whiskey-tango-matcha · 2 years ago
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Long Day, Late Night (m)
Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday. 
This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE
cw: male, cold, coughing
Long Day, Late Night
The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.
In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.
Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.
“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.
“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.
“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.
“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.
“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.
“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”
Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”
“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”
Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”
Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”
“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”
“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”
Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.
“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.
“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”
Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”
“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”
***
It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.
Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.
“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.
“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”
Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”
“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”
“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”
“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.
Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.
“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.
“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”
“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”
Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.
“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.
“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”
“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.  
Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.
“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.
“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”
***
Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.
“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”
“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”
The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”
Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”
Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.
“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.
Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…
“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”
Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.
He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.
Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.
“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”
Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.
“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”
Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.
The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.
“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.
“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”
Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.
“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”
***
Service was, to put it lightly, hell.
The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.
The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”
Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.
In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.
“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”
Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.
“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”
The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.
“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.
“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.
“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.
“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”
Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”
“Okay,” Greyson said again.
After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”
Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”
“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”
Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”
Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”
Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
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tonycries · 8 months ago
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Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.
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Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.
Word count. 10.5k
A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.
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Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will. 
Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.
It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.
Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…
But, semantics.
And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?
Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin. 
And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this. 
You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.
“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.
“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.
You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.
“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours. 
“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”
“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”
“It’s also the punchline.”
“At least my punchlines make sense.”
He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”
“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”
“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.
And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.
“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”
“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”
“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”
“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”
It might never have been about physics.
It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-
“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”
Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.
“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.
“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”
“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”
“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”
You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”
A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-
“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.
Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside. 
And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall. 
Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-
And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste. 
Shit, you really were his favorite taste. 
Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst. 
Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.
Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 
Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.
“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.
He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.
“Please.” 
Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge. 
Almost there.
You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.
Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.
Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-
As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you. 
“On your knees, sweetheart.”
Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.
His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,
Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.
Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.
As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up. 
Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.
A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.
“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”
Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.
And you don’t know why it hurt. 
It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible. 
As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.
Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.
Pulling back, “Satoru…”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.” 
Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.
Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette. 
His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.
It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.
He wasn’t yours.
And he probably might never be.
Somehow that terrified you. 
Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?
But why did that hurt so much?
“Gojo, I’m going home.”
Fear.
---
There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it. 
The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.
And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.
No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.  
Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.
So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified. 
But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.
Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed. 
Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…
Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face. 
Have you finally gotten sick of him?
Nahhh.
He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.
It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.
Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him. 
Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”
You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”
“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”
Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”
“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”
“Satoru. I swear to-”
A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”
Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”
“Out, both of you.”
Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces. 
“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.” 
Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. 
Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”
Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”
“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”
A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land. 
Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”
“It wasn’t a joke.” 
Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-” 
At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”
A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”
You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty. 
And that’s exactly what scared you.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”
Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes. 
Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”
Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.
It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.
“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations. 
Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-
“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”
“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”
“Mr. Gojo.”
“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”
“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”
---
The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.
The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.
Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.
You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him. 
It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.
Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-
“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”
Speak of the devil.
Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork. 
Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.
“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.
“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”
Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”
His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”
You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.” 
“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”
“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”
Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”
You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”
“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration. 
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”
A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.
The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping. 
And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear. 
You missed him.
Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.
“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”
Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?” 
Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.
At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”
A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”
The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”
Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone. 
Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”
A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”
He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”
But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.” 
It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-
“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”
“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.” 
Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”
She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.” 
Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”
Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.” 
He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.
Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency. 
“Hey, granny, I have a question.”
“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”
“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”
Ah, you think you’re dying. 
Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…
It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck. 
What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.
You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.
God, was the heater on too high?
The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos. 
Stop it.  
An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears. 
You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos. 
The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder.  Urgent and insistent. Chaos.
“Open up! It’s Satoru!”
Satoru.
Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.
Satoru?
Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.
Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-
“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”
His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.
“Sweetheart?”
A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?
A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.
Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.
“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”
His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”
Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”
A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”
Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”
“Spill.”
“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”
His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”
“Deal!”
With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.
In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest. 
Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”
Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard. 
The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”
His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.
“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”
Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”
You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.
Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.
“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”
Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”
Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from. 
But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him. 
Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.
A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry. 
And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name. 
Oh. 
Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”
But Satoru has never seen you like this. 
“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.
His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.
“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”
His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.
“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.
Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”
His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”
A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.
“I know.”
“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”
“Absolutely.”
“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”
“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”
A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.
“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.
“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”
“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.
Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”
Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer. 
“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.
“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.
“Insurance policy against what?”
“A promise.”
A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”
The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full. 
Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise. 
When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”
Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Satoru, I love you.”
And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.
“And I love you, in every universe.”
---
The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.
And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.
He…finished all of it?
Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body. 
As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.
“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep. 
“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”
Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”
Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”
“And my charm, of course.”
“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”
“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”
You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”
“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”
A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.
Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”
“Mhm~”
A beat of silence. One. Two. 
“Satoru?”
He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you.”
Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them. 
You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly. 
Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours. 
His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest. 
You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart. 
Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-
A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.
You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.
“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust. 
“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”
And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.
Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless. 
Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.
“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.
“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”
You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”
He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this. 
But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water. 
Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.
“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.
It’s a close tie.
“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-” 
And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.
“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.
A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”
“Always knew you were a sore loser.”
“Nah, I’d win.”
“You’re on.”
Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.
His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive. 
Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.
And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow. 
Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more. 
A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.
Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-
It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”
“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket. 
You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you. 
Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.
Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets. 
Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”
Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit. 
You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.
A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix. 
It drives you insane. He drives you insane. 
“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes. 
“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.” 
“Idiot.”
“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.
As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.
“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.
“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”
His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world. 
Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.
Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.
“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”
“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”
He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth. 
Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”
But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.
Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.
The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-
Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.
Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.
Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows. 
Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.
With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.
You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence. 
Because right now, no words were needed.
“I love you.”
“And, I love you. In every universe.”
Except maybe those. 
It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air. 
“I win.”
An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.
You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”
A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.
“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”
“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”
“Jokes on you I’m into that.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“But you love it.”
“Unfortunately.”
---
Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers. 
So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?! 
His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?
Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange. 
Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!
“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” 
“...”
Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?
You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his. 
Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.
It was sort of addicting.
And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 
Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more. 
He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next? 
“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”
Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well? 
Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced. 
“The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”
Oh. This was going to be interesting.
Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”
Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart. 
He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous. 
It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?
Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate. 
Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.
The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed. 
Was that…a dream? 
It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity. 
You tasted so sweet.
Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination. 
Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.
“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.
“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.” 
Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.
A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.
“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”
Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”
You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his. 
Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.
“T-told you I was irresistible.” 
Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.
“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.
“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you. 
“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”
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A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?
Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!
Plagiarism not authorized. 
Taglist:
@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch
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hoshifighting · 14 days ago
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staff!jeonghan
WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.
staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.
he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”
but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him��no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.
fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.
then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.
he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”
and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.
jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.
“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.
he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”
he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.
but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.
jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.
you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”
“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.
it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.
when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.
like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.
“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”
you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”
“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”
he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”
you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”
next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.
you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.
“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.
“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.
he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”
you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”
he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.
“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”
you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”
jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y’know that?”
your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”
he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”
and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way—with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.
like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.
“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.
you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”
he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”
and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.
he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”
you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.
“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”
you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”
you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.
“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”
you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.
“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”
your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.
“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”
you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”
his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”
“good girl.”
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peachsukii · 9 months ago
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Bakugo hates Valentine's Day, but hates seeing you give everyone else one more during senior year. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 
"Happy Valentine's Day, Izu!" you cheer as your latching your arms around him for a hug. Izuku picks you up, spinning you around and sets you down gently.
Katsuki rolls his eyes at the sight. He knows you two are best friends. He knows you're also one of his best friends. Why's he so bothered about a damn hug?
"You too, y/n! Here, I got you a card." Izuku shuffles through his bag and turns back to hand you an All Might themed valentine with a piece of your favorite chocolate.
"Thank you! That's so sweet of you. Here, I got you one, too!" You say as you hand him a mini-pack of mochi and a Mount Lady themed valentine.
Returning to your backpack, you unload all the valentine's you prepared onto your desk. Katsuki turns his head up with a shocked expression, judging the pile of sweets and cards you've prepared.
"Damn, couldn't pick just one valentine?" He snarks, turning toward you in his seat and crossing his arms. Deep down, he hated that you had one for everyone when he wanted you to only care about him. But that's stupid, he knows how nice you are and love everyone in class.
"Just because you hate V-day doesn't mean everyone else does, Kat. I made one for everyone." You say as you resume organizing the valentine's on your desk.
Katsuki huffs and turns back to the window, hiding his disappointment. He would never vocalize that he wanted something from you - he's not some lovesick puppy.
Your desk is empty after making your rounds in the class, hand delivering all of the cards you made to each person. The only person who you didn't give one to?
Katsuki.
Once he realizes that you don't have any more, and he's still empty handed, he storms over to you.
"Hallway, now," Katsuki demands, grabbing you by the wrist and interrupting your conversation with Ochaco. You wave to her and mouth 'sorry!' in her direction as you're leaving the classroom.
