#or using clear ordinary language

[francesderwent]

something that I think the “have fun and be yourself” discourse tends to miss is that it’s all very well saying do whatever you want and don’t worry about what people think because the people who judge you aren’t worth your time, but sometimes you choose to act normal because you have a task to do or you’re in a conversation that you care about, and having to stop in the middle for your interlocutor to say bewilderedly “but why did you do that in such a quirky way” would be wasting time and getting off topic. choosing to act normal to avoid that is not being inauthentic out of unhealthy fear of censure. it’s just prudence.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Eldritch being who has taken over your entire town.

TW. Dead Dove Do Not Eat Horror, confinement, isolation, death, Stockholm syndrome, yandere

You didn’t know when it had happened, but there was something very obviously wrong with your town.

It was the little things like the warped street signs, the inconsistent cracks in the sidewalk, and the way that the uncanny faces of people seemed to stare at you. It didn’t use to be like this, but you found yourself cautious about your new reality on the daily. You did try to leave and call for help, but there was some mysterious force cutting off your network. And when you did try to pack all your bags and high tail it out of there, you would end up just looping straight back on your street no matter what direction you drove in.

So now you made do with the fact that nothing was normal.

You sometimes wonder why whatever has infected all the people decided to leave you alone. Because there was no way it wasn’t a conscious decision. Your favorite flowers would start sprouting out of concrete walls and glass despite the fact it would be the middle of winter one day and a scorching summer the next. Not to mention, those flowers didn’t even grow here to begin with. It was a gesture. If it was meant to tempt or be kind, you weren’t sure. 

The town functioned like nothing was out of the ordinary, though. Well, at least it tried to puppet the barely real bodies of your community to do things they would daily. The grocery store always had food and figures milling about, and even though none of the products ever tasted quite right or had words in a real language, you could tell “it” was trying to keep things running for you.

You’d once tried to hide away in your house, thinking that it was somehow protecting you from whatever was out there. But all you did was make it angry. Constant thunderstorms that shook the ground, and hail that pounded on your roof and walls. When you continued to stay inside, that’s when it made things clear: it was letting you stay as you were. The house shifted dramatically, doors disappearing and walls bending in front of your eyes. 

Come outside. Stop trying to resist.

Privacy was just another one of those far-out concepts now.

The thing, as you so liked to call it, had been more affectionate lately. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it had started morphing all the “people” into more attractive versions of themselves. Or at least, what it thought of as attractive to humans. Their faces were more tangible now and less blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but they were uncanny in a new way. Skin too smooth, too perfect in so many different ways. Symmetrical, full lips, pleasant expressions, soothing voices: all things that on paper would lure someone in, but it had alarm bells ringing in your head nearly all the time now.

“I don’t like this, you know,” You said one day as you sat in the diner. The room was stretched out wider than what it looked like on the outside, and the waitress had an unnaturally wide smile. Before you was a plate of… something. Your guess was pancakes.

“What do you mean?” Several voices asked at once. It came from all around, and the waitress’s mouth barely moved to match the words. 

“ I like you better when you aren’t trying so hard to be something you weren’t.”

There was a pause, and the building slowly unraveled into a jumbled mess of things that you could barely comprehend, the other patrons' faces and bodies melting away into linoleum floors. 

“You’re not human. You don’t have to be. I think I’d prefer that honestly,” You shrugged and poked at your food. From the corner of your eyes, a figure seemed to emerge from the mess of what used to be your favorite restaurant. It was a writhing mass of dark tendrils, reaching for anything nearby. You’re breath caught in your throat.

“Do you really mean that?”

The voice spoke, but there wasn’t any face to accompany it. It reverberated in the base of your spine, racing through your nerves like lightning. Your breath hitched, and you finally gathered enough courage to look at it. It was a mess of things you couldn’t quite make out, but it was almost comforting. 

“This is the first time I’ve actually seen you,” you admitted, a small laugh of disbelief caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time it had actually listened to you. 

The being twitched, pulsing as it slid over towards where you were sitting at the booth. It was the only thing that had stayed intact. For something so expressionless, you’d dare to say it seemed shy. 

From the inky mass, one tendril reached out for you, the air around it crackling. You stayed in place as it slid over your hand, and you felt the wonder and relief.

“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to force you, but I’m so alone… you’re the only one who doesn’t disappear when I’m near.”

You blinked as the mass filled the cracks between your hands, folding into the lines of your palms as if trying to memorize you. If it had a hand, you’d be holding it. If it had lips, yours would be slotting against them. If it had a heart, you were certain they’d be painted a similar shade of loneliness. 

You stood up and slowly approached it, holding out your arms as you leaned in, wrapped your arms around its slowly forming figure, and nodded in silence. 

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.”

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[rafesangelita]

♡ cowboy!rafe surprises farmer’s!daughter!reader with a picnic date!

warnings: fluff, sneaking around, suggestive language

a/n: cowboy!rafe hasn’t made an appearance on here for a minute so this is long overdue. i’m actually planning something super exciting (a farmer’s!daughter!reader series) that i think all of you will love <3 as always, i now have a private community where we could discuss anything and everything, so just leave a comment, ask, or message me if you’d like an invite!

rafe has been acting strange all morning. from finishing up his work earlier than usual, disappearing into the field of trees for an extended period of time, to running back and forth out of the house with paper bags and a pitcher full of lemonade you made just yesterday, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity get the best of you. skipping down the old wooden stairs, you made your way out back where rafe was using his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

“what are you doing? i’ve been watching you from my window this whole time.” rafe turned, looking around to make sure no one could see you two. “hey.. do you know what time your old man is coming back home?” you shook your head, reaching up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips. “no, but we should still have some time left..” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks heat once rafe gave you that smug grin of his.

“yeah? wanna give this cowboy a ride?” rafe leaned down, his nose running along the underside of your jaw, “i don’t know, you look a little tired..” you teased him, giving him a soft nudge as he lead you out of the back house. “i actually wanna show you something,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you to where he spent the morning setting up a picnic date, your eyebrows knitting in confusion, “i know i’ve been working a lot but i wanted to do a little somethin’ special for you,” you two kept on walking until you stepped into a small clearing, the quilt lying on the ground catching your attention.

you gasped once you saw the homeade bouquet sitting in the center. “rafe cameron, you did not!” you emphasized his full name, throwing your arms around him. “this is just too cute!” you squealed, immediately taking a seat and taking the bouquet in your lap. in it was daisies, sunflowers, and baby’s-breath. it was absolutely perfect. “do you like it?” he watched you admire the flowers, the sunlight’s rays gently peeking through the trees and casting it’s glow onto your surroundings. “i love it, really,” you glanced at him, “this is so sweet, i don’t think my heart could take it.” rafe laughed, opening up one of the paperbags to show you the contents.

“so as you can see here; this is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but— this isn’t your ordinary jelly..” you scooted closer, peering down at the piece of bread. “remember when you were telling me that you missed your mom’s strawberry jam?” you gasped, your eyes instantly welling with tears. “well, it turns out that your dad had the recipe written down somewhere for safekeeping, so i made it for you.” he handed you the sandwich, the gooey sweetness dripping onto your finger.

popping a digit into your mouth, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia, the taste taking you back to when you were just four years old and eating lunch after coming back in from playing outside all afternoon. “this is perfect, rafe,” you pecked his cheek, “seriously, this is the most precious thing anyone has ever done for me..” rafe smiled, his eyes softening at your words. “i’m glad, sweetheart, i’ll keep this in mind for the next one.”

[dark-moonlust]

Paying Tribute to the Satyrs Part 1

Pairing: 3 Satyrs x nymph reader

Summary: you are a nymph who gets lost in the Satyr forest. You meet its guardians, three Satyrs who demand your body as a tribute for safe passage.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, multiple partners, oral (male and female receiving), satyrs have double 🍆, belly bulge, p in v sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, lots of 💦.

Part 2 here. Part 3 here.

The forest was unlike any you had ever seen before, a maze of ancient trees that were so thick they hid the sky. The air was sweetly fragrant with the aroma of moss, wildflowers and magic. As a nymph, you were used to several kinds of woodlands and magic but this forest felt different.

A little too late, you realized that you’d gone too far, and lost your way among the twisted roots and deep fog. This was no ordinary forest; it was the Satyrs�� territory and you had strayed straight into it. You’d heard Satyrs were impatient drunkards, yet powerful enough to roam the forest and harvest power from it.

Panic crept into your chest as you tried to find the way back. Every time you took the path home, the route vanished as if devoured by the living forest. The air had also changed, a cool unsettling breeze flowing and the trees talked in a language you couldn't understand, their leaves rustling with warnings.

And then, you felt it—a presence. No, not one. Three.

They came from the shadows— three Satyrs, emanating carnal and primal power. They were taller than you imagined and fairly muscular, too. Their forms were half-man, half-goat, with chiseled bodies wrapped in fur from the waist down and large hooves pounding against the ground. Their eyes shone amber in the dark light, elegant horns curving from their heads.

The leader, whose horns were longer took a step forward, his raw, earthy scent filling your senses. “Well, what have we here? A little nymph, in our forest.”

“I… I didn’t mean to intrude. I got lost,” you said, your voice clear even if something warm curled in the pit of your stomach.

The other satyr closed in on you, a small grin on his face. “Oh, little nymph, you’re far from home and now you’re ours.”

You raised a brow. “Says who?”

The last one let his gaze sweep over you, lingering on the curves of your body. “Says us. I am Fyrian, the protector.”

The second one said, “I am Kynias, the healer.”

And the leader joined in, “I am Teofos, the all-powerful. You’ve crossed into Satyr territory and now must pay for safe passage.”

“What’s the price?” you asked, though you already knew what they wanted. You could see it in their eyes, the way they looked over your body, possessive and greedy. You had heard stories of the Satyrs, of their power and insatiable appetites for pleasure, but to be at their mercy, their tribute? It sounded deliciously wicked and not at all a bad deal: pay tribute by experiencing the best fucking of your life.

“Your body,” Teofos growled. “That’s the tribute we demand.”

