“Nah we’re not. We’re just friends, that’s all.”
To be honest, he wasn't that surprise when they asked about it. It all started from two months before. You accidentally took a glance on Yunho’s phone. He’s immersed in Detroit: Become Human walkthrough video while waiting for other faculty journalism club’s member to come.
Then you happened to be walking behind him before taking a seat. “Oh you’re into that game too?”
“I want to give it a try.” He turn at you for a moment before his eyes glued back to the screen. “But I still figure it out whether this one worth it or not.”
You crossed your arms then slightly lean towards him in attempt to get a better view of the video. “Hmm.. It’s a shame if you know most of the plot through this. Like I want you to experience the true ending by your own choices.”
“Wait, you ever played this?” Surprised that you’re into gaming stuff.
“I did, but on PC. I don’t know if there’s any differences if you play it on your console.” You lean away from him.
Now, he’s more interested in you and leaving the video played alone in the background. Distracted by your little fingers fidgeting on the back of your phone unconsciously, as both of you deep in talk. He’s wondering why is it so small and weirdly cute. Then he glanced back to you.
“So you’re not used to play with the controller right?”
You nod at him, “yeah, last time I try it when I was in 7th grade or something. The grip was uncomfortable. Right after that, I decided PC is much more easier.” You paused for a second, “but sometimes I would love to try it again.”
He chuckled seems to know the reasons why. Proceed to clear his throat before he answered you back, “Want me to teach you?”
Deep sighed left from your mouth, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be mad at me the second we’re in.”
“No no, definitely not. I got patience as deep as the ocean. You sure know that.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right, definitely a saint in your past life.”
He laughed at your remark and how annoyed you’re right now. You smacked his arm, telling him to stop. Not to long, both of you getting ready for the club’s meeting as everyone already gathered in.
You thought he’d be joking. He never brought that idea again after the last conversation with you. He occasionally texted you only about the club’s activity or college stuff. Until a week after, he slide a brand new box of controller towards you.
“Better started now or never.” He slightly tilted his head, pointing to where the box landed.
“Yunho, you don’t need to buy me this. I- like just tell me when you’re-”
“Shhh.. save that nagging for later.” His delicate hand started to unbox it with care. Then he handed it to you.
It’s mostly dominated with white and soft blue colors on the side. Plus the kitty paw shaped the thumb grip, make it seems like a customized controller. You reach it in fascination. That’s super cute. Both of you think the same way, but completely on different matters.
Yunho kept looking at your fingers which is nicely wrapped the controller. His eyes following the direction of your little thumbs that moving uncoordinatedly, mimicking the way you’re gonna use it in game. Then, his gaze turn to your lips, looking at how cute and plump it is.
He shook his head, after that he explained to you about it’s feature, how to turn it on and how to charge it. You listen to him just like in one of your lectures. Remembering everything that he told you while nodding at the same time.
“Thanks Yunho, that’s so cute.” You looked at him in guilty. “I bet this was expensive right?”
“Well, actually not that much. I just want you to use it more if it looks like that.” He flicked your forehead. “This is my own wish. Don’t ever feel bad about it, okay?”
After that day, you spent almost every weekend playing co-op game with him. He patiently guided you from the voice chat. Dealing with how forgetful you are and a lot of complaints about your sore fingers. With that antics of yours, he only let out small chuckle or teasing you even more.
On the weekday, sometimes you met him in the club’s room. Mostly during the meeting or when you do the project. The moment you asked him to check your works, he’ll lean over from your behind and randomly put his hand on top of yours while the other hand is scrolling the mouse. There’s also a moment he covered the shelf corner with his hand when your head nearly bump it or he’ll immediately fetched the things you needed where it’s difficult for you to reach.
You never realize that, but not with your other two friends. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they keep exchange glances across the room whenever Yunho and you act like a new pair of lovers. They’re a hundred percent sure sensing something more than platonic relationship, when the actual truth is not. There’s nothing between you two, yet.
✧
It's 3 days before the exam period. The faculty journalism club already in chaos for past few weeks. They’re divided into two teams. First team is responsible with the faculty website news update, and here you are in the second team handling the semester end magazine. Your leader pushed the deadline earlier hoping the only left to do is printed it out at the end of exam day.
Your tired ass have been proofreading for solid three hours non-stop. Flipping through the revision sheet and going back to the laptop. Luckily you don’t have any class today. All of you agreed to finished it today. But alas, there’s only four of you left, and making it worse the other two need to leave too.
“Shit, I forgot to consult my thesis. I’ll be back at evening!” Seonghwa barging out in hurry. No wonder he’s literally your senior a year above you.
Not to long, Wooyoung following around as he got notification with a sudden class at noon. He’s cursing along the way. Of course all of you haunted with the leader’s wrath, considering how strict he is. You still remembered the looks on his face when the last project failed.
There’s only Yunho and you left alone. Silence along the typing sounds are the only sound that filled the room. At this exact time, most of the clubs room are empty. Either everyone still in the class or diving in the library preparing for the exam.
The work flow with him lasted for more than an hour. He’s occasionally sipping his iced coffee while working on it. He took the editing part, after that passed it on to you. But this time, his hand slipped, nudging the cup of his coffee. He could save it, but not with your pile of revision papers. It scattered all over the floor.