"What the hell, y/n? Are you singlin' me out?" He growls, clearly upset by your exclusion. You sigh, knowing that this was exactly how this was gonna go.
"No, Kat. I didn't want to give you yours in front of everyone else."
He lets out a 'hah?' in confusion.
"I snuck it into your room before class. I know you don't care for all of that sappy shit, so I didn't want to put you on the spot," you explain, hands on your hips. "You think I'd forget your ass?"
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed that he assumed the worst of you. He doesn't say anything.
"It's whatever. Happy Valentine's Day, Katsuki."
After classes finish for the day, Katsuki books it back to his dorm room. He smacks the door open to see a card, little box, and some snacks on his bed. The box had a little mabo-tofu character keychain alongside a bag of his favorite spicy chips. The valentine was All Might themed, not surprising, but had a short little message on the back:
To Kat, you're dyna-might to me. :) ♡ y/n
He smiles to himself, placing the valentine on his dresser and popping open the bag of chips. Suddenly, his phone buzzes in his pocket from an incoming text message. It's a picture of flowers on the desk of your dorm room. "aw kat, this is so damn sweet. thank you! i love them. ♡"
"sure. don't think i don't pay attention when you tell me shit."
Turns out he never needed to be jealous in the first place.
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gingernut1314 · 4 months ago
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Touch Me and I'll Break Your Hand
Jotaro Kujo x GN!Reader
Summary: How part 3 Jotaro likes to be touched.
Warnings: Takes place during JJBA part 3, slight spoilers for the ending of JJBA part 3 (nothing really mentioned), threats to break hands, slight manhandling??, cuddles, misuse of Stands, struggle to show emotions, Joatro struggling with a bit of PTSD (I don't really go into it, just implied)
Word Count: HC: 1K , Drabbles: 440+ & 330, Total: 1.9K
A/N: I love him so yeah--I think it'll be fun to see how he changes in regards to touch during different parts!
Taglist: @cinnbar-bun @lostfirefly
↞ to Jjba Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠
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This guy is a big walking warning sign that glares “Do Not Touch”
You’ll go to touch him for the first time and he’ll grab your wrist faster than you can blink, his teeth bared and eyes full of icy murder
“Touch me and I’ll break your goddamn hand.” (Sigh….so romantic) 
No one touches him and you are included….for a time
You respect his boundaries
And you hold back your desire to touch him even when your fingers and heart itch to feel over his skin
But damn does he make it hard because why is he one of the clingiest assholes you’ve ever met?
He’ll grumble and huff and hiss at you to stop touching him
But then he’s got his hands on you like they might just be another part of him
Is his touch necessarily romantic in the typical sense?
Hell no
But he’ll be pushing you out of the way of danger or of someone not paying attention on the sidewalk
He’ll shove your head down in the heat of battle
He’ll wrap his body around you to shield you from harm
He’s grabbing your upper arm and guiding (pulling) you around
Grabbing the back of your neck to do the same thing
IF, and that’s a very big if, he grabs your hand it's gonna be a little too tight and it’s only going to happen so you don’t fall off a cliff or stumble into the road
He’ll brush his arm against yours, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, as you two walk side by side
You feel the chill of his fingers brush over yours as he passes you something
He is pretty much the decider on when the two of you touch
But he’ll allow you to pick his hat up during the rare moments it's knocked off
He’ll even let you put it back on (but if the other Crusaders are teasing him too much, his hat will be snatched from your hand and hand swatted away)
He lets you straighten his jacket and dust it off
He will grumble the whole time you do so
But guys he’s the biggest softy on the inside, it's a fact
And you know who the literal embodiment of his soul is?
Star Platinum 
Expect Star Platinum to actually be the clingiest 
like he beats Polnareff for the most sappy partner award
Star Platinum can almost always be found holding your hand, hugging you tight, and nuzzling his face into your neck
Get ready for kisses planted to your lips and cheeks and forehead from the Stand
Kisses you are unfortunately almost always knocked onto your ass by because the big guy doesn’t understand you can’t spot him as he’s whizzing up to you faster than any bullet
Platinum brings you little gifts he finds, holding your hands in his before revealing it to you
Jotaro hisses and snaps at his Stand to leave you the hell alone….but it doesn’t have any real bite to it
Because he can feel you through Platinum’s touches and it makes his stomach all fluttery like he’s some love-sick idiot
Jotaro watches as Star Platinum nuzzles your cheek with his nose, pulling a wonderful giggle from your lips. He grits his teeth in annoyance as he watches his Stand wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you off your feet like he’s an overgrown toddler. 
It was embarrassing. 
Jotaro had been able to gain complete and utter control over his Stand in the short time he appeared, yet here he was completely and utterly out of control of the damn thing. 
Jotaro thanked whatever god might be floating around up there that none of the other Crusaders were around to witness another one of Platinum's disturbances. To watch you run a hand over Platinum’s cheek and nuzzle him right back. 
Touches Joatro could feel ghosted over his skin. Touches he was growing more and more pissed off were being gifted to his fucking Stand. 
The line in the sand was when your lips pressed an overly, smooching kiss to Platinum’s cheek. It sent Jotaro into an angered frenzy. 
He stormed over, grabbing you a little too roughly out of Platinum’s grip and all but wrestling the damn thing to disappear back into himself. 
“Jotaro--he wasn’t doing anything--”
“Would you shut the hell up?” He hissed, grabbing your cheeks in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. You felt your breath halt in your throat at the beauty of Joatro's face. A beauty that only was amplified by his sharp, green eyes bearing down into you. “Platinum needs to learn some fucking manners.” And then he was letting you go. The absence of his strong hold and presence left you feeling a little disappointed, but you only smiled Joatro’s way teasingly.
“Oh…I see.” You murmured, crossing your arms behind your back as you turned on your heels, starting for the location where you were meant to meet the others. Joatro was quiet as you walked. Quiet until he was grabbing your upper arm and pulling you to a stop in a way that made your heart begin to flutter all over again. 
“See what?” He demanded, that ice beginning to fill his eyes. Ice and that look you had seen only moments ago. You smiled, bringing a hand up to smooth down his jacket which had gotten a little ruffled. 
“You’re just jealous of the poor lug,” Joatro growled, letting you go quickly. 
“Good freakin’ grief.” He huffed, pushing past you in a way that allowed his arm to brush along yours. You couldn’t help but giggle at him, quickening your pace so that you could walk beside him. To keep your arm brushing against his here and there. 
“Yep. Jealous.” 
If you are ever paired up with him and Kakyoin at a hotel, he’s going to be up in your grill and blame it on the close quarters (you all literally almost have a whole suite like--he can lie to himself but you see what he’s doing)
While you brush your teeth he’s going to brush his teeth and he’s going to have his chest pressed against your back to “let Kakyoin move around behind him” 
He’ll roughly scrub toothpaste off your lips if there is ever any and grumble about how messy you are 
Kakyoin doesn’t say much about the stolen touches he witnesses Jotaro give your way
He’ll just smile and chuckle softly (and definitely will throw you a thumbs up while Jotaro has his back turned)
A debate about who is sleeping where is going to happen and you're going to have to convince Jotaro to just sleep with you instead of on the floor
 Again, he’ll grumble out a “good grief” or two as he pulls himself into bed, arms crossed over his chest and back turned to you
But throughout the night, he’ll gruffly turn around
his leg will press against yours
His arms will uncross and his fingers will play with the edge of your shirt until he works up enough nerve to toss his arm around your waist
Then he’ll be shameless in tugging you against his chest and holding you protectively
His chin will rest on top of your head 
And with his new openness, you’ll be allowed to wrap your arms as best you can around his hulking form
Please run your fingers over his shoulders and back
Please wrap your legs around his
Pleaseeee run your fingers through his wavy hair and over his cheek
It’s the only time he’s going to let you touch him so blatantly so take as much of it as you can
He will fall asleep against your smoothing touches and unfortunately will become like a cinderblock 
Don’t expect to be able to escape his arms, I hope you used the bathroom before going to bed
You stir awake with a soft inhale of breath. Your body was held oh so tight against the solid form of Joatro, who you found once you fluttered your eyes open. A face so soft in the early hours of the morning and whose green eyes were already open and watching you. 
His eyes shifted from a look that was filled with such love it took your breath away back to their usual guarded hardness. You could only feel grateful you had been able to catch the look. One you so rarely saw but felt through his actions every day. 
“Morning.” You whispered softly, grip around his large frame growing tighter as you felt him begin to shift. You knew you would only get so many more seconds on this before he was rising from bed, grumbling about how clingy you were and clingy you would be until he did so. 
“You gonna let go?” He huffed, hands finding their way to your waist to shove you away. You shook your head, scooting ever closer. So close you could nuzzle your nose against his in a way that made him all but hiss. 