Kynias reached out, his rough fingers brushing against your cheek. “Will you give us what we desire, little nymph?”

The third satyr grinned, his thumb tracing the line of your neck. “You smell of pure flowers,” Fyrian whispered. “Sweet, fresh, untouched.”

“I’ve had sex before,” you said incredulously.

“But not with a satyr. Not with us,” Fyrian corrected, his hand sliding down your arm, his fingers curling possessively around your wrist.

“We want everything,” the Kynias purred, hands fondling your clothed breasts. “Your body. Your pleasure. All of it, given to us freely.”

“And if I refuse?” you taunted even though you burned for them.

Teofos’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “You won’t refuse,” he whispered, his hand dropping between your legs, cupping your mound firmly.

You gasped, goosebumps awakening in your skin.

He smiled. “You want this, nymph. I can feel it in the way your body trembles. In the way your little pussy is soaked for us.”

Heat flooded through you, causing your breath to catch as his words struck deep inside you. Teofos was right. Your body longed for their touch. Your breasts were tender as they played with them and the fire between your thighs begged for relief.

“I want you.” You licked your lips. “I’ll pay the price but you’d better make it worth it.”

“Oh, trust us,” Teofos growled, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, lifting your skirt. “We always make good on our word.”

Kynias slipped down the ties of your top. “You’re ours now. And we will claim you, here, under the eyes of the forest.”

Fyrian’s hands were slipping down your panties, his lips pressing hot kisses against your shoulder. “Mmm, yes. Let’s see how wet you are for us, little nymph.”

In a few seconds, they had you naked and shivering between them. You let out a soft, trembling breath when they circled you, their cocks magically protruding from a slit between their hairy thighs. Yes— cocks Each of them sported two shafts; inhumanly long and thicker than any cock you’d ever seen. Teofos pumped his cocks in one palm then bent to bury his face in the swell of your breasts. You whined when he latched his mouth at your nipple while Kynias did the same for the other bud.

The third one, Fyrian pressed against you from behind, hands cupping your pert ass and massaging your globes, his tongue tracing abstract patterns at your neck. You felt his dicks rub against the crack of your ass, supremely hot and naturally lubricated.

“Pretty sensitive nipples,” Teofos drawled while lapping at one nipple.

“And so tender,” Kynias muttered, his tongue flicking the other bud mercilessly.

Fyrian let his fingers slide between your legs, finding your slick pussy. “So ready for us. Come feel how wet she is.”

Just as he said that Fyrian grabbed you from under the knees and lifted you up against his chest. You clutched his shoulders, your legs opening like butterfly wings, your pussy bared in all its glory. The other two kneeled before your cunt and smiled as their hands moved down your waist, fingertips tracing the line of your hips.

"Dear gods, look at her," Teofos said, his fingers drawing apart the folds of your pussy. "Feels so soft and delicate."

At his words, the fire between your thighs built, more juices trickling from you.

"I want to feel, too," Kynias muttered, his fingers brushing against the dampness between your legs. "Oh fuckk, so good!"

“Hhmmm, look at that pretty pouting bud,” Teofos drawled, gathering your juices and rubbing his finger over your asshole. “Our little nymph has two pretty holes.”

“This—this is my ass,” you panted. “You can’t—”

“Why not?” Kynias demanded as he toyed with your glistening pussy. “You accepted to pay the price.”

“But… but that—“ you moaned when Teofos carefully thrust a finger inside your ass. You lost all thought as that thick finger drove up, curling inside you.

“That feels so damn good,” Teofos growled, adding a second finger that stretched your rim deliciously.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as their hands moved over your cunt, exploring and claiming. They seemed fascinated with your cunt and played with your asshole too, slipping three fingers inside you. You whined, helpless, suspended in the air, your holes open for them and captive to the overwhelming sensation of their touch and heat.

“Do you like it, little nymph?” Fyrian rasped in between kissing you. “Getting your naughty little holes fingered and stroked?”

“Hmmm… a-bout to…hnnn,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Cum. P-please!”

They licked you up, two satyrs at the apex of your thighs, one licking your clit and fingering your pussy while the other pushed a digit up your ass and licked all around it. The other satyr who was holding you in the air claimed your mouth, swallowing your groans and moans that were thick with desire. You came in no time, the stimulation was too much, the sensations driving you to a toe-curling orgasm.

Then they were repositioning you, settling you on your back, your legs wide open and held apart by Kynias and Teofos. Fyrian bent between your legs, taking his turn with your pussy and ass. He lapped up your dripping cunt, played with your juices and fingered you in both holes, letting deliciously husky moans and grunts. The other two, sat at your sides, their double cocks protruding in your face, pulsing with life.

“Good girl. Now I want you to open that pretty mouth,” Teofos said, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw as he tilted your head back.

“Take turns, little nymph,” Kynias growled, his eyes dark with command. “Lick, kiss, and worship our cocks.”

You opened your mouth, and let your tongue trace Teofos’s cocks. The cockheads twitched at your touch, and he growled, cupping your face and urging you to take them both deep into your warm mouth. You groaned and did so, lips stretching wide to receive him. Kynias grasped your hand and curled it around his shafts, pumping back and forth while watching you swallow his leader’s cock.

“Such a pretty sight,” Fyrian drawled, his tongue eating up your pussy, nose pressed against your clit, three fingers in your ass. “Handling all three of us.”

“Hmmm, she’s sucking me nice and deep Teofos growled, his shafts kissing the back of your throat causing you to gag.

“The sounds she makes,” Fyrian rasped, pinching your tender nipples, causing you to groan and choke around the cock in your mouth. “I want to hear more…”

You granted his wish as you came undone in a fiery explosion, crying out and thrashing violently at the overstimulation. They held you in a steel grip, marveling at your climax before re-arranging themselves. This time they rolled you on all fours, Teofos slipping behind you, his cocks aligned to your holes. You opened your mouth to suckle Fyrian’s cocks, your tongue tracing the length of his shafts. You also raised your hand to pump Kynias’s shafts, caressing them both in bold strokes.

“Hmpfff—” you whined when Teofos thrust inside, both thick shafts pushing past the resistance of your holes and driving inside. He filled you up to bursting, your belly full with the shape of his dicks. Then they settled on a relentless rhythm, all three of them using your body in ways that turned you into a moaning, blubbering mess.

“Are you ready, little nymph?” Fyrian growled, his hands running through your hair. “Gonna cover your pretty lips and hair with my seed.”

Kynias grumbled, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m gonna stain your pretty tits and belly.”

You could only nod and whimper softly, hands and mouth filled with their cocks. Teofos was also fucking you from behind, playing with your clit while owning your holes. It was too much, yet you craved more, you craved release and their warm cum. The heat in your belly was unbearable and they could tell, their hands guiding your movements, sending shockwaves of bliss through your system.

You came in muffled cries, eyes shutting tightly. They paused for a few seconds, long enough for them to feel every delicious quiver of your body then spurted their seed, doing as promised and bathing you in their seed. Your face dribbled with cum, your tits and belly, too. Not to mention the torrent of jizz flowing from your cunt and ass.

Then they were rearranging themselves so the next satyr could fuck your sloppy holes. They continued to pound you, taking turns until all three of them had claimed you, filling you up with their loads. Their hands, lips, and heat engulfed you. Your body shivered uncontrollably, your breath coming in ragged gasps from all the moans and sucking.

“That’s it. Looks so pretty now, drenched in our seed,” Teofos growled as he thrust one of his cocks deep into your mouth while rubbing the other over your messy face.

“Who knew nymphs could take satyr cocks so beautifully?” Fyrian rasped in your ear, both his cocks driving deep in your ass. “Fuuuck, she’s so wet and sloppy.”

“Hmm, she’s a carnal little offering,” Kyrian muttered, thrusting both cocks in your cunt. “With holes tight and eager. I think she can go all night.”

And so, they claimed you completely, their bodies crushing yours, their cocks claiming every inch of you, leaving nothing untouched or untainted. Groans and wet thrusting sounds filled the air. Your consciousness was lost in the overpowering pleasure, in the heat that consumed you.

You were at their mercy, their tribute.

And it was well worth it. Fucking Satyrs was much better than you’d ever imagined.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

So Blue | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Who can you turn to in a dire situation if not your best friend? That's what Jisung thought when he texted you. Heart racing with fear that your best friend was hurt, you rush to his side. What you find however will change everything...

•Pairings: non idol Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, friends to lovers, strong language, mention of sexual enhancement drug, light anxiety, creampie, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, cum eating

an: photos of Han used in title graphic have been edited for entertainment purposes by me and are not real. no harm is intended in the edited pictures. also please do not take any enhancement meds without talking to a doctor for your own safety. i don't condone the behavior that's written.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

The house is quiet, way too quiet when you step inside. Knowing Chan, Changbin, and Jisung for years, you know it's never this quiet when they're around and it's unsettling... Shutting the door behind you and glancing around, you see nothing out of the ordinary. So far everything looks exactly the way you left it last night after the four of you hung out. Just as you're about to walk into the kitchen, you hear Jisung start calling your name from his bedroom. Your heart races with panic and you rush towards his room, dropping your bag on the floor along the way. All kinds of awful scenarios play in your mind and when you burst into his room you half expect to find him bloody or with a broken bone, not sitting on the edge of his bed in a white sleeveless shirt and black shorts, with his legs spread sporting a massive hard-on.

"Wait, why me?" you blurt out, when Jisung explains that he needs your help. Your cheeks heat up as you steal a quick glance at the unmistakable bulge in his shorts. There's a mix of embarrassment and unexpected arousal that floods through you, leaving you flustered.

You're shocked, jaw practically hitting the floor. Who knew he was so… big? After all these years of friendship, you never thought of him in any other way except as your weird and talented friend. But now, seeing him in this state… It's making you feel things you'd rather deny and your stomach is flipping like crazy. Every now and then you notice that his cock twitches underneath his shorts as if it's alive, pulsating and drawing your eyes down to it again despite how hard you try not to stare. Kind of hard when something that size is practically waving “Hello” at you.