“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He immediately crouched down as you do the same to collect the papers.
While collecting it in a rush, your fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Your face only a few inches from his side, making him shiver from the feeling of your warm breath against his skin. Then he turn to face you, staring deep into your eyes. Your heartbeat increase rapidly as he turning his hand to hold yours. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your small plumped lips.
When the tip of your noses touched, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You crushed his lips, kissing him hungrily. He pulled you in, till his back hit against the wall only to bring you on top of his lap while the kiss still not broken. He peeled off his denim jacket as the temperature keep raising between you two.
Gasping for some air, you pull out from the kiss. His index finger caress your cheek trailing down to you lips. You open your mouth to let it in wrestling around with your tongue. He let out small groaned at the sight of it. “I always curious how it taste like.” He lean in to you, whispering into your ears, “and that’s incredibly sweet.”
He picked you without a warning, gives you a quick kiss before plopping you down to the couch, then closed the curtains in swift motion.
Now he’s back to you, nibbling the nape of your neck, sucking on it, sometimes sunk his teeth beneath your skin. You’re squirming under him, gripping onto his hair as the sensation wash over you. He looked up to you, searching for your permission to go lower.
You nodded at him. He’s devouring your lips again while his hand pushed up your tight knee-length skirt, revealing wet trace over your panties. His fingers caress your clothed clit, moved in circular motion. You moaned between the kisses, you can feel he’s smirking on top of your lips.
He moved the panties to the side, then dip his finger into your folds. He chuckled, “you’re already this wet hmm?” Then he’s slipping in another finger, makes you gasped at how full it is inside. At first, his fingers moved back and forth slowly, but over time it’s moving faster making squelched noises due to how wet your pussy is.
He's amused by looking at the face you make right now, moaning out his name when you almost at the edge. He’s stopped in the middle of it, pulled out his fingers. “It’s not enough if it just like that.” He's immediately going down to yank out your panties, then sticking his third fingers into you, moving abruptly while his tongue flicking your clit, sucking on it hungrily. You grip onto his hair tighter, only strangle moan left out from your mouth before his another hand tried to cover it. You buckled your hip as you reaching out the orgasm, biting the palm of his hand trying to stifle your moan. He flicked his tongue few times makes your body spasm due to overstimulation. When you chasing down from it, he licked clean your pussy, then going back to kiss you, giving the taste of yours.
He take a step back, unbuttoning his jeans then pulled down the zipper, letting his cock sprung out from his brief. You took a peek on it with your half lidded eyes, still recovering from the last orgasm. It looks swollen, the unbelievable girth with it’s veins pop visibly, and the tip is glistening with the pre cum. He's stroking it for few times before lining it on your entrance. The tip is slowly in, you can feel the pain as it bigger than your thought.
He's leaning down to you, holding your hands, then trailing kisses on your neck hoping you to relaxes. “I’m sorry is it hurting that much?” He’s stroking your hair while looking into your eyes. “Not.. that much.” You answered him in teary eyes. He kisses your forehead then to your eyes. “It’s a still little bit more baby, can you take it?” You nodding at him. When it’s all in, he let it still for a moment so you get used to it. Then he start moving slowly while his hand unbuttoned your shirt, cupping your breast and slightly fondle it.
He thrusting it faster after he hear you moan in pleasure. His hand grip your waist, while the other hand busy teasing your clit. Your pussy tightened at every deep thrust, making him groaned at the feels. His hips moved erratically after pressing his hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge whenever his cock in you completely. Your nails digging in his clothed back as you feel the knot in your stomach. You squirted over him, making a mess on his shirt. He didn’t stop while your walls clenching on his cock, “you felt so good baby.” After few thrusts he filled your cunt, milking his balls empty. He pulled it out, then plopping himself beside you. Both of you breathing heavily while staring at each other. After realizing it, both of you laughing at how messy you’re right now.
✧
“I’m baaack!” Wooyoung slammed the door open, his eyes goes widen at the sight of you two.
“Aren’t you guys tired? You didn’t move an inches since I left.” He saw you typing furiously on your laptop, meanwhile Yunho sorting out the papers beside you.
Yunho turned to him, “actually I need some snacks.” He gets up from his chair, then put his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulder.
Before they go, Wooyoung looked at you. “You don’t need anything? Or maybe you need some fresh air, you can go with Yunho instead. I’ll continue the rest.”
“I’m fine.” You paused for a second, “uhm.. well, maybe I want a smoothie.”
“Okay got it!” he gives an okay sign to you, then dragged Yunho along out of the club room. Yunho stopped his step, “wait I think I left something.” He ran back to the clubs room.
When he got there, he whispered something to you, “After this, do you still want me to teach you? My lesson isn’t done yet.” You flinched at his sudden peck on your lips. He smiled cheekily while leaving you speechless alone, squirming on your seat as you feel his juice spilled down over your thigh.
#jeong yunho#jeong yunho x reader#ateez smut#yunho smut#ateez fics#ateez fic#yunho x reader#ateez x reader#ateez hard hours#yunho hard hours#ateez fanfic#kpop fanfic#shocymer
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