“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Kakyoin is still asleep, no one is gonna see me snuggling you.” You said quietly as to not wake your friend up in the other bed. Joatro said your name in warning, but you could tell he didn’t mean any of it. Not when he had stopped trying to pull you off of him, muscles relaxing as you splayed your fingers over his back. 
“Just a little longer…I’m still asleep, see.” You said, pretending to fall back asleep. Jotaro sighed through his nose but said nothing further. Said nothing as he rewrapped his arms back around you, pulling you tight against his chest. 
“Five more minutes and that’s it.” You smiled against the gray shirt he wore, breathing in his scent as you savored every last bit of this you could. 
You two will only kiss in private 
Like far away from the other Crusaders and behind a locked door private
He will not be caught kissing you at this stage in his life 
It’s not because of you at all (though sometimes it can feel like it), it’s because he’s honestly so nervous and trying to keep his tough guy “I don’t give two shits” persona up
And while he’s kissing you, even if it's a simple kiss to the cheek, he can’t promise himself that persona isn’t going to slip
After the events with DIO and his Stand Users, Jotaro has changed
You all have
He’s seen death--been death
So expect him to hold your hand now
Expect him to hold your hand and hold you close so that he can keep you safe
Expect hugs that could last hours while no one is looking
Expect to wipe burning tears that somehow escape his eyes away from his flushing cheeks as he tries to keep himself composed--to not think of everything that had happened in Egypt
Will call you in the middle of the night and beg you in his own, gruffingly unique way to come over so that he can sleep next to you (But expect to wake up before the sun ever rises and get kicked out so his mother doesn’t find out)
He’ll let you touch him whenever you wish now
You’ll be able to rub his back and caress his cheeks and brush that strand of hair out of his eyes
Your touch helps keep him grounded and in this reality
Helps him remember that you are still alive 
Will still 100% grumble and keep that tough persona up (might even bat your hand away but there is no backing to it at all, just a reflex)
But you get away with much much more now
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whitefeathers · 4 months ago
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Anon because I’m shy as hell lol but big fan of how you write daddy!butcher because YOU KNOW he gets off on the idea of being like a protector/knight in shining armor. Like he’s gonna be damn sure that you’re safe, even if he gets a wee bit banged up.
dont be shy sweetheart i will NEVER judge u !
also THANK YOU you get it … daddy!butcher is a very very specific guy and honestly? I think he’s pretty much canon, we know he’s got major daddy issues and we know he’s a protector (in his own fucked up way)… it just makes SENSE for him to be a daddy dom !!
more thoughts below the cut - tw for pseudocest/ddlg , daddy!butcher, and daddy issues
he wants so desperately to protect. that’s all he’s ever wanted deep down, even if he thinks he wants revenge or violence or whatever. He’s a rough bastard so all that soppy shite comes out as aggression, but deep deep down he is a protector at his core, and needs to be someone’s knight in shining armor.
When you walk into his life you’re so pure, untainted by the violence and aggression he’s so used to. There’s no greater agenda, no malice to you - you’re just a normal girl, a good girl. That’s not to say you have no personality to you - Billy loves how cheeky you can get, and how sassy you are - but you’re just a good little sweetheart at your core, wanting to be happy and make others happy. That’s part of why Billy’s obsessed with you. You’re just so sweet.
He naturally takes on a parental role in your life, being many years your senior and the leader of his group. Don’t stare at ya phone so much, gonna give yaself a headache. Don’t stay up too late, need a good night’s kip or you’ll be a grumpy cunt tomorrow.
Little things, inconsequential things, that show he cares enough about you to order you around.
He’s sweeter on you than anyone else in his life, letting you hog the hot water in the shower every morning and pretending to be full so you can finish his dessert. He always covers up his kindness with some sort of quip - “ya need the hot water, you smell diabolical,” - but you know it’s because he likes you. The thought alone makes you blush.
He finds out about all the terrible shit your father put you through one night when you’re sharing a bottle of cheap vodka together, just the two of you.
He tells you about his own sperm donor, and laments about how he’s always wanted to be someone’s father figure, their knight in shining armor. He doesn’t mention how it gets him off to have that much control, but not in a clinical way like being a master or a sir. Being a daddy is different. It’s warm, caring, corrupted. It’s a complete control and a complete care that would prove Butcher as the capable, fucked up hero he’s always been.
“That generational trauma bollocks, innit? Want to right the wrongs of me old man. Somethin’ so nice about bein’ a daddy. I’d be fucked though,” he takes a swig from the bottle straight, only wincing slightly before putting it back down on the table and letting his eyes flicker to you. He speaks with drunken candour.
“Always wanted a little girl to take care of, little girlfriend to be mine. Same soft tone of voice when she begs for more cock as when she begs for more sappy fuckin’ cuddles.”
Your heart thuds in your chest. This is all you have ever wanted, all you have ever needed. And Butcher, the hottest older man you’ve ever met, his beard greying and his eyes stern, is basically offering it to you if you’re brave enough to read into the subtext of his words.
“I’ve always wanted to be that,” you whisper. There’s words unspoken in your sentence - always wanted to be that, for you, with you - but the subconscious way you lean closer to Butcher tells him the words you aren’t brave enough to speak.
“That so?” He hums, opening his thick arms for you. An opening, an opportunity for you to take, to cuddle into his chest and let him take control. You look up at him, scared as a deer in headlights but as excited as a puppy in heat, needing the extra guidance, the approval.
“Don’t be shy. Come to daddy.”
When your head meets his chest and your ass meets his lap, all the constant noise in your head dulls into a peaceful silence. His arms wrap around you and he pets your hair, shushing you gently, promising he’s going to keep you out of danger no matter how bloody his knuckles have to get in the process.
This is how it’s always meant to be between the pair of you.
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aimedis · 4 months ago
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redacted asmr headcanons pt.4
-empowereds and demons at any minor inconvenience: "meridian, destroy me"
-darlin’ loves accusing sam of shit he never did or said (darlin’: “didn’t you say you wanted to go back to mount blanc?” sam: “darlin’ those words have literally never left my mouth.”)
-angel is korean (and so is guy because they're 100% twins) ((damien is also korean))
-honey has little moments of being clingy with guy but in the way that they just like to hold him and tell him that they love him without snarky comments (they claim they can’t do it all the time because them being mean to him is to keep the world in balance) 
-lasko has a chronic fear of men
-lasko is the kind of ticklish where if you even mention tickling he gets freaked out (damn squad uses it as a way to get him to shut up)
-when sweetheart got to take milo home after the inversion, they kept their hand on his chest as often as possible to remind themself that he was still alive
-likewise, baabe could only fall asleep if they had their head on asher's chest for months after the inverson
-freelancer and dear have little water fights during pool parties at damien and huxley's house (coworker always wins)
-lovely cannot drive with sam in the car because he’d start having heart palpitations for 23 different reasons 
-darlin’ ‘hardass’ tank whining at their mate every other sentence and pouting at him when they’re at home 
-guy physically can’t handle it when honey flirts back with him or initiates any affection, he gets very very flustered and his eloquence flies out the window (guy’s face blowing up red and honey laughing at him)
-whenever asher and david get a little too touchy or sappy, darlin’ and milo chime in with a “are y’all fucking? be honest.” (their mates find it funny as hell)
-damien would never admit it out loud but he loves temple kisses (huxley knows and gives them to him all the time)
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greenandsorrow · 4 months ago
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I'm really curious about how you think Alastor would handle a deaf sinner (revenge plot gone horribly wrong). The reader is staying at the hotel.. actually, it'll probably be challenging for everyone! Reader (f/gn) can read lips fairly well, but when Alastor does the whole "face made for radio," shtick his mouth doesn't move.. can't be threatened if you dont know what's said. It looks weird, though! Reader uses a phone to communicate mostly due to convenience, doesn't use signs because deafness comes as a bonus with death, also carries a pen but rarely paper so ends up writing notes on arms. Habits that linger from life are low self esteem covered masterfully with sass and sarcasm, humming and singing to themselves, remembering perfect pitches and how they felt to sing, can also match pitch by matching a vibration and drumming or tapping hands when needing to focus or is anxious.
Platonic relationships all round, not looking for romance here, just a place to belong for a bit, familial/sibling ribbing and sass!
I'm sorry in advance if it is a lot, but you do ask for details!
"This face was made for radio."
The Hazbins with a deaf!sinner!reader
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You'll never forget the day you landed in Pentagram City. The world around you on mute... It will always stay carved in your memory... the way you had screamed until your throat ached and then had come to the conclusion that even though your voice worked fine, your ability to hear hadn't come with you to the afterlife.
Your sass did save you on multiple occasions that your lack of hearing left you with double the insecurity you carried from your days on Earth. The good news is that, eventually, you learnt to read lips and use your phone to communicate, making your afterlife a bit safer and easier.
However, some -Charlie- would say that your biggest achievement is willingly asking for residence at the "Happy Hotel"! It was a welcoming change to the constant battle of survival, that the streets of the City of the Damned are.