"I- I can't tell the guys this. They'd clown me for life," Jisung stammers, fidgeting as he looks at you from across his messy room. Plastic water bottles scattered, tissues crumpled on the floor—yeah, it's pretty clear what he's been up to before you got here.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Han Jisung?" you retort, emphasizing his full name for dramatic effect.

"I don't know," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "It's been hours. I can't even leave my room. It hurts, y/n."

When he grabs at the stiffness beneath his cotton shorts and lets out a low groan, you stop breathing. Why does this have to turn me on? He's my best friend! You mentally scold yourself, tearing your gaze away. Shit, it's hot in here. Your body feels too hot all over. It's like standing too close to a blazing fire, the heat making you squirm uncomfortably.

"Ji... we need to get you to the hospital," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You've seen those commercials."

"Please, no! I can't let anyone see me. Did you forget, your bestie Annie, who also happens to be Chan's girl, works there. If she sees me, it's game over. She'll tell him." Jisung pleads, hands clasped together, desperation evident in his wide brown eyes. Those puppy dog eyes of his always get to you.

"Dude, what were you even thinking, taking Love?" you groan, plopping down on the cozy carpet with a heavy thud, completely confused by your friend's decision to take an enhancement pill.

You remember seeing those late-night infomercials a couple of years back, pushing that blue heart-shaped pill. They call it 'Love' because of the 'L0-V3' stamped on it. Basically it's like Viagra, but it's mixed with a very low dose of THC. They advertise that it does more than just keep things up. 'Guaranteed to give you the ultimate pleasure,' they say.

Jisung shrugs, watching you with a miserable expression. “I was curious if it would make masturbating feel different, better maybe? I mean it did the first 6 times. Wah! The orgasms were fucking mind blowing y/n.” He smiles and chuckles.

"Ji, oh my god! Ugh, have mercy on my ears bro." Both of you burst into laughter, but then you notice Ji wincing in pain. Your mood quickly shifts from playful to genuine concern.

"It hurts that much?" you ask, feeling awful that he's so uncomfortable.

He nods weakly, “It's not even just my dick but my balls feel so fuckin’ heavy. Like they're literally going to rip from my body.”

You cringe inwardly, fingers pressing into your ears as he launches into yet another one of his oversharing moments. His lack of filter has always been a trademark of his, but that's just Jisung being Jisung. After being friends since grade five, it's like he's incapable of holding back anything with you. You remember the day he lost his virginity, he texted you literally right after. His excitement was evident even through the phone. As a joke you got him a cake in the shape of the letter ‘V’. That was in highschool and his habit of sharing way too much is still going strong in your twenties. Only difference is this time his oversharing is doing things to you.

The dampness between your thighs, well, that's just gotta be a coincidence, right? I mean, it's not like the sight of your long time buddy sporting a hard-on is doing anything for you. It's more than likely just the frustration of being on a three-year dry spell. Yeah, that's gotta be it. It's definitely because you haven't been fucked in a long time and not Jisung himself. You give your head a shake, dropping your hands from your ears with a wry smirk.

"Ji, we've really gotta do something… before it gets worse. You don't want it to fall off." You tell him jokingly, trying to keep the mood light but you're feeling worried all over again.

"Yeah, yeah I know. You're right, but what are we supposed to do? I've tried everything, even beatin' it 11 times, and still no luck.” He says, sounding so casual about his masturbatory activities.

You let out an embarrassed groan and fall back dramatically onto the floor, while Jisung lets out a pitiful whine. You grab your phone and start searching for home remedies but after an hour of scrolling, you're still at square one. Not a single remedy seems feasible. Leeches? Nah, no way. As if either of you would go near those slimy things. And some tea from a self-proclaimed witch sounds sketchy as hell. Plus, she's halfway across the globe. It would take forever to get here, if it even would. Jisung hasn't had any luck either. Every twenty minutes You hear him curse under his breath and run his hands through his hair. You two are running out of options, and as time passes, you start to feel more and more useless.

"Y/n," Jisung whispers your name after another forty minutes of searching, his voice hesitant.

You look up at him, doe eyed and innocently chewing your lip. “Hm? What's up, Hannie? Did you find something?” With a strained grunt he nods in response looking at you intensely.

“Fuck, shit.” He mutters under his breath, almost like he's talking to himself. “My dick... It won't go down without…”

“Ji what is it? You're freaking me out. Without what?” You scramble up onto your knees and crawl over to the bed, inching closer to him, eyes full of concern.

Jisung looks like he's in absolute agony watching you crawl over to him. His emotions are all over the place, you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him when you reach the bed. His eyes are like flames, burning far too hot when he looks at you. You can see the struggle written all over his face like he's fighting with himself.

“Y/n, you're making it harder,” Jisung breathes out, his voice husky and balling his hands into fists as he tries to keep his composure.

You sit beside him scrunching up your face and like the good friend that you are, you place a comforting hand on his knee. Jisung's breath catches in his throat and a flush creeps up his neck when you touch him making him suddenly feel lightheaded.

"What do you mean 'making it harder'? I'm here trying to help you, remember?” You say, your voice soft and tinged with hurt. The pain in your voice and eyes catches him off guard. He's stammering, suddenly aware of how his words might've come out wrong.

He didn't mean for it to sound bad. You're the last person he'd ever want to hurt. But today, everything you do just seems to set him off. He's been trying so damn hard to push his feelings aside. But it's like having you in his room, despite you being here a million times before, it's messing with his head. He can't think straight. You've always been stunning to him, and yeah, maybe he's entertained some inappropriate thoughts about you in the past, but that was only once. Maybe it's the pill messing with his head but you’re making it impossible for him to focus on anything but you.

“N- no I mean, I’m grateful you're here, really love. You're the only one who can help me. I just mean… you're making it harder. Ya know?” He stammers, licking his lips nervously. He nods down once looking down at his lap before back at you and bites his lip feeling embarrassed. Your eyes flick down to his shorts and go wide when you understand.

"What? How?!" You glance down at your outfit. His black hoodie with the paint splatters that you borrowed a few days ago, paired with simple black leggings. Nothing revealing, yet you're somehow making his cock even harder than it already was.

"You're over there moaning and then you start crawling towards me on all fours. I mean, come on, how could anyone not get turned on by that? Shit!" He chuckles nervously, feeling his heart racing. He hides his face in his hands, laughing, and murmurs something when you giggle.

"You're such a perv, Ji." You tease, still chuckling as you playfully pry his hands away from his face. "Now try that again. I'm not fluent in mumbles, sorry.”

“I said… I just read that it won't go down without intercourse. Bro, I don't exactly have a girlfriend. I'm so fucked.” He sighs, sounding completely defeated.

Your smile falters when you see just how miserable he looks. It's been a while since he was last in a relationship, that was true. Probably a little longer than you, about four years now. His last one ended when she demanded he choose between you and her. She couldn't stand the fact that you would spend the night in the spare bedroom where Jisung, Chan, and Changbin recorded their music, dreaming of making it big someday. Jisung ended things with her on the spot; he wouldn't be with someone who couldn't accept his friends. Apparently she had issues with Minho too, which was probably what really did it for him. But somehow, you can't shake off the feeling that their breakup was somehow your fault, that his single status is on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry Hannie. We'll um, we can figure something out.” You reassure him, innocently rubbing his knee.

Without thinking much, your fingers gently glide over his skin comfortingly, feeling the tenseness in his muscles. He's so stressed. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. You don't know what to do right now other than offer him comfort. There are no answers or solutions that you can think of to give him. All you can do is show him that you're in it together as always. You start rambling on about how you two are both probably freaking out for no reason and that everything will be fine soon. But as your fingers continue to move in innocent slow circles, Jisung starts shifting. It goes unnoticeable by you so you keep talking. It's all nonsense really, delving into something completely random and off topic in an attempt to distract him from the issue at hand, only Jisung isn't processing a single word you've said. He's far too focused on your hand.

The moment your hand landed on his knee he prayed you wouldn't move it, he prayed you would. He tried so hard to focus on anything other than the heat and softness of your hand on his bare skin. It's too much though and his mind starts to quickly wander. He freezes and tries to focus on your voice but it's impossible. Jisung can't stop the thoughts that his mind creates or the images that begin to come into focus. He's imagining your hand sliding up his thigh until it's slipping under his shorts. He can almost feel it happening, his sudden daydream becoming so vivid. In his mind's eye he can see you take him into your hands, feel you stroking him until he's a mess and spilling all over your fingers. He's fighting his demons and you're oblivious to it all. You just continue to talk all while the sensation of your hand is driving him up the wall. He can feel the sudden familiar tightening in his balls and he panics. He can't get control of his body, not with the drug still in his system.

His hand quickly comes down covering yours, stopping the gentle caress to his knee. His intense brown eyes look darker when they stare into yours. His lips slightly part and his breath starts coming out in uneven quiet bursts. The warmth of his hand seems to grow hotter, becoming slightly sweaty against yours and your heart starts pounding in your chest. You feel the subtle shift in his body beneath your touch and his legs tense up as he lets out a soft, involuntary grunt. Jisung's gaze burns into yours with an undeniable intensity that makes air feel thick and your cunt slick.

Is he about to?

You glance down at his shorts and his cock pulsates underneath. You stop breathing when realization hits you. He’s going to cum, right here, right now, all while holding your hand and looking at you. He's leaking so much precum it's noticeable even in the black fabric. A wicked scene flashes through your mind, of you sinking to your knees to taste him, taking his fully clothed cock into your mouth.

"Ah, shit! Mm!" Jisung's moans slip out and his breathing escalates as he starts to tremble all over. "Y/n," he pants out. Your name rolling off his tongue, making your whole body flush as his orgasm quickly builds, like you're the cause of it. "I... oh, shit. I'm... sorry, fuck. I can't... Help it. I'm cumming. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!”

His grip on your hand tightens and he takes a deep breath before letting out a long low moan. You're left speechless, eyes fixed on Jisung's face as he cums in his pants. His hips move instinctively upwards, as if he's fucking some unseen entity and you can't help but find it incredibly hot. It's possibly the sexiest thing you've ever witnessed and now you're more turned on than you were to before.