You have your own room and belongings. You have access to food and even made... friends. With your little notepad and pen you scribble your thoughts and answers when interacting with them. In all honesty, you like your new neighbours more than you ever thought you would.
And the feeling is mutual amongst y'all.
You enjoy how Charlie is always putting on a show and how she sings more than she talks. Not only that, but she makes sure to let you know how impressive it is that you can match the rhythm of her songs, by tapping your fingernails on your notepad.
Vaggie makes an effort so you're always safe and that was before you even got close. She's a bit overprotective in your opinion, but then again... kindness in Hell is scarce and more than appreciated.
Seriously though, you're not handicapped, but it's no use explaining it to her.
Even the famous Angel Dust speaks slower when addressing you. Just like Vaggie, he's protective of you. It's rare for Angel to try to not make a fellow sinner uncomfortable.
In a way, the spider demon has adopted you and Niffty, concerning himself with your wellbeing. You want something but don't have your pen on you? He's willing to play pantomime just to make sure he can provide it to you.
And then there's Husk. The bartender is surprisingly gentle when it comes to you. Caution mixed with fondness. He doesn't mind that you speak too loudly in the rare occasions you use your voice. He doesn't mind having to wait for you to write down your jokes. He actually enjoys your company more than he lets on.
Just a detail, you became part of the crew around the same time Sir Pentious did. Consequently, in the beginning you two kind of stuck together, both seen as newbies.
You're so grateful for how he still washes your arms from the ink of your trusty pen.
To put it into a few words, all families are colorful and yours is no exception. Dysfunctions, disagreements and some sappiness are all part of your every day life. But the Hazbin Hotel has become your home and that's all that matters.
Noticed how I overlooked a very special sinner??
Yep. That's right. Alastor.
The radio demon didn't pay you much attention when you first moved in. You have come to the conclusion that your lack of hearing just underwhelmed him.
He's the radio demon. Sound is his weapon and you're immune to it.
Obviously, his animated personality didn't go unnoticed to your observant eyes. Still, the old radio effect of his voice, the static he produces and all those flamboyant aspects of him are thrown out of the window when it comes to you.
He can't intimidate you. Not that he's tried. Not yet.
You have kept to yourself and maybe even subconsciously avoided him during your settlement in the hotel. It's not out of fear. But what fun is a fellow sinner that speaks more than he moves his mouth? Thank Lucifer he's expressive, otherwise he'd be muter to you than you're to yourself.
And that permanent grin doesn't help either. You've discreetly been relying on his shadow's expressions to make out what's going on in his antlered head.
Today is no different.
He's just stranding there. Black cane, an ignorant and simultaneously arrogant aura, the same infuriating smile and Pentious's egg-bois around him.
Meanwhile, you're sitting in the lounge, inspecting a very 2000's looking camera. It's a way to kill time, watching your surroundings through the lens. At some point the camera lands on Alastor's figure.
It immediately starts glitching.
You burrow your eyebrows in confusion. When you look again, Alastor isn't where he was a few seconds ago.
You sigh.
"What do you think you're doing there, dear?"
Silence. No reaction. You keep looking through the camera at the place Alastor occupied just a few moments ago.
Alastor narrows his eyes. He's standing almost next to you.
But of course you didn't hear him.
The intensified static in his voice... wasted.
He clears his throat loudly, but to no avail.
Eventually, he gives in and taps your shoulder. You blink, lowering the camera to your lap and looking up at him, head slightly tilted.
Taking in your expression, Alastor secretly enjoys the animated scrunch of your brows, a clear indication of confusion.
He's not saying anything, so you shrug to yourself and absentmindedly focus the camera on him once more.
Alastor's eyes narrow with a sadistic glee as the camera suddenly breaks, fume coming out of it, the lens now cracked. You drop it, a bit startled but not on the degree he was hoping.
You don't bother standing up but you do glare at him in exasperation.
"Well, well... Aren't you a brave one?"
Finally! Something you can make out coming from his razor sharp jaws.
You pop the lid off your pen, but before you have time to write "What's that supposed to mean?" on your arm, he has already dimmed the lights and leaned down so he's at eye level with you.
"Let me tell you something while we're at it."
His neck bends unnaturally and his eyes turn black. It's not exactly a sight to enjoy, but it doesn't matter since you're too focused on trying to read his lips.
"This face was made f......"
For?
For what?
What could it have been made for?
His mouth stopped pronouncing the words before the sentence was finished, so it's not your fault that you're chuckling now.
Alastor's chest literally deflates at your reaction.
His ears droop.
It wasn't even full on laughter but his pride took a big hit.
While he's frozen in shock at your lack of fear, you finally scribble down at the back of your hand "Was made for what?"
You extend your hand for him to read with an apologetic gaze. He does look kind of wounded.
Alastor takes in your words and accepts that you didn't laugh at him on purpose. Not to humiliate him at least.
Placing a gloved finger under your chin, he makes you look at his face before speaking slowly, moving his lips almost comically.
"This face was made for ra- di- o."
You let out an "oh" of realization.
Your eyes have a new light of interest in them as you write down your answer.
"I used to listen to that, when I was alive."
"Mhm, that's a pleasant piece of information my dear!"
From that day on, every time before he broadcasts, he makes sure to give you his notes to read, even making them more elaborate just for you.
For him, the only downside of your loss of hearing is not being able to enjoy his radio show.
At least you now get along.
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Hazbin Hotel masterlist ❤️
Tips are highly appreciated! (PayPal)
Shout-out to @buggieluv79 for helping me with the deaf POV 💌 I also want to point out the fact that the wonderful being that made this request is both kind and patient, having waited three months for me to write this and supporting me in the process❣️
I'm open to writing for a deaf!reader again, whether you want it to be the same person we met in this fic or a different one. (Wait till reqs open again please!)
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getodrools · 9 months ago
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Your hand plowed through thick raven hair – the ends detangling at the sharp tug. Suguru kept his breath steady and gave you that level, dark-eyed gaze defensive players all over the league had learned to dread, “You just can't stay mad at me for too long huh.” His teeth are pearly white, and that lady killer grin irked the hell out of you.
“Oh shut up…” You giggle at the truth.
Tossing your head back as he nips along your collarbone, you whisper, “Y’know… you seriously didn't need to tackle Gojo so hard—you broke his nose and damn near fractured your skull!”
Getou shakes his head.
“He should keep his head in the game then. That sonavabitch’ had his nose all up in your skirt baby.” Your boyfriend grunted with that long drawl you always seem to shiver at.
Sighing, he hooks a finger around that very pitch black and purple sparkled skirt that had his team's logo shimmering on it. You nibble at your bottom lip, his touch was warm but…,
“Maybe ‘cause… I wasn't wearing any—!”, Should've known a linebacker like him was strong, “You what?!” Giggling and begging for his hands to give your hips freedom from their teasing pinches, Getou just needed to see this with his very own eyes.
You had to be teasing him.
Gojo was gazing in pure awe…
Though it was dark in the field, you could swear those hues held galaxies as they trekked down an expedition between your bodies. Shivering, his free hand flips the thin fabric over in certain desire. Free from a soft barrier, he catches sappy slick webbing lewdly between the heat of your legs.
His jaw tightens.
With the situation entirely worse now! It itched something in him fully knowing why Gojo was annoyingly closer to your squad than usual… your dirty little secret was more on his mind than Suguru coming at him full force—for something he thought else of—‘til he knocked them both breathless! Though the bones Getou got to crush ‘fairly’ during the match, it bugged at him—still and again, even now worse.
Getou’s nose curls up, you're so damn foolish sometimes! And he just can't seem to stay mad at you for too long either… you do feel warm against the pads of his hooking hands—!… All you knew was cheer! Kicking a leg up with a hoot and a holler made you smile. But damn you could still be so clueless even in that! Even wondering now if that cheap play to tackle him with a few strands of hair being pulled out after a dog pile was rubbing salt on the wound — as if Gojo knew he scored some way or the other, regardless of losing the game...
Sonavabitch’. Catching the glisten, he certainly would have to worry about that golden boy's pretty blue eyes rather than just a nosey snout now since you're cursed with the brain of a thoughtless puppy…
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<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE GETOU –>
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cyberpersonstranger · 4 months ago
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𝑲𝑨𝑻𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑰 𝑩𝑨𝑲𝑼𝑮𝑶
𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺 !💥! 𝑮.𝑵 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹
𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪/𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋. 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪. 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾
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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂/𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋↴
I think this whole fandom agrees Katsuki is a damn good cook. His specialty foods are omurice and karaage, but he makes amazing soups too. If you ever ask for any of his recipes he'll deny you all the way, but if you ask him to MAKE you something he'll agree after a bit of convincing.
"Tch. Fine dumbass, you're cleaning the mess though."
Constantly cracking his knuckles and neck. He doesn't care who it's in front of or who likes it and who doesn't. He'd prefer doing it in front of people who dislike it though, he enjoys making them annoyed or pissed off. If you ask him about it he'll respond as if everyone cracks their knuckles and neck as much as he does.
"What, do you not crack your fucking knuckles like a normal person?"
Definitely the type of person to fight over who plays aux whilst being in the car. Unless someone has similar music taste to him if anyone dares to even touch the aux he'll start yelling, maybe even making small explosions. I can see him listening to 90s-early 2000s nu metal or rock, most likely I.C.P or Limp Bizkit, possibly Slipknot.
"Start playing Limp Bizkit or else I'll explode you all the way to hell."
If you and Katsuki share the same costume design company (meaning you'll share with Uraraka too) he'll most likely try to boast to you about how much better his costume is. His equipment? Oh so much better, so much more helpful compared to yours. The design? Cooler too, much more awesome than yours.
"Pff my gauntlets are more badass than whatever the hell you have going on."
If you purposely try to get his attention by touching him he'll swat at you. If you even TAP his shoulder prepare for a nice hit on your wrist before you can even take your finger off him. Touching his back to let him know your presence will earn you a hit too, most likely a harsher hit.
"Don't touch me. Idiot."
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𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 ↴
If you read the platonic hcs, once you start dating Katsuki you quickly learn why he doesn't like being touched, even if it's subtle. He's embarrassed about how much his body sweats because of his quirk and trust me, he'd never ever admit it. You begin picking up on this when you learn he showers multiple times a day. and when he's constantly wiping his hands off with an ashamed look on his face. Even while in a relationship he isn't too keen about being a touched.
"Yeah I shower 3 times a day, so what."
He's the biggest show off you'll ever date. He just got done stretching? He's crossing his arms in that black tank-top, flexing his biceps to you. He's training with you and Midoriya? He's quick to show off his quirk abilities and even quicker sending Midoriya to Recovery Girl. He's prideful about it too, he'll definitely say something if you just stare at him while he's showing off.
"You like my biceps eh? You're eyeing them like you're gonna fucking eat me."
Katsuki is far from being the best at words, and with him not easing in to touch until later in the relationship it's difficult for him to show he appreciates and loves you. He tries to show his appreciation by gift giving. His parents are both loaded, I mean have you seen the Bakugo home? If you mention something expensive you've been wanting he's fast to make sure it's in your hands by the end of the week. If you say you like his yummy food he's suddenly cooking you dinners a few times a week.
"I uh.. made you some miso soup. Here moron."
He actually tries to be nicer to you compared to how he treats Kirishima and the others. Nothing too sappy, maybe a "you look.. nice?" here and there. If you end up smiling from his attempts he's quick to get both defensive and possibly even flustered.
"Why're you smiling at me like that!? That was barely a compliment!"
Sometimes you'll catch him staring at you. While staring, he wonders how you deal with his temper, how snarky he is, how unaffectionate he can be. Once you notice his stare he quickly looks away. If you ask about his glare he'll deny it through and through.
"No I wasn't staring at you, idiot. You're going crazy."
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𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 ↴
𝐓𝐖𝐬: nsfw obviously, CHARACTER AGED UP, praise kink
Despite his tough ass demeanor I feel like Katsuki's a rather caring lover during intimacy. He's always making sure you like what he's doing and makes sure you're okay. Even if you're a babbling wreck he still wants to make sure he doesn't make you uncomfortable.
"This okay with you?" (He's says as he's just pressing gentle kisses against your neck.)
He's not very vocal whatsoever. Going down on his pretty cock? He's biting back moans and only allowing very quiet whimpers to come out of his lips. Taking it so well as he pounds into you? He's stopping himself from groaning by kissing you with such desire. If you tell him it's okay and you want him to be vocal he'll shake his head and deny you.
"No screw that! Moaning is for weaklings I don't need to be loud as hell just to fuck you. "
Katsuki loves praise while in bed. He want's to know he's doing good, he wants to know and that nobody else can make you feel the way he makes you. If you praise him enough he'll roughen up his pace just a bit. Okay, maybe a lot. Praise really gets him going.
"Tell me I'm fucking you nicely, just tell me I'm good god dammit!"
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I apologize for the NSFW section, I'm not the best writer for that subject. I hope you guys enjoy this because I'm debating on doing Amajiki or Kaminari next lmao.
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slayfics · 5 months ago
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You get jealous when Katsuki talks about Burnin.
600 words
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Internships started back up and they were even more challenging than last time. The pro heroes had a good idea of what your classes could handle now, so the training was even more intense.
After the past days of non-stop hero work, your body collapsed into bed. You didn't think your bed had ever felt so comfortable.
You wondered if your other classmates' internships were as strenuous. Katsuki's at least had to be, after all, he was interning at Endeavor's.
You reached for your phone to send him a text.
[You] Hey, how is your internship going? [Katsuki] Awful. I'm losing my goddamn mind here. [You] Oh shit- what's going on?
Your phone rang as a call from Katsuki came through. Eagerly you answered.
"Hey," you greeted him.
"Fucking hate texting," he stated.
"I know," you chuckled. "So, what happened?" you asked.
"Had dinner at Endeavor's house the other day," he mumbled into the phone.
"What!? How was that?!" You asked.
"Fucking weird- they got a lot of family drama. It was stupid to bring me and Deku into it. Fucking rude not to keep your shit together when ya got guests. HA! And I thought my family had problems," he said.
"That bad, hu? Come on tell me the details, what were they fighting about?" You pleaded.
"Tch- you're nosey as hell ya know that? What the hell do you care anyway?" He asked.
"Endeavor is the number one hero now! It's- interesting to hear that his family life is trash when his career is so good," you explained.
"Yeah- sounds like that's what the problem is. He was an absent father I guess... I don't know- it's not my damn business and I don't care about that crap. I'm here to get stronger not fucking be on a drama show," Katsuki spoke.
"He taught you anything good yet?" You asked.
Katsuki grunted into the phone, "Nah- we've been having to try and beat him to the scene of a villain. But- he's so goddamn fast it pisses me off- and then that damn sidekick of his gets on my fucking nerves."
"What's he like?" You asked wanting to hear more about Endeavor's sidekick.
"She," Katsuki corrected you. "Fucking annoying. She's a strong hero I guess but she's too damn loud all the time."
"Oh.... what does she look like?" You asked, trying to keep the growing insecurity out of your voice.
"Hah? Why? What the hell does that matter?" Katsuki asked confused by your question.
"I'm just curious," you lied.
"It's Burnin' you've probably seen her in the news before, she's a pretty famous sidekick... Wait- are you jealous or something?" Katsuki asked, picking up on the tone in your voice.
"What!? No!" You exclaimed into the phone, but it was too late. Katsuki had picked up on your insecurity.
"I already told ya she's damn annoying, didn't I?" Katsuki said, his way of saying you were dumb for feeling insecure about the sidekick.
"Yeah, but you say that about everyone," you pointed out.
"That's not true," Katsuki challenged you. "I... don't say that about your ass," he mumbled voice lower than before.
Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you shifted in bed. "I miss you," you said, your voice equally as low.
"Tch- don't press your luck... You ain't getting that sappy shit out of me," he grumbled voice rough again. "It's getting late, we should rest."
"Yeah," you agreed hesitantly. He was right you both had to be up early tomorrow to be back at internships, but you didn't want to hang up.
"I'll talk to ya later," he said and paused for a moment before continuing. "I... guess I miss you too or whatever. Good night." He concluded and hung up before you could make any remarks on his sentimental words.
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sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99 @jays-adventure3
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aethien11-blog · 1 month ago
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NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. (Also, I’m a sappy, silly, dork at times. Sorry not sorry.) I took some liberties when it came to JJK as I’ve only seen the two seasons on crunchy roll and kinda ran with it. Sorry if that’s upsetting.
The boys reactions to learning their s/o has been kidnapped
Fem Reader x : Sakuna, Megumi, Nanami, Itadori
WARNINGS: use of ‘naughty words’, mentions of blood, rape, mutilation, death, violence, and possible spoilers.
RYOMEN SUKUNA
The King of Curses was phased by nothing. Your presence (or lack of) wasn’t that important. He could go a day without you, without thinking of you.
Ryomen snarled. And yet here he was again for the fifth time this hour wondering how much longer you planned to take. Just how long did humans need to visit family for anyway? What was so damned special about it? 
“Great One!” Uraume immediately knelt beside him. 
“Uraume?” His four eyes blinked once before, “Where is y/n? Waiting my room?” It was a pleasant thought but his battle instinct said otherwise. 
“Forgive me, Great One. Lady y/n,” Uraume stiffened.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he snarled.
“Forgive my error. Lady y/n was taken, my Lord.”
“Taken?”
Maybe it was fear, maybe a blush that lit Uraume’s face. “Yes. Lady- lady y/n sent me away briefly so she could speak with her family. Apparently, I make them uncomfortable.” It was only a moment but it felt like an eternity passed before she spoke again. “I should have sensed it. I apologize for my error, Great One.” “What are you yapping about? And where is she?” Ryomen roared. 