His orgasm hits him hard, and you can feel his muscles tighten when he lets go. Warmth spreads through your body and it's impossible not to miss the way his release seeps through his dark shorts. The fabric quickly becomes wetter as his seed flows out in thick, white strings. His cock, still concealed and hard beneath the dampness, slows its wild twitching and stills.

“God, I'm sorry y/n. I don't know what came over me. Your hand... It felt incredible and it just happened. It was like the pill ramped up the feeling.” He apologizes, letting go of your hand. His heavy breathing slows and cheeks flush with a mixture of arousal and shame.

“It's ok Ji, I understand. You don't have to apologize. I wasn't thinking. I'll uh, get you a change of shorts.” You start to get up and head towards his dresser but he catches your wrist. He looks up at you with those brown sugar boba eyes of his making you shift.

“Tell me what you're thinking, y/n. Please? I'm going crazy thinking I'm weirding you out. Be honest with me please, lovely. Please?” He pleads with you.

You sigh and sit back down beside him and almost moan when the seam of your leggings rub against you. Seeing Jisung cum right in front of you, has your body feeling ultra sensitive. You're so on edge as if you've taken an enhancement pill yourself.

"I'm not weirded out, trust me," You confess, your voice low and filled with something more that you try to hide from him and yourself.

"Then how do you feel? You've gone quiet on me." Jisung probes, daring you to reveal your feelings.

“I feel fine Ji.” You say and look at his closet door. It's wide open and his clothes are all over the place inside like a tornado went through it.

“Bullshit y/n. I can tell when you're lying. You never look at me when you lie.”

Sighing you look him in the eyes and your mouth suddenly goes dry. He's not going to let this go until you fess up to him. He'll drill you with questions until you crack and that will probably make things more awkward than it already is. You don't really have a choice but to be transparent with him like you normally are.

“I'm,” You start, only for your words to trail off into a mumble.

“What was it you said earlier y/n? I'm not fluent in mumble?" He smirks, feeling so damn proud of himself and you roll your eyes.

“Ugh, fine. Fine, okay. I'm… horny. There, satisfied?” You admit red in the face. You look away fiddling with the sleeve of Jisung's hoodie.

"What else?" His voice, steady and resolute.

Your head spins back to him, caught off guard. "What else?" you echo loudly in shock. "Isn't all that enough?" He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he knows something you don't.

"Nah, not when I can feel you holding back," Jisung teases, leaning closer. "We're always so open with each other, but right now, there's something you're not saying."

“I…” You let out a defeated and frustrated sigh. “You turned me on.” You whisper. “The sight of you cumming. The look on your face, that fucking moan, Jisung. The way your cock bobbed from inside your shorts when you… damn it. It fucking made me wet. I've been wet since I walked in here!” You're practically yelling now, breathing heavily after releasing all your pent up feelings and he just smiles and chuckles.

“That wasn't so hard was it?

“Yes,” You say with a huff. “Yes, that actually was pretty damn hard.” You go to cover your face but he stops you.

“Don't be embarrassed, sweetie. I think that's a normal reaction. Sorta like watching porn.” He replies, chuckling.

“I suppose… but it doesn't really help your situation though.” You say feeling mortified.

The room goes quiet for a minute, the pair of you at a loss for words until Jisung breaks the silence.

“Maybe it can?”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow in his direction. His cheeks flush and he raises his hands in a surrender gesture, palms facing outward, “Hear me out. It doesn't have to be weird. We'd just be helping each other out. You wouldn't be horny anymore and I wouldn't be hard and in pain. You're my only hope.”

“Are you suggesting that you and I… fuck?” You ask gesturing between you both. He groans in half pain, half pleasure at your words and your face heats again matching the blush on his cheeks.

“Please? Please let me fuck you y/n. Shit I know we're friends, it won't mean anything. You'd be literally saving my life. It's torture being like this. Every twitch, every movement I make… it fucking hurts like hell.” He begs, sounding desperate.

Jisung's question hangs in the air and you find yourself unable to respond. Silence ticks on for only a few seconds but to Jisung it feels like an hour. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration and huffs.

"Fine, then," he grumbles, breaking the silence again. "Can you at least help me get into your car so we can go to the hospital then?" His voice is rough, but there's an underlying vulnerability to it.

Still you stay quiet, his pleas echoing loudly in your mind. He's begging for your help and you can't speak. You're torn between wanting to be there for him and the fear of the aftermath. It's never a good idea to sleep with a friend. God, how many times have there been movies portraying that, only for it to go wrong? Too many, that's the answer. You're already feeling things that you wish you weren't. This could ruin your friendship with Jisung. This isn't just a peck on the lips. You'll be far closer and far more intimate than you two have ever been. So your hesitation is valid but Jisung is losing his mind and panicking more than you are right now.

“What the fuck y/n? Are you really ignoring me right now? Look, I'm sorry I asked. Just forget it and hel-”

"Promise me," You cut him off, "Promise me that we'll pretend like it never happened."

"Absolutely, yes. I promise!" he agrees eagerly, his face lighting up as he reaches for the drawer in his bedside dresser.

Curious, you watch as he rummages through the drawer's content. "What are you up to now?" you ask, sounding amused despite the fact that the little voice in your head is screaming at you.

"Looking for a condom," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looks over at you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Dude, even if you find one, it's probably expired or dried up. When was the last time you got some ass?"

"Oh yeah right, good point—wait! It hasn't been that long!" He whines.

Laughing, you playfully cover your mouth. "Uh huh, sure. Besides, you gave your last one to Chan a while ago, remember?"

“Shit, you're right. Now what?” He pouts looking disappointed.

“Just raw I guess. Don't really have a choice. We both know we're clean and I'm on the pill.” You shrug nonchalantly like the idea is whatever to you but your heart is beating a thousand beats per second and you're internally freaking out.

Jisung swallows hard, looking nervous in your direction. “You uh, you sure?”

“Yeah let's just do it before Bin and Chan get back. Shit would be really awkward if they caught us.” Your voice betrays your false confidence, shaking as nerves wrack your body.

“Yeah, good point” He replies with a nod, suddenly looking serious.

This is serious to him. This isn't exactly how he envisioned his weekend starting. Jisung's heart pounds hard, his palms sweating as he stares at you. Amidst the anxiety he's feeling about this, he's oddly happy. He feels lucky knowing you’re here willing to cross boundaries for him. Not everyone would do something like this for a friend, but you're different. You always have his back no matter what crazy mess Jisung finds himself in.

Despite the fucked-upness of it all, Jisung can't deny the excited flutter in his stomach. The thought of having sex with a friend is enough to give anyone major anxiety but he's surprised how well you both are dealing with it. Still, fear sits at the back of his mind. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins your friendship? This is a big deal. He's seen it play out in movies and dramas all the time and not once had it turned out well. He doesn't have a lot of options though. You're quite literally his only hope like he told you.

Jisung gets up carefully, giving you full access to his bed and watches you as you strip down to nothing. Embarrassment fills you as his mouth hangs open, in complete fascination and awe. He thinks you're unstoppable, the way you're confidently undressing like that. He doesn't know you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. His eyes find your breast and he mentally marvels over how hard your nipples are. He suddenly wants nothing more than to slip the peaks into his mouth and bite down on them until they're red and you're squirming under him. Your cunt calls to him like a siren, just as pretty and just as wet. His fingers itch to trace the contours of your body, to feel your skin beneath his touch. Every inch of you seems to call out to him.

Jisung shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he glances towards the door. "Um, so about the lights... Do you have a preference?”

"You decide, Ji.” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, leaning back into his sheets on your forearms.

With a nod, he walks over to the door and locks it before reaching to switch off the light, enveloping the room in darkness. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. The sun had long since disappeared, hours slipping away unnoticed in trying to find a way to help your friend. A second later, the white walls covered in music memorabilia and anime posters, glow crimson from the light of the LED Akatsuki cloud lamp you gifted him for Christmas.

“There we go.” He says lightly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your heart.

Jisung's trying his best to put you at ease, and you're grateful for it, even if it's not working. You're lying there, heart pounding like a drum, with the soft red glow of his bedroom casting shadows all around. Your breath hitches, nerves tingling as you steal a glance at him by the bedside. Your fingers toy with the sheets' edge and butterflies dance wildly in your stomach. This is risky, but you're only doing it to help him out, right? Nothing more. Yet, there's something brewing beneath the surface, something you're both feeling but haven't quite put into words or even thoughts. Not right now at least.

Jisung casually strips off his tank and tosses it onto his computer chair, standing over you. Even though you've seen him shirtless a million times, it feels different this time. Probably because the setting is more intimate. You can't help but admire the way his muscles are defined, how they seem to mold perfectly to his body. Every contour, every line, down to his slender waist, captivates you. Then, as he lowers his shorts, you find yourself holding your breath, unable to look away. He's got to be a good seven inches you think. Slightly curving upwards, angry and red with the veins ridiculously prominent. You don't even stop yourself from fantasizing about how he'd feel on your tongue. The temptation to reach out and touch him is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, afraid of what it might mean.

“Do you think you can take all of me y/n?” He asks curiously and you look up at him.

His features soften in the dim light. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the confident guy you're used to seeing. It tugs at your heart, stirring up a mix of emotions you can't quite begin to untangle.

His question, It's not a cocky one. In fact he sounds a little bit self conscious, worried even. Like he's afraid of hurting you or causing you discomfort. As much as you try to not think of him as your best friend right now as a means of psyching yourself out, you can't. He's your sweet Hannie, he's the talented genius J.One, a rap name he created when he was 16. He's your Sungie, who sat with you when you were the new kid in middle school. He needs you… needs your help. What kind of friend would turn away from a friend in need?

"I can handle it, don't worry about me, Ji. Let's just get you back to normal, okay?" You reach out your hand towards him with a subtle tremble exposing your nervousness.

"Yeah, okay, lovely. Just... let me know if you want to stop, okay? Promise?” Jisung exhales, his breath jittery with nerves waiting for your response.