It was impossible to still the tremble that shot through her body. “I don’t know where she is, Lord Sukuna. Only that she sent me away. I stepped to the door, heard something, turned and she was gone. Every member of her family were slaughtered in that moment.” Uraume trembled again. “I don’t know, my Lord.”
“Her body was not among the dead?” It didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t say that. His chest just moved weird when he asked. It wasn’t like his heart could actually hurt over this.
“She was not, my Lord.”
“Hm. I should have figured. You would have brought me a corpse at least, if that were the case.” 
“Your trust is flattering, my Lord.”
“Hmph. Find out who took her and what they want. You have one day.”
“My lord.” Uraume disappeared from his sight quickly then.
Yes. It didn’t matter if you were gone a whole day. He wouldn’t allow it to affect him but hell was coming for the creature that disrupted his plans for the evening. 
*******************************************
“Wow. I’ve seen stupid before, but you’re something else.”
“Ssshhh ut up, human.” The creature’s hissing speech was irritating enough but if this thing thought it stood a chance. “Or I’ll shh, cut out that ssstupid tongue.”
You giggle. “As if. Lord Sukuna will turn you into kibble.” Briefly you scrunch your brows before wondering out loud, “I wonder if Uraume has fed his pets yet today.”
A blade appeared, pressed to your lips. “Sssssh ut it!”
You can’t help but smile and lick the flat of it. “You don’t stand a chance.”
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
“Why are we being called in?” Megumi asked in his usual uninterested tone.
“The higher ups have a stick up their ass and they want us to pull it out…probably,” Gojo sniped before finishing with a grin. 
Megumi rolled his eyes. One day, his teacher was going to step too far and those same higher ups were likely to come down on him but today wasn’t the day…probably.
The doors came open as Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, and Saturo stepped close. “There is no time for greetings. Seat yourselves and let’s begin.”
“Well, nice to see you too,” Saturo Gojo sniped with a smile. “Whaddya got for us?”
Heavy sighs echo through the small room before a woman’s voice said, “Watch.” On a screen on the side of the room, a newscast was being played.
As soon as the reporter switched to the scene behind them, three sets of eyes turned to Megumi. He didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to yours looking up him through the screen. 
To say Megumi was used to loss was fairly accurate. He accepted loss was a part of every mission and pretty much expected it… but that was no excuse for you to go and get yourself captured by curse user. 
The demands were that one person alone was to deliver their required ransom for you (another cursed object that should never leave the school) or they would turn you into their newest curse. Worse, they made the demand publicly, ensuring the higher ups couldn’t just sweep their request (and you) under the rug. 
What none of them expected was that Megumi would volunteer to be the one to deliver their ransom. Or that he would have a plan to get you back without having to give up the cursed item.
********************************************************
These fuckers were in for a hell of a surprise. You weren’t worth anything and you knew it. Just some orphan left in the care of the state to manage a life that had thus far amounted to little. For fuck sake, you only graduated high school last year and who in their right mind tries to take a cafe barista as a hostage. These guys were nuts. 
But hearing what they demanded and their threats just riled you. No, you weren’t worth some great value but you’d be damned if they were doing a single thing to you without a fight. 
KENTO NANAMI
The steady clack of keys on keyboards was near deafening as the entire office echoed it. Blank faces stared at bright screens as the sun sank behind the horizon. Another day of boring repetitive garbage. 
Nanami stood from his desk, collecting his things in his usual slow and perfectly controlled manner. At least y/n should be ready by the time he got there. He had worked a little late, but then, you usually took an extra minute to close up shop. 
Nanami smiled to himself as he lifted his briefcase and slid his laptop in. You always made him a special set of bread as the last one of the day so it would be fresh and warm even after you both got back to his apartment. Maybe he should ask, no no. He shook his head and set his usual expressionless face back in place. No need to think of that right now.
Kento set his briefcase in the back seat before sliding into his car and starting it. Safer that way. You had a tendency to ‘chuck it’ into the back seat if it were in your way. The edges of his mouth curled into a smile. Anyone else and he would have been ticked about tossing an expensive laptop about like that but when you did it, it was cute. And even if it weren’t, the grin you give him after certainly was.
He barely managed to get the grin back under control by the time he was pulling up to your shop only to freeze as he parked. The glass door was shattered, the shop inside showing obvious signs of a struggle. 
Nanami felt like his blood was pumping through his body at several miles a minute then. On the outside, Kento was entirely calm as he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his car. Only those that knew him would notice the difference. The way his fists tightened, the set of his jaw, or the measured gait he adopted as he stepped through the broken entrance. 
His eyes scanned the scene and picked up the single scrawled note with ease. 
“Want her, come get her.”
The paper crumpled in his fist before he shifted his attention to tracing the energy. They would pay for making him work overtime.
****************************************************
Much as you would love to (continue to) tell these guys off, one of them had already stuffed a sock in your mouth and duct taped it there. That didn’t really stop you though as you continued to hurl insults through your gag.
“Geez. If this guy doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna kill the broad just to shut her up,” one of your captors grumbled. 
“Mmm mmnnnm mmm mm.” Your attempted snarl did little through your gag, and it wasn’t like you could fight back now. These jerks may be asses but they knew how to tie knots. Between the chafing on your upper arms and wrists, you had tested every way you could think of to get loose and were only too glad you had worn pants today instead of a skirt. 
YUJI ITADORI
Having adopted his mentor's distaste for meetings, Yuji trudged into the room with a heavy sigh. “Do we have to?” he whined.
You could just give up control and I could kill them all, Sukuna suggests amiably but Yuji ignores him.
Nobara slaps the back of his head. “You already know the answer to that. Sit down.”
Megumi barely managed not to smile before taking his seat. He blinked owlishly for a moment before the friendly wave confirmed his suspicion. “You’re here too?”
Yuta smiled. “Yeah. I’ll let them explain everything.”
“Must be pretty big if they called both of you here,” Yuji said with a grin as he looked between Yuta and Gojo. 
“You know it. Three first years are missing after being sent in and we’re going to go save them,” Gojo stated.
Sighs echo around the room. “Let’s begin the actual mission brief.” All eyes shifted to the screen. Typed out quickly was the message from Tengen. “Earlier this morning, three first year Jujutsu students, Eimo Makito, Rugi Kamisari, and y/n, were accompanied by two third years, Panda and Toge Inumaki, to subdue or suppress whatever was causing the disappearances over Lake Tazawa’s area. The reported incidents originally listed this as a Class 3 curse at best, but with our newest information, we believe there may be more than one special grade at work, making it appear lower to continue to deceive us. We can no longer rule it out.”
Yuji had stopped reading at your name and his eyes were glued to it until Megumi elbowed him lightly to draw his attention back to the meeting. 
You’re okay, right? This doesn’t mean you're dead. Just that….you’re missing.
“We currently do not know if any of the students are alive or not. The veil we placed has been encompassed by a stronger one and we have no way to get information in or out.”
“So we’re going in blind. My specialty,” Gojo stated with a grin.
Yuta chuckled beside him. “We can handle this-”
“I’m coming too,” Yuji shouted and everyone stilled before Gojo’s chuckle released some of the tension in the room. 
“Plan to be a knight and go save your princess?”
“It’s not just about y/n,” Yuji stated, though his blushing ears decried otherwise. “Panda and Toge are there too. We have to save them if we can.”
“You know they might already be dead.” Gojo just wanted to make sure it was clear, that Yuji wasn’t holding out hope on this one.
“I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Gre-at,” Megumi sighed and face palmed. “It's the detention center all over again.”
“Sorry, Itadori,” Yuta began. “But you can’t-”
“I’m coming too,” Yuji repeated. 
“Nuh-uh, kid,” Gojo said standing up. “I’ll let you come with us, but you are staying out side the barrier, you understand. You want to make sure everyone is safe, that’s fine. But you will keep yourself and Sukuna out of that barrier, clear?”
Despite the blindfold being on, Yuji could feel the blue eyes of his teacher boring into him. 
Finally he sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll wait outside the barrier. But,”
“No buts, or you're not going and I’ll leave you chained up here.”
Yuji’s silence to follow was taken for acquiescence. 
*****************************************************
You blink your eyes open to an unfamiliar sight. The barrier above you seems almost black and the shimmering in it makes you want to vomit after looking at it for a moment. Like staring at trees outside a moving car window. You roll and tuck your left arm up. You're able to move it but the bone in your forearm is definitely broken. 
Your eyes land on Panda as you sit up. “How’s he doing?” you whisper through the pain. 
Panda smiles sadly at you. “He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit to get his throat to stop bleeding.”
“I’m sorry, Toge.”
Toge shook his head and smiled sadly at you. “Bonito flakes.” It even sounded choked and you felt your eyes water. He must be in incredible pain. 
You three were lucky. Eimo and Rugi weren’t as fortunate. You had to come up with some kind of plan to get out of here, but if these two didn’t have anything how could you?