“I promise. Now just relax and fuck me.” You whisper.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

He moves closer to you, placing his hand in yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you. The worries and hesitations you had vanish, replaced by a strong need to take care of this for him, to ease his pain. You feel the heat emanating from his body as he positions himself between your legs, gazing down at you with wide eyes.

He chews on his bottom lip and wraps his hand around the base of his cock with a hiss. He's still sensitive from the pain and his recent orgasm but he lines himself up with the entrance to your core, noticing how your arousal glistens in the red lights.

“Do you normally get this wet y/n?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious tilting his head to one side.

You hide your face with your hands, inhaling deeply. It's like you're a virgin all over again and this is your first time. You're nervous out of your mind and he's asking you a question like that. He's just curious, sure, but... he's Jisung... Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you slowly lower your hands. His eyes meet yours, and you can see everything you're feeling reflected in them.

You swallow hard, “Honestly, no. I've never been this wet, Jisung. Not even for myself.” You tell him, keeping eye contact so he knows you aren't lying.

“Fuck, that's hot.” He whispers. His cock twitches and rubs along your folds. “Ah, shit.” He winces and moans at the contact, feeling his cock stiffen even more beyond his belief.

Your body jerks at the unexpected touch, causing you to inhale sharply. His fingers lightly graze the curve of your waist, as if he's afraid you might vanish at any moment. His eyes, intense and penetrating, hold yours captive and heat pools low in your belly. Jisung's touch sends a shiver all over your body when his fingertips slowly begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Suddenly it's hard to deny just how bad you want him.

“Han Jisung if you don't stop stalling and just fuck me, I'm getting dressed and calling Chan.” Your breath comes out in short, shallow gasps. That brush against you was too much and not enough. You want him. God, you want him so bad it's almost painful.

“Okay, okay sorry. I'm just nervous. Fuck, I feel like a virgin all over again.” He says voicing your earlier thoughts out loud, making you both laugh loudly.

It feels almost normal. Like you're not about to let sleep with your long time friend. Like he's just above you now because you were wrestling for the remote. But after the laughter subsides, Jisung gathers up his courage and pushes the tip of his cock inside you without any restrictions. You're so wet that he slides right in. You both let out a moan, the sound echoing off the walls of his room, enveloping you in an intimate bubble. In the dim light, the boundary between friendship and something more blurs, and you find yourself swept away by the growing need. Jisung can feel his heart beating harder in his chest as he loses himself to the sweet feeling of you around the tip of him. A growing need intensifies within him with every passing second. He's got just the head in and he wants to slam into and cum right now.

"More. Keep going," you whisper, your voice quiet and dripping with lust. He bites down hard and complies slightly hesitating. Slowly he pushes further inside of you.

Your fingers tremble as they brush against his arms as he steadily inch by inch presses forward getting deeper, drawing moans out of you that could be heard from Pluto. It takes all of Jisung's focus to slide his entire length into you. He didn't want to cum just from sticking the tip in. But with each thrust into your eager pussy, brings him closer to bursting inside you.

"Fuck.” He breathes out as he fully sinks into you, his hand laying over your stomach gently. With a soft sigh, he leans in, resting his other hand beside your head. You feel incredible and he's reminded of the only moment he fantasized about you. A distant memory flooding back, something he tried to push away ages ago.

You tagged along with him, Chan, and Binnie for a vacation to the beach one scorching summer. He couldn't help but notice the way you looked in that red bikini with the guitar pick pattern. The way it barely covered your tits and ass. The sight made him feel insane. He was thinking things about you that he hadn't ever before. He used the fact that he couldn't swim just to sit in the sand, secretly enjoying the sight of you splashing around in the water. Every splash, every droplet clinging to your skin, it was like a fantasy playing out before his eyes. He imagined plowing into you from behind in the shower, your breast pressed against the shower tiles as you took all of him. Every detail was vivid and intense in his mind. That night, while you peacefully slept beside him in the hotel room you shared, he couldn't shake the images from his mind. Unable to sleep due to the ache in his cock, he pumped himself into his fist while thoughts of you consumed his mind. Guilt filled him but he pushed it aside, chalking it up to normal hormonal desires. It had been years since he even had those thoughts, until now.

Now he's buried deep inside you, all because of a dumb decision to try those enhancement pills. All because he wanted a mind-blowing, toe curling, orgasm. But deep down, he's kinda grateful for messing up. With you beneath him, he can fuck you instead of his hand. It's been too long since he's fucked anyone. He wants to savor this moment, take his time feeling your walls flutter around him since this won't happen again. As the urge to cum fades, he eases out of you, leaving just the head of his cock inside and begins moving again, slowly, teasingly, watching your reaction with his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he rocks in and out, feeling your tightness gripping him in a way he's never experienced before. It’s better than anything he's felt with his exes. He's in awe of how amazing you make him feel. With a forceful thrust, he drives himself deeper into you, pausing when you cry out in pleasure.

"Damn it, y/n, you feel amazing. Fuck, so good.” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Can I... Can I go faster? Please, tell me I can fuck you faster, baby. Let me make you feel even better." He begs, grunting softly and shifting his hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, forcing a needy whimper from you.

You bite your lip, a rush of pleasure flooding your body as you nod in response, too overwhelmed to speak. Your breath hitches, coming in rapid gasps, and your legs tremble around him.

“Thank you, fuck.” He withdraws with a sharp pull, then eases back in hard, making you cry out. “Stop me if I'm too rough, baby. You gotta tell me sweetie. Can you do that?”

You nod, but that's not quite what he wants. Jisung wants to hear you, no, needs to hear you. His hand moves, brushing against your skin until he finds your nipple, teasingly taking it between his fingers. Your breath catches as he pinches it gently and rolls it slowly between his thumb and index finger. He feels your body react, your walls tightening around him when you whimper softly.

"Oh!" You gasp, unable to control that blissful feeling of pleasure that runs through you. He does it again, a little harder this time. The corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky grin when you arch your back.

“Yes Ji! Fuck, I'll tell you.” Your eyes close and you grip the blankets on the bed in tight hands.

“Thank you y/n. God you're the fucking, mm! You're the best. Knew only you could help me. I knew you'd take care of me.” Jisung whispers, gripping the sheets by your head tight, his fingers curling around the fabric and sliding himself back into you. The bed creaks beneath you, echoing his movements as he fucks you harder. “Knew you'd make me feel good,” He murmurs, his voice thick with sex. "Tell me, y/n, does that feel good? Does my y/n feel good because of me? Tell me baby.”

Does he always talk like this with everyone he's been with before? You wonder and you realize he's way more experienced than you imagined. The thought makes you jealous but the feeling doesn't last. Each push of his cock inside of you pushes that green eyed demon out of your mind.

His voice, smooth like honey, drips with sweetness, coating you with each word he utters. The way he speaks to you only makes you wetter and you're craving him more. He's not holding back anymore, lost in the moment where all that matters is pleasure. Yours, his… you both need more. He's not waiting for a response; he knows you're speechless, your words stuck in your throat, your silence speaking volumes. With one hand supporting himself, he cups your breast, teasing and massaging the flesh, making you squirm under him before taking your nipple into his mouth. A low, guttural moan escapes him, reverberating through you body. You moan passionately, feeling the heat of his tongue against your skin. When he gently bites the hard peaks of your nipple your body arches into him and your left hand cradles his head.

Jisung inhales deeply, and your scent envelops him, drawing him in with its intoxicating allure. "Damn, you smell so good," Jisung murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips and his heart literally skips a beat in his chest.

He swore nothing would change, but his heart rebels against that weak promise. Every day, he'll crave you more. Every glance, every touch will only intensify the want for you. The need to have you will only grow stronger. Your hands are all over him now, leaving invisible imprints that seem to penetrate straight to his heart. He finds himself addicted to your nails grazing his skin, the way your fingers weave through his hair, pulling him in closer to you with each tug.

Feeling his body pressing against yours, every movement sends waves of pleasure through you. Your hips respond to him, moving in sync and the sensation of his cock against your sweet spot makes you gasp softly. With each grind, the warmth grows blazing inside you. Jisung pauses, his lips leaving your nipple, and gazes down at you, his tousled hair framing his face in a way that makes him look irresistible in this moment. There's a silent shift between you that makes it harder to breathe.

"Close, aren't you, y/n?" he pants, a teasing grin playing on his lips. Something inside you explodes and a surge of electricity courses through you. It's not just the impending climax that has your insides uncoiling; but from that look he gives you. It's overwhelming in the best way possible. You feel like you're free falling through the clouds.

"Almost, Ji. So close," You breathe out softly.

"Yeah, baby, me too," He murmurs, his words laced with urgency. “I need you to come first. I'm gonna pull out." You shake your head and cling to him tighter, not wanting him to stop.

"Cum inside me, Sungie. Just keep going. Harder, Ji. Right there. Fuck!" Your voice grows louder with each word.

"Are you sure, y/n?" he asks, and when you nod, he grins at you. "Gonna give you all of me, baby. Fill you up real good. Gonna make a mess." He trails off with a soft curse. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he adds, his voice becoming more raw, his desire evident in every breath. "You feel so good, y/n. So fucking good."

Jisung's hips buck wildly, thrusting faster and you scream his name, pleading with him to not stop, to not hold back, to fill you up. He's trembling, his breath coming out in ragged grunts as he pounds his cock into you, driving deeper with every thrust. Your body tenses up, and you manage to gasp out that you're about to cum just before it hits you like a tidal wave. And when it hits, fuck, it's like fireworks go off behind your eyelids. The most explosive sensation you've ever experienced.

“Gah, y/n! keep cumming, just like that. Y/n, you're gonna make me cum. So tight. Yeah, keep squeezing me with your pussy. I'm gonna cum. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming baby." He moans, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel it deep when Jisung cums. It jets out in spurts forcefully, filling you and the sensation rips another unexpected orgasm from you. His thrusts slows to a gentle pace, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until your muscles relax around him. With a shudder, he finally stills, collapsing onto you panting, his weight supported by his forearms. Cupping your face in his hand, he looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and longing in his eyes that makes you feel indescribable.

Your soft moans and the way you're clinging on to him, gives him a different sort of pleasure. Just knowing he's the one making you feel good, is a heady feeling, one that makes him want to hold onto this moment longer. But it's done and over now and he feels disappointed that such an amazing feeling, like being nestled inside of you, won't happen again.

Jisung's heart is pounding in his chest as he moves his face closer to you. His impulses taking over, "Can I kiss you?" he breathes out, voice shaky looking down at you.

You give a hesitant nod, feeling suddenly shy despite what just happened between you two, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. It's gentle, soft, sweeter than you expected. He doesn't use his tongue, unsure if you'd even want him to but he couldn't resist the urge to kiss you. The way you looked up at him, so pretty with those heavy lids and his cum dripping out of you… he just had to taste your lips, just once.

When he goes to pull away, you grab onto him, pulling him back and deepening the kiss. Your lips part, inviting him to explore you with his tongue, which he eagerly does. Your muscles tighten, and you realize his cock, which had been softening earlier, is now growing harder inside you. You gasp, intending to let him know it worked but before you can, he starts moving again and your gasp turns into moaning. There's no need for you two to keep having sex now that his erection can go away but you don't stop him. This time it's not just about relieving his pain or a means to an end, it's about something more. You both feel it, the change that he promised wouldn't happen, only you don't seem to care. No, you encourage Jisung to keep moving, to go deeper. You part your legs for him even more, letting him have all of you and surrender to the feelings pulsing through your body. It's all so new, these intense emotions you've developed for him.

Jisung's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust unhurried. His cock slips out leisurely only to ease back in, a rhythm that makes you ache for more. More speed, more friction, more everything. You want to beg him to move faster, but the intensity of his stare leaves you feeling tongue-tied. In this moment, you're the epitome of beauty to him. Your unfocused gaze, your neediness, it's all so intoxicating, urging Jisung to continue his languid movements. He watches as your eyes struggle to focus, blinking several times before locking onto him once more and he loves it. It's as if each blink only deepens the desire he has for you.

He’s amazed that you're letting him continue to fuck you, even though there's no real reason to keep going. But damn, your body has him hooked already. You're spoiling him for any other girl he might end up with, unless... No, he won't let himself go there. He can't think of you as his, not after the promise he made. Still, he craves more of you in every possible way. Jisung's body trembles as he enters you, feeling your muscles tighten around him, and it brings a grin to his face knowing he can coax another orgasm out of you. He wonders how many can say they were able to make you cum multiple times. Did they take care of you like him? He thinks cockily. With a grunt that mingles with your soft moans, he thrusts harder, pushing deeper into you, feeling the tightness around his cock. It's a rhythm of in and out, urging his cock deeper, with nowhere to go.

Did any of your past hookups take their time like this? Fucking you nice and slow, or were they all just in it for a quick nut? Not Jisung, though. He could never, would never just fuck you for his own satisfaction. Your pleasure matters to him. It's what does it for him. He gets off on seeing you lose control because of him, on making you feel good. He doesn't even need to be buried deep inside your cunt to cum. He'd cum in his pants again fingering you or while you rode his face. Just the thought of you cumming on his face is enough to make him explode right now. The sounds you make, your touch, they're his undoing. That's why he came so hard earlier when all you did was caress his knee. He knows that now.

He's finding it impossible to hold back anymore, despite wanting you to cum first. He can't though, not when you gently place your hand on his cheek. That simple touch pushes him over the edge, and he pours himself into you with a raw moan, unable to control himself any longer. His legs shake, his toes curl, and he experiences an intense orgasm, far beyond what he had hoped the pill would give him. But it's not the pill—it's you. He knows it's you.

Watching Jisung cum inside you for the second time, you feel yourself reaching your own orgasm. With soft gasps, your cunt shudders around him. The look on Jisung's face when he cums is easily becoming addicting to you now. You could probably cum just by that look alone. It's like he's lost in the moment, completely taken over by pleasure. His face scrunches up, brows knitting together, round cheeks puffing out with each deep exhale.

You both lie there catching your breaths, quiet and completely still. His cock's still buried inside you, keeping you close. Your eyes lock, taking in every little detail of each other's faces while you both catch your breath. He could stay like this forever, your pussy snug around his cock, and he would've. Only if the sudden sound of the front door swinging open and Changbin shouting about pizza didn't burst that private bubble. It startles you both. So much so that Jisung jerks out of you with a loud pop and scrambling to his feet, making you squeal in surprise.

"Shit, do you think they heard that, Ji?" you whisper hastily pulling his sheets over your body. He shoots you a glance from across the room, a grin spreading across his face. He loves that post sex afterglow radiating from you. You've never looked hotter than you do right now, all sprawled out and naked in his bed.

“Nah, I think we're okay for now. They might just think we're taking a nap like we usually do after binge watching something.” He tells you. “We should probably get dressed in case though.” You nod and when you go to get out of the bed, he stops you. “Wait, lay back. It's my mess, let me clean it up. It's the least I can do for you.”

"Alright..." you murmur, settling back onto the bed with the blanket draped over your chest, your legs parting invitingly for Jisung. Your eyes drift to the ceiling, as you await his touch, but he hesitates. "Ji, what's—"

Your words catch in your throat as you feel the brush of his hair against your thighs and his mouth on you. "Oh, God, Ji. Fuck, that's not what I had in mind," You gasp out just as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He glances up at you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, his lips glistening with a mixture of your shared juices. "Do you want me to stop, baby? I've got the towel right here," he offers, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, pleasure pooling low in your belly. "No, don't stop," you urge softly, your voice laced with need. "Keep going. Please.”

You collapse onto the bed, feeling his head sink between your thighs. His lips and teeth graze your inner thigh, and you bite the sheets that are tightly balled up in your hands, trying to stifle any noises that might alert Chan and Changbin. When Jisung plunges his hot tongue inside of you, eating his cum and yours from your cunt like it's a five star gourmet meal, you almost let out the most pornographic sounding moan from the twirling motion of his tongue. You grab a pillow with quick hands covering your mouth so that it muffles your moans and cries.

He makes quick work in giving you another orgasm with that wicked tongue of his. You would've gladly returned the favor too if he didn't already cum in the towel that was supposed to be used for you. His mouth stayed locked on your clit while he moaned and pumped his cock into the towel. The vibration of his lips making you forget all about that thing you keep stashed in your bedside drawer at home. Yeah, Jisung eating your pussy like he was starving definitely didn't need to happen either but you're not complaining.

After getting dressed and making sure Chan and Changbin wouldn't notice anything odd, you and Jisung joined the duo and settled in for pizza, beer, and a movie. The TV casts a soft glow as some suspenseful action movie plays, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a different kind of fantasy world. It's like your minds are synced, both drifting away from the movie. You and Jisung steal glances at each other in the dark living room, only to quickly look away.

Countless times he's caught you looking back in the direction of his room with a blush on your cheeks. He's hard just knowing that you're thinking about what happened and he wonders if you can still feel him like he can feel you. He just wants to say fuck the movie, to grab you by your wrist and drag you back to his room and fuck you again. He was actually worried that you would go through with the promise of pretending like sleeping together didn't happen but sometimes, in this case anyway, promises can be broken.

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 004. the blueprint.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 4.3k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: holyyyyy its finally here !!! this chapter was totally supposed to be the chapter that kind of puts things in perspective and establishes some world building BUT ALAS I GOT SIDETRACKED... -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

The lecture hall is silent, save for the occasional shuffle of paper and the measured rhythm of Anaxagoras’ voice. The afternoon light cuts sharp lines across the rows of desks, dust motes drifting in the air like suspended thought, catching on the edges of his words.

“A fractal begins with a base function,” he says, voice steady but threaded with something deeper—something that hums in the spaces between his syllables. “This is its essence. The foundation upon which all complexity unfolds.”

He doesn’t write an equation. Instead, his hands move through the air in clean, deliberate arcs, shaping the concept in motion.

“The Mandelbrot set,” he continues. “begins with a simple recursive function. A value is taken, transformed, then fed back into itself. Each iteration alters the outcome—but the fundamental pattern remains.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his next words settle into the quiet.

“Small differences in the starting value can lead to vastly different structures. But no matter how much it expands, the same signature is imprinted within it. Recursion does not create randomness. It does not erase its origin. Instead, it refines, elaborates, expands. The original form is never lost—only expressed in infinite variation.”

The pen in your hand is warm from where you've been holding it too tightly.

Anaxagoras moves seamlessly into the next thread of thought. “The human mind operates on patterns,” he says, underlining the phrase on the board with a slow, deliberate stroke. “Not in the sense of mindless repetition, but as a structured, evolving process. We recognize, reinforce, and refine information based on prior input.”

Something tugs at the edge of your mind.

“Consider language acquisition,” he continues. “A child is not born knowing a language, yet the structure for it already exists. Exposure, experience, and interaction shape the outcome, but the capacity is inherent. The process is iterative—the same foundation, refined through use, altered by context.”

Your pen hesitates, ink pooling in a single dot on the page.

Ilias nudges your arm. “That same page has been open for five minutes,” he mutters.

You don’t answer. 

It’s there. Right there, just beyond reach—woven between the lines of his lecture and the contours of your own thoughts.

Your gaze lifts to him.

Anaxagoras isn’t looking at you directly, but you recognize it now—the way his tone shifts when he lingers on certain ideas. His phrasing is precise, yet measured, as though anticipating the moment someone follows him past the obvious.

Anticipating you.

Ilias nudges you again. “You’re making the face.”

You blink. “What face?”

“The one where you’re about to say something wildly specific that sounds normal to you but makes the rest of us reconsider whether we know what words mean.”

You swat at him without looking, keeping your attention fixed forward.

"If individuality is a function of iteration," you say suddenly, the thought slipping free like a thread pulled from a greater weave, "then at what point does the original form stop being relevant?"

Silence.

A shift in the air—it’s subtle.

Anaxagoras pauses. The chalk in his hand stills just before it touches the board. But he doesn’t turn. Not yet.

"You assume it does," he says instead, his voice measured. "Why?"