“Fuck!” you curse under your breath.
“Salmon.” 
That at least got you to smile and you can tell that was his intention. You would get out of this. Together.
Again a quick and sincere thank you to Miss Vry (@vrystalius) for helping me with tags :D
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themultifanshipper · 5 months ago
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ok hi hello i have a little bit of a switch up ask for u 👉👈 could u mayhaps do a lil oscar thing that's just stupid cute angst where the reader is having some self esteem issues and oscar notices bc he's staying with lando in monaco after the race and them + some friends are planning on going out to what happens to be readers favorite club or bar but reader isn't feeling it. oscar immediately cancels and stays at landos n just. comfort fluffy bullshit please i beg <3
also pls flood my inbox with thots/requests bc i will be flying home from seoul tomorrow and i need shit to do on the plane pls and thank u
Made it a bit smutty at the end bc that’s what I do, yanno?
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Warnings: bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, smut at the end, friends to lovers type shenanigans.
You were excited at first, going out to your favorite club, with your favourite boys, in your favourite city.
You and Oscar were staying at Lando’s flat in Monaco, excitedly getting ready to go out when everything started to go wrong, bit by bit.
Your hair wasn’t laying how you liked it and it frustrated the hell out of you. It had been fine all week and now suddenly, on the night you knew there would probably be cameras around, it was being a bitch.
Then there was the outfit. Oscar had picked it out for you, and it was truly gorgeous, but you weren’t convinced you would do it justice, especially if your damn hair was going to be a catastrophe, along with your skin that had suddenly decided to become oily as fuck.
Then there was the sight of your body as you passed the mirror. It wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but you had eaten a big meal earlier so you felt a bit bloated, your mind exaggerating the barely-there bulge that Oscar insisted nobody (including him) would notice. But you weren’t a skinny, hairless, bronze goddess of a model, like most of the women they frequented, and you knew the media would pick you to pieces if you didn’t look perfect for the cameras.
So you started to spiral, and locked yourself in the bathroom.
You had no idea how much time passed until Oscar inevitably came knocking.
“I can’t go out Oscar!” You called out in a shaky voice.
Worried, he tried to open the door and found it locked so he knocked on the door harder.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“It’s too much for me, Osc. Everything is shit! My hair is shit, my body sucks, everyone’s gonna laugh at me because I don’t fit in with you lot” Your voice cracked as tears started clouding your vision.
Oscar started panicking slightly and he tried the door again, with no luck.
“Please open the door, I'm sure everything's fine! I don’t kno-“  he was interrupted by Lando coming around the corner.
“Mate, they’re waiting for us at the club. How long you gonna be?”
“Uhhm…” Oscar said, unhelpfully.
“I’m not going Lando!” You called through the door.
Lando lifted an eyebrow at Oscar in confusion.
“You go, we’ll catch up.”
Lando nodded and sauntered off, leaving Oscar on his own in dead silence. After a while you asked, “Is he gone?” as you got up from where you’d been sitting on the floor and approached the door to listen out for any movement.
“Yeah, please open the door now, it’s just me” Oscar said softly.
You did so and he gasped at the sight of you.
“Sweatheart, you look amazing!” He took your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears “Your eyes are a bit puffy, sure, but your hair looks fine! And that bangin’ bod of yours in that? I knew it would look stunning on you!” He wrapped his arms around you and you giggled wetly into his neck.
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m really not. You look like a wet dream come true!”
“Awww, Osc. Don’t go sappy on me.”
He laughed as the hug ended, a bit too early for your liking, and you just stood there smiling at each other like idiots.
You broke the tension with a sigh and picked your phone up to check the time.
“I don’t want to go out Osc, I’m really not feeling it tonight.”
“No problem, I’ll stay in with you”
“You don’t have to-”
“But I want to”
“Osc, you got p2, you need to go out and cele-“
He didn’t let you finish as he kissed you gently to shut you up, and when you got over your initial shock, you deepened the kiss, his hand came up to cup the back of your head and the other slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss got more passionate.
You separated, eventually needing air, and panted into each other’s mouths.
“That’s better than a p2, baby. I’ve waited a long time to do that.”
“I love you, Osc”
He grinned and squeezed you tightly as he kissed your forehead “God, I love you too sweetheart.”
You were both sat on the sofa, drinking a glass of probably very expensive wine you found in Lando’s pantry, still in your fancy clothes (although fancy for Oscar meant a white shirt and black jeans), chatting about how the two of you had been dancing around each other for years.
Oscar put his empty glass down on the table. “You know, just because we’re staying in doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun” His hand wandered up your arm, to your neck, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind then?” You asked
“Dunno” His expression remained neutral, but his voice betrayed his amusement. “We could take our clothes off and see how we go from there?”
You giggled, putting your own glass down and shuffling closer to him “Sounds like a plan.”
You all but ripped each other’s clothes off in your haste to get naked. He gently prised your legs apart as he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, getting them wet before testing the waters and sinking one inside you.
You both groaned, you because he could reach deeper than you ever could on your own, him because you were so hot and wet and tight.
It didn’t take long to get to three fingers, stretching you out before he withdrew completely and lined himself up, rubbing his cock through your folds a few times to get it nice and wet.
When he slid into you, it felt like coming home after a long day, like this is where he belonged. He stayed like that for a minute, hips still and head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to concentrate on not coming immediately.
When he was ready, he leaned up to kiss you and mumbled “I love you, so much” against your lips, before pulling out a bit and then giving an experimental thrust, which drove you both wild. He was so thick, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way, that you whined at every movement, and his hips quickly picked up speed.
You could only cling on to him as the pleasure was almost too much, your orgasm building too fast, making you tighten around his cock as he drove it deeper and deeper into you.
You tried to convey something to him, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic whimper.
He got the message anyway, a hand slinking down to rub messy circles into your clit, sending you hurtling over the edge as your vision blacked out.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Come on my cock, fuck-” and with that he reached his own end, pumping you full of him, as he gently ground his hips into yours, bringing you down slowly, the two of you in complete bliss.
Let’s just say, after that day, Lando had to replace his now stained sofa, and he never let you both stay at his place again.
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iaure · 2 years ago
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𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚the dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.
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yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city. tw: general yandere/obsessive behaviour, ptsd, survivor's guilt, cyberstalking, mentions of suicide (though not the actual act of it)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i intend for this to be multiple parts, as it's already become quite long before there was any real yandere behaviour. updating may be scattered due to work.
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you met him in the aftermath.
♡ there was an online support group for survivors, and after you barely escaped with your life, you needed all the help you could get.
♡ most of the members were nice enough. there was a lot of comforting, a lot of 'it's not your fault' and a lot of just trying to cheer each other up.
♡ there was one member in particular that always, always responded to your posts and comments.
♡ the user didn't have an account; you always simply chalked it up to them being technologically illiterate, or maybe they were simply forgetful.
♡ perhaps that was a bit naïve; if they could always remember your posts, who were they to forget having an account?
♡ but that didn't matter. they always signed off the same way-with a single initial, K.
♡ maybe it was a bit sappy. but having someone in your corner felt nice, after everything.
♡ ultimately, they were harmless and sweet, so having them around in your little slice of the internet was fine. ♡ they always worked double-time to cheer you up.
maybe K was a bit jealous. ♡ when you would speak with other group members, K would like your responses.
♡ sometimes, though, they'd pitch in; ignoring the other user entirely and simply talking with you as though you were the one who started the conversation.
♡ you tried to ignore it. other members on the forum didn't say anything, so you assumed it wasn't too strange.
but then they started to become more intimate. ♡ they would bring up small things that felt too strange to be a coincidence.
♡ they'd recommend you relax by watching that show you just started, or snacking on some of your favourite food, or taking a nap because it 'seemed' you were working to hard.
♡ they were personal enough to make your stomach churn, but it was not enough that you weren't able to reason it away.
♡ they were still so sugary sweet as well, and despite the unnerving nature of their kindness, the support meant everything.
♡ in a forum where everyone is upset and needing help at once, having someone that focused on you was nice.
♡ because at the end of the day, when you went into your bed, there always felt like something was wrong.
♡ the room was too small. you thought of what you did in the city, what you didn't, who you didn't save and who you damned.
♡ the sheets were too warm. your window had a shadow over it. the closet, was it cracked open? did something move around when you weren't looking?
♡ part of you knew in your heart of hearts that it was simply Raccoon City scaring you like a ghost. because if it wasn't, then what was haunting you?
you needed to get out. so, you got a job.
♡ at first, it was hell on earth. just leaving your home was hard enough; but going outside for upwards of eight hours was horrifying.
♡ your manager and coworker, however, were kind. they knew what you had gone through, and didn't rush you. the regulars were sweet, giving short words of encouragement.
♡ maybe this wasn't so bad.
♡ courtesy of the little bakery you worked at now, you were fed. you were getting paid. you began getting more sunshine, cleaning up more, feeling more accomplished.
♡ you started to stop posting.