You hesitate. "Because—" You try to grasp at the thought, but it’s slipping, unraveling. "Because if every iteration changes, then the original—"

"Changes how?"

You blink. "Through variance. Accumulated difference."

He nods, but it’s not satisfaction. It’s expectation. "And yet?"

You frown. "And yet it still carries the same process—"

"So is it severance?"

You inhale sharply. "No."

He turns now, finally, and the weight of his gaze lands fully on you. "Then what is it?"

You search for the word, the shape of the idea curling at the edge of your thoughts.

"Extension?" you murmur.

Anaxagoras watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then—so slightly you almost miss it—his fingers tighten around the chalk.

"Hm."

A pause. 

The weight of his gaze—assessing, acknowledging, remembering, as though he’s not just hearing your words but recognizing them, as though he’s tracing a pattern he’s seen before but can’t quite name.

Then, just as smoothly, he turns back to the board as if nothing happened, resuming his explanation.

You exhale sharply, pressing your lips together to stifle a grin.

You’re not sure if you should thank Anaxagoras or be absolutely, thoroughly frustrated with him.

Maybe both.

He takes a step forward, chalk tapping against the board in a series of crisp strokes as he shifts the topic. And then—

“Ilias.”

Ilias straightens instantly, caught mid-whisper.

Anaxagoras doesn’t turn. “If a system is defined by iterative transformation, how do we distinguish between growth and replication?”

Ilias scoffs, leaning back like this is the easiest question in the world. “Obviously, if a system changes with each iteration, it’s growth. If it just repeats the same process without meaningful difference, it’s replication.”

A beat.

Anaxagoras finally glances over his shoulder. “Incorrect.”

Ilias blinks. “What.”

Anaxagoras turns fully now, expression unreadable. “Your answer assumes that change alone defines growth. It does not.”

From beside him, you let out an involuntary snort.

Ilias’ head snaps toward you. “Oh, now you have an opinion?”

You press a hand to your mouth, eyes gleaming with barely suppressed amusement.

Anaxagoras waits.

Ilias flounders for a moment, then straightens again, clearing his throat like he can salvage this. “Okay, well—uh. If the transformation process is… uhh… significant enough, then—”

A long silence.

You don’t even try to hide your giggle this time.

Ilias throws his hands up. “Why are you laughing? You got to say your freaky little statement in peace!”

Anaxagoras raises an eyebrow. “Language.”

Ilias pales.

You wheeze, turning away.

Ilias exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair like he’s fighting for his life. “Alright, fine. Recursion isn’t just about repetition, but about… contextual… refinement..?”

The silence hung thick, oppressive, as Ilias struggled to string together a coherent thought. His hands fumbled with the papers in front of him, and his voice cracked under the pressure. It was clear to anyone with half a brain that his attempt to impress Anaxagoras had backfired—again.

Then, cutting through the stillness, came a voice. Quiet but firm.

"It’s not just about change. It’s about the system responding to its environment. If it doesn’t, it’s not really transformation. It’s just… repetition."

Ilias’s head snapped up. The voice had no warning, no introduction—just a cool, steady presence that seemed to effortlessly cut through the tension.

For a split second, he blinked in confusion, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He’d been so caught up in his own rambling, he hadn’t noticed anyone else was around. But there, seated a couple chairs over, was a girl he hadn’t seen before. Dark, hair, eyes sharp with quiet confidence, arms folded across her chest. She was a mystery—a calm, collected contrast to the chaos that he had just created.

Ilias swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "That was… uh. Really well put." His laugh was quieter this time, edged with something like genuine relief. "I was—yeah. Definitely struggling there." He hesitated, then, almost earnestly: "Thanks."

The girl didn’t say anything right away. Just tilted her head slightly, studying him with a kind of quiet amusement.

Anaxagoras’s gaze flicked between them, the silence stretching just a beat longer than comfortable. Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose, barely a sigh but just enough to be perceptible. His eyes landed back on Ilias.

"Struggling is a generous term," Anaxagoras said dryly.

Ilias groaned, dropping his head onto his desk with a thud.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Anaxagoras exhaled slowly, a faint, begrudging noise escaping him. His gaze flickered back to the girl for a moment, a brief acknowledgment that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“Acceptable,” he said, his voice crisp and without fanfare, before his attention returned to Ilias. “This time.”

It was as close to praise as Anaxagoras was ever likely to give.

You grin. “That was impressive. Truly.”

Ilias glares. “I hate you.”

But across the room, Anaxagoras’ gaze flickers back to you for a fraction of a second—just enough for you to notice, just enough to make your pulse quicken.

And then, as always, he moves on as though nothing happened.

Yet, your thoughts linger, trailing behind you as the lecture ends, as you gather your things, as you step into the quiet corridors where the conversation still churns in your mind, unfinished.

The evening air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves as you and Ilias walk down the winding campus path, the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes the only sound for a few moments. It's a comfortable silence—both of you are still processing the mental gymnastics Anaxagoras just put the class through.

And then, of course, Ilias ruins it.

“I’m being publicly executed in that classroom,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Every. Single. Lecture.”

You glance at him, amused. “What are you even talking about?”

He throws his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the part where he treats me like an enrichment activity for the class while you get revered like some kind of academic deity.”

You snort. “I am not—”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he cuts in, shaking his head dramatically. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the designated clown. To live in fear of the moment he decides today is the day to obliterate me for sport.”

You raise a brow. “Maybe if you stopped making questionable philosophical takes—”

“No. It’s too late for me. But you—” He points accusingly. “You get the pauses.”

You blink. “The what?”

“The pauses,” he repeats, exasperated. “You ask something, and he actually stops. Like, for a second, he’s just standing there, processing, recalibrating his entire existence before he answers like he saw it coming all along, and proceeds worships the ground you walk on. Meanwhile, I breathe wrong, and he materializes a ten-minute verbal essay on why I’m incorrect.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Oh, it is,” he deadpans. “I’m a walking rhetorical question to that man. You, on the other hand? He actually looks pleased when you speak. It’s sickening.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you,” he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, before something catches the corner of his eye– "Hey! It’s a dog!"

You barely have time to process before he veers off-course, pointing toward a scruffy-looking mutt curled up near a campus bench. The dog lifts its head, ears perking, but doesn’t bolt. Its fur is a patchwork of colors—mostly brown, with streaks of white and black—and though it looks a little unkempt, it seems well-fed.

"Do you think it's a stray?" you ask, stepping closer.

"I mean, it’s wearing a bandana." Ilias crouches, squinting at the little fabric tied around its neck. The dog watches him, tail thumping hesitantly against the ground. "Could be a lost pet. Or maybe it just—"

The dog trots forward, sniffing at your shoes before nudging its head into Ilias’ leg. He yelps, stiffening. The dog wags its tail harder.

"Okay," he breathes, lowering his hand. "Okay. This is happening."

Just as his fingers brush the dog’s fur, a voice interrupts. "Ah—hey, hey, don't scare him!"

You turn towards the source—a striking figure with windswept white hair, piercing blue eyes, and an air of effortless charm, jogging up to you, grinning like you’ve all just been reunited after years apart. His crisp, button-down shirt is a pristine shade of ivory, tailored to fit perfectly without appearing rigid. Over it, he wears a sleek, deep-blue blazer, unbuttoned, its lapels lined with subtle gold embroidery that catches the light as he moves. The blazer is paired with well-fitted slacks of a similar navy hue, pressed yet comfortably worn. A fine gold watch glints on his wrist, peeking out whenever he gestures animatedly. His shoes—polished but practical—carry a quiet confidence, much like him.

His energy is immediate, warm and bright, like he’s been waiting all day for a reason to talk to someone. 

"Sorry about that!" He slows to a stop, catching his breath. "This little guy's not a stray—he just likes hanging around here. We feed him sometimes."

You blink. "We?" 

The dog immediately abandons Ilias and darts across, tail wagging furiously as a second man crouches, offering food from his hand—a stark contrast. This one has sharp red eyes, dusty red hair falls at his shoulders. He, in contrast, wears black. A fitted, long-sleeved dress shirt clings just right, the top few buttons left undone, exposing the faintest hint of skin. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing the inked patterns winding down his left arm. A single silver ring rests on his hand, catching the light as he idly scratches behind the stray dog’s ears. His charcoal-gray slacks fit comfortably, cinched by a belt with an unembellished black buckle. Unlike… blondie’s polished look, his ensemble leans effortlessly sharp—a perfect balance of refinement and disregard. 

"That answers that," you murmur.

The white-haired one—Phainon, judging by the way his companion sighs his name in exasperation—grins. "Sorry if he harassed you. He’s just a friendly little guy. I’m Phainon, by the way! And the one who’s pretending not to give a damn right now is Mydei."

At his name, the other man—Mydei glances up briefly, gaze flickering over you and Ilias before returning to his task. He places the container on the ground, and the dog immediately perks up, trotting over to eat.

Ilias, still kneeling awkwardly, exhales. "Okay. Not a stray. Noted."

Phainon beams. "Yeah, he just likes people! Kind of like me."

"Don’t compare yourself to a dog," Mydei mutters, scratching behind the mutt’s ears. Despite his dry tone, there’s a distinct lack of bite to it.

You exchange a glance with Ilias, who looks like he's trying to decide whether this interaction is going to be amusing or exhausting.

Mydei, meanwhile, finishes setting down the food, and the dog immediately perks up, trotting over to eat. Phainon watches with fondness before turning back to you both.

Ilias, undeterred, crouches slightly, watching as the dog happily devours its food. Then he tilts his head. "Wait, does he have a name?"

Phainon perks up. "Oh! Yeah, we call him—" but before the word fully escapes, Mydei cuts in flatly. "No, he doesn’t."

Phainon sighs, as if wounded. "Well, someone refuses to name him anything else–" 

"He doesn’t need a name," Mydei replies, scratching the dog behind the ears. "He’s fine as he is.” 

“We call him—his name is Dog." Phainon interrupts and proudly exclaims. 

Mydei exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "'Dog' is not a name."