♡ you had other things to focus on, now. you were considering getting a pet; so you had to save up money.
♡ but after a week and a half of not going on the forum at all, you decide to make an update.
K had made an account.
♡ oh, they had made one; they had made it to send hundreds upon hundreds of pleas into your messages.
♡ 'please, you mean so much', they begged. 'talk to me!', they wept.
♡ maybe they assumed you had offed yourself. it was possible.
♡ you took a second to look through all of them, feeling warm at first. K was sweet and kind and so soft, apparently.
♡ but with every message, they seemed to take one inch closer to strange, to creepy, to outright alarming.
♡ "please don't do anything rash!"
♡ "you don't know how much you mean to me!"
♡ "i know it's hard, but hang on for me!"
♡ "i need to know you're okay!"
♡ "whatever it is, i can help, please just let me in"
♡ "is it that job? it's the job, right? they're working you to death"
♡ "please just respond!"
♡ the horror seemed to grow with every message, up until one from just an hour or two ago;
"i just love you too much, i think" ♡ something isn't right.
♡ ...
♡ maybe it's time that you blocked K.
♡ you blocked their account, knowing it probably wouldn't do much. if they knew about your job, then what else did they know about?
♡ but you didn't hear much after that. there was a day or two where you were scared to even go to work, but that's alright.
you have a new regular.
♡ he's very sweet, almost achingly so; whenever he came into the bakery, he seemed equal parts nervous and bashful. he always tipped exceedingly well, and his order usually was some sort of new health option the owner was trying out.
♡ he wasn't just nice, though; he was pretty as well. he had a cute chin and his hair seemed always soft, and he spoke offhand about how he liked to work out because of his job.
♡ He was always happy to talk, but knew to leave if there was a line and didn't stay any longer than he was wanted.
♡ you didn't even know his name for a good month; but he often took liberty dropping yours.
♡ when you asked how he knew, he had a bright flush on his face before admitting that he had asked your coworker.
♡ how sweet!
♡ you found his name was Leon S. Kennedy, who was self-dubbed as "rookie cop extraordinaire".
♡ he began to clearly go out of his way to come into the bakery, sometimes coming in after clear workouts with a gym bag over his shoulder and a tank top on. was visiting a bakery after a workout counterintuitive?
♡ absolutely.
♡ but you don't mind. it's nice, seeing a cute face coming into work. and it always feels like he's doing it just for you. quite the special creature you are!
♡ he held a constant enthusiasm to talk to you, and it's enough to make your heart ache.
♡ the kicker comes when, offhand, he mentions Raccoon City; how he had gone to the police department for his first day and ended up saving a woman and a young girl from the apocalypse.
♡ instantly, your heartstrings are pulled because oh god. someone who understands. someone who did more than you could, has done more.
♡ you finally begin to get closer to him of your own accord. once or twice, you've even hinted at being single.
♡ each time you did, Leon would freeze; big blue eyes staring right at you with a pink flush that would anyone crumble. he even shook a little, like a small dog, and each time you'd have to laugh.
♡ it snaps him back to reality, and the conversation carries on.
but things are quiet on the eastern front.
♡ you haven't heard much from K since you blocked them. it's only natural, considering the steps taking. but sometimes, you wonder if K is still watching, what K really knew.
♡ maybe they were just an excellent guesser.
♡ but they've since gone silent. account or no, they're not saying anything anymore, and there's some semblance of peace.
♡ but you're still uneasy. something is still wrong.
♡ ...
♡ was your bed always this warm when you wake up?
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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months ago
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more than everything else
For @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘proposal’ wc: 999 rated m cw: suggestive language | tags: domestic fluff, sappy and romantic
💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍
“Steve! Freezer’s working again!” Eddie yelled from his spot on the floor behind their previously defunct freezer.
Eddie insisted he could fix it himself, hence the hours he’d spent on the floor with tools that weren’t doing anything and a lip bitten until it bled.
“Told you if you took your shirt off it would work faster,” Steve said from the doorway, hands on his hips as he took in the sight of Eddie being half naked.
Sweat dripping down his chest.
A bruise forming on his side where he’d dropped a wrench on himself earlier.
His newest tattoo peeling because he’d forgotten to put Vaseline on it earlier.
“I always listen to you, sweetheart,” Eddie smirked as he stood up. “You got any plans later?”
“I actually do remember something on the calendar.”
Eddie walked over to him, covered Steve’s hands with his own and rocked him side to side. “Damn.”
“Why? You wanna make plans?” Steve raised a brow.
“I thought I could get a reward for all my hard work today,” Eddie pouted his bottom lip out, eyes widening as he leaned further into Steve’s space. “Maybe in the bedroom?”
“Reward? For fixing the freezer that you broke?”
“I seem to remember someone saying that the freezer was just ‘old’ and that this ‘could’ve happened to anyone.’ Or am I mistaken?” Eddie let go of Steve’s hands but stayed close to him.
“I’m not sure who said that. I do remember someone saying that if you turned it down too far for too long, it would break, though. Maybe you can recall who said that?” Steve leaned in to peck his lips softly, teasing just a little with his fingers along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Seems like a smart guy.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. At least the guy who broke it could fix it.”
“That’s right, baby.” Steve backed away. “Now. I’ve got baked chicken spaghetti in the oven for dinner and I made cookies earlier if you-“
“Marry me.”
Steve froze, his eyes widened.
Maybe Eddie could’ve been more eloquent, more romantic.
Shit, maybe he could do that still.
He reached for Steve’s hands, smiling softly at him as his eyes darted between Eddie’s, searching for him to say that it was a joke.
“I’m serious.” Eddie kissed his forehead before continuing. “You think I survived the hell of ‘86 to not end up with Steve Harrington? You think I’ve spent nearly every day of the last six years trying to be the best partner you could ask for, the kind you deserve? You make me wanna be more than everything else.”
“What-“
Eddie shushed him with a kiss. “When I was little, like barely old enough to ride a bike, my mom brought me to a flower shop. She said I had to pick a nice flower for my teacher so she knew I was a sweet kid. I picked a daffodil. She laughed and said ‘you know the love of my life always brought my a daffodil’ and when I asked why dad didn’t bring them to her anymore she said ‘he never did.’ And as I got older I realized what that meant. I never could ask her about it, but I eventually asked Wayne. He said-“ Eddie sniffed, biting his lip trying not to cry. “He said sometimes the love you get isn’t what makes you feel better than everything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel more than everything else. And I still didn’t quite get it, ya know? Made no damn sense to me when I was 13. Kinda thought Wayne was high.” Steve laughed, Eddie smiled. “But then I saw you in the cafeteria one day, and I saw the way you held the door open for some of the band kids even though Tommy was teasing you for it. And I saw how much you did for me at my worst, even before you had a reason to, before you knew it would be worth more. I see how you love, and how you keep loving, even when some people may not deserve it. I feel how much you are, how much more you can still be. And how much I wanna be more to be worthy of you. I don’t have much, you know I don’t, but you love me anyway. And you make me wanna be more.”
Steve’s tears were falling rapidly, a sob escaping at the end of Eddie’s words as he fell forward, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt instantly.
“You’re enough for me,” he finally managed to say against Eddie’s neck. “You’ve always been enough for me. I don’t want more. I just want you.”
“I know, sweet love. I know.” Eddie’s arms tightened around him. “You think you could marry me?”
“Eds. I would marry you every day if we could.” Steve sniffed as he pulled away. “We can’t really do it, though.”
“Maybe not. But we can wear rings, tell everyone. I can call you my husband around the people who love us.”
That was a hell of a thought.
Husbands.
“You’re sure you want that?”
“Of course I am. Who else is gonna fix your freezer when it breaks?”
“Maybe you could try not to break it in the first place.” Steve smacked his shoulder. He kissed him slowly, tongue brushing against his bottom lip but not looking for more. “But I guess it would be nice to have someone around all the time to fix the stuff he breaks.”
“Hey!”
“I love you.”
It was that simple.
“So. My reward?”
“My hand in marriage.” Steve turned away and looked over his shoulder. “And maybe my hand in other places. If you hurry up and shower.”
“I’ll be done in five. Be naked on the kitchen table-“
“Eddie, not-“
“The kitchen table!”
Steve rolled his eyes but threw his shirt to the floor and winked before making his way to the kitchen. “Five minutes!”
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eastbluecrewed · 3 months ago
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huge fan of the barrel scene (witness me getting sappy beneath the cut)
i had a small but meaningful personal achievement coincide with reaching the barrel scene on my rewatch, and it got me thinking abt the impact one piece has had on me since i started it eight months ago. i love these guys a lot and they've done an absolute number on my psyche so of course i'm gonna tie them into the good things in my life!! sue me!!!!
when i first watched this scene i didn't realize the deep impact this story and these characters were going to have on me and how i view life, but damn they sure did!!! and so i thought it'd be fitting to do a simple little redraw as tribute to that and to myself.
hell yeah one piece time
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