"It's a perfectly functional name," Phainon counters, crossing his arms. "It tells you exactly what he is."

"It tells me you’re uncreative," Mydei mutters.

Ilias lets out a quiet laugh. "The dogs name is… Dog?"

Phainon nods enthusiastically. "Yes! And he responds to it! Watch—Dog!"

The dog does, in fact, lift his head, ears twitching.

Mydei gives him a long, unimpressed stare. "He also responds to literally any sound you make. You could call him ‘Toaster’ and he’d do the same thing."

Phainon gasps. "Toaster is kind of cute."

"Absolutely not."

You exchange a glance with Ilias, both of you barely holding back laughter. The dog—Dog?—wags his tail, blissfully unaware of the existential debate happening over his name.

Phainon turns his attention back to you, his grin softer now, less performative. "Anyways, you two should join us in the evenings if you’d like to befriend Dog over here! We usually hang out around here and—well, I do… and Mydei pretends he just happens to be here."

"Because I do," Mydei deadpans, but he doesn’t refute any further, turning his gaze to you instead.

Ilias glances at you. "Well, I don’t have anything better to do."

You hum, considering. The dog has finished eating and is now curled up against Mydei’s side, content. Phainon looks at you expectantly, his posture light, easy.

...That does not sound like a productive use of your time.

"... I’m in." you say. 

Phainon cheers, Ilias pats you on the back, and Mydei only shakes his head, unimpressed.

But even as laughter rings in the air, your notebook sits heavy in your bag, pressing against your side like a restless thing. The pages whisper against each other with every step, the unfinished nonsensical equations scrawled within tugging at you like a sleeve caught on a nail—persistent, insistent, refusing to be ignored.

Maybe that's what brought you here, you tell yourself.

The door to Anaxagoras’ office door creaks as you push it open, stepping into the dimly lit office. Anaxagoras looks up from his desk, dark eyes flicking to the threshold with the mild expectation of a routine interruption. But when he sees you—alone, unannounced—something in his expression shifts.

You don’t exactly wait for permission, as you cross the room, pull out the chair opposite him, and sit.

His pen hovers over the page. He does not tell you to leave, nor does he acknowledge your quiet audacity. Instead, he sets his pen down, fingers pressing lightly against the desk’s edge, and waits. A slight lift of his brow, but no verbal response. Just patience. A steady, expectant silence.

"Professor," you greet, as if a sliver of formality might excuse the sheer audacity of your unannounced arrival.

Your gaze flickers down to your notebook, its pages filled with hurried, half-formed thoughts—equations scrawled into the margins, trailing off as if they were abandoned mid-realization. You don’t need to check them. You already know they lead back to the same question.

"The base function," you begin, voice measured, "remains the same, no matter how many iterations occur. No matter how much complexity emerges, the original structure is never erased."

Anaxagoras leans back slightly in his chair, studying you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for theorems that refuse to be solved.

"And?"

You exhale, fingertips brushing over the ink-streaked paper. "If that applies to consciousness—if the mind isn’t just pattern recognition, but recursion—then that means identity isn’t fixed. It’s an evolving expression of an underlying structure." 

Something flickers in his gaze. He rises.

Not abruptly, not impatiently, but as if drawn by the gravity of the conversation. His chair scrapes softly against the floor as he crosses the small space between you. He does not sit at the edge of the desk, does not fold his arms in some passive stance of authority.

Instead, he leans over your notebook, shoulders nearly brushing yours.

The scent of coffee lingers on his shirt, mingling with the fainter trace of old paper and ink. His gaze moves over the mess of your notes, scanning the tangled web of equations and annotations, before settling on you again.

"You're making an assumption," he says, voice lower now, more measured.

You tilt your chin slightly, meeting his gaze. "Of what nature?"

His fingers hover near the edge of the page, not quite touching, but close enough that the movement draws your attention. "You assume that the core of identity—the thing that stays the same through every iteration—is purely structural." 

The silence stretches between you, taut as a thread on the verge of snapping.

Your breath is steady, but something in your pulse betrays you. He is too close. Not inappropriately so, not in a way that crosses any boundaries—only in a way that makes the air shift. The room smaller. The moment stretched just slightly beyond its logical bounds.

It would be easy to answer. To argue, to press forward, to let the academic current carry you both into safer waters.

Instead, you only watch him. 

And for the first time, you wonder if he feels it too.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your pen.

"The base function has to be structural," you counter, though your voice is softer now, measured against the weight of the space between you. "If it weren’t—if it were mutable at its core—then what holds continuity between iterations? What prevents identity from collapsing into chaos? What keeps one’s identity from falling apart?"

Anaxagoras doesn’t move away. He studies you the way he studies difficult problems—patiently, intently, as if waiting for the answer to emerge in real time.

"And yet," he muses, "if it were purely structural, if the function was rigid rather than dynamic, then identity would be deterministic. There would be no true variation between one individual. and another"

Your breath catches—not at the words, but at the way he delivers them. Low, deliberate, as if testing their effect. 

Your eyes flicker back to your notes, searching for the answer already buried in the ink-scrawled equations.

"If recursion alone dictated identity," he continues, fingers brushing the page near a half-written derivation, "then all of our decisions would be predictable, predetermined by the constraints of that function. But something else is at play."

You glance back up at him. "Emergent complexity."

A small, almost imperceptible nod. "Iteration isn't replication. Each step in it's expansion is influenced not just by the base function, but by external conditions—context, interference, interaction. No two paths are identical. Every recursive process has the potential for divergence."

You inhale sharply, following the thought as it unfolds, as it threads itself between the logic you already understand and the realization taking shape. 

He watches the shift in your expression—sees you arrive at the same conclusion.

"If identity," you say slowly, "is shaped not just by its internal function, but by its interactions—"

"Then when two distinct but intrinsically linked patterns cross paths," he interjects, "neither walks away unchanged."

The words land too heavily.

Not just because they are true, because they make sense.

But because he isn't speaking in hypotheticals anymore.

For a moment, neither of you move. He is still leaning over your desk, too close, breath dusting lightly against your shoulder—warm, uneven, just barely there. His presence presses into the space between the pages, the margins, the frantic scrawl of your thoughts. 

Your fingers brush against the edge of your notes. "And what happens," you murmur, almost to yourself, "when two of these... structures become entangled?"

Anaxagoras holds your gaze.

"You tell me," he says.

A slow breath. Hesitation.

"...Change is inevitable," you murmur. "Not a choice, not an accident—just a consequence of proximity." 

Something flickers across his expression—too brief to name, too quick to be certain.

He should correct you. Should challenge the conclusion you’ve drawn.

Instead, he watches you, head tilting just slightly—less like a professor considering a theory, more like something else entirely.

Your breath stills. The moment lingers too long.

You shift slightly, glancing down at your notes.

"Perhaps," Anaxagoras says at last, his voice quieter than before, "but not all change is equal."

"... And what determines the difference?" you ask, softer now.

His eyes don’t leave yours. "The depth of the resonance."

The night air hums with a quiet sort of clarity as you step out of the grove, the weight of the conversation still curling around your ribs like an uncollapsed waveform. The campus pathways are near-empty at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. Each footstep crunches softly against the gravel, the rhythm steady, measured—nothing like the chaotic pulse beneath your skin.

You aren’t entirely sure how long you sat there in his office. The concept of time had blurred somewhere between the pages of your notes and the weight of his gaze. Between the fractal recursion of thought and the unsettling realization that—perhaps—you weren’t just speaking of equations anymore.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you walk.

(If recursion applies not just to thought but to interaction—if the base function of identity is altered through contact—then what does it mean that his presence lingers in your mind long after the conversation has ended?)

The wind shifts, cool against your skin, but it does little to steady the unshaken cadence of your pulse.

Anaxagoras had let the silence stretch before you left. No dismissal, no final remark to wrap the conversation into something neat and containable. Just that lingering weight—his dark eyes studying you, as if waiting for you to arrive at the realization before he acknowledged it himself.

(The depth of the resonance..?)

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as if that alone could unravel the thought from your mind.

Your dormitory looms ahead, its familiar outline silhouetted against the night sky. The building is quiet when you step inside, the soft hum of distant voices muffled through the walls. You move through the dimly lit corridors with muscle memory, feet carrying you forward while your mind is still somewhere else.

Your door clicks shut behind you, shutting you into the quiet stillness of your room.

Everything here is familiar. The unmade bed, the clutter of books on your desk, the notebook you’d left open earlier with some half-scribbled thought that now feels embarrassingly simplistic. The air smells faintly of old paper and the lingering trace of coffee grounds from this morning—scents that should root you back into the present.

But they don’t.

Not when your mind is still back in that office.

Not when you can still hear the quiet cadence of his voice, the deliberate pause before he spoke—

You press your fingers to your temple, willing yourself to unspool the loop of recursion that has latched onto your thoughts.

It’s fine. This is fine.

The conversation had been an extension of an intellectual discourse, nothing more. You were both speaking in abstracts, exploring a hypothesis. That’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done.

Then why did you feel so different?

You swallow, exhaling through your nose.

Your notebook is still in your hands, the pages curled slightly from the way you’d gripped them on the walk back. Slowly, carefully, you set it down on your desk, flipping back to the last scrawled equation.

Identity = f(Iteration, Context, Interaction)

A slow inhale. Your fingers brush over the ink-streaked margin, a reflexive motion—an attempt to ground yourself.

Then, after a moment, you reach for your pen.

The ink flows smoothly as you add another line beneath the equation, hesitating for only a second before you let the words take form.

Resonance determines the rate of transformation.

You stare at it.

And then—slowly, deliberately—you close the notebook. 

-> a/n: hey, if you've made it this far i SERIOUSLY commend your strength. i had to take several breaks while proofreading this because i, the writer, myself could not process their words at one stretch... erm... so, here's a mini explanation with an analogy, if any of you are actually interested in what they were talking about. Imagine you're building a snowman. At first, it’s just a small snowball in your hands. But as you roll it, more snow sticks, and it grows bigger and bigger. You stack more snow on top, shape it, maybe add a scarf or a carrot nose. No matter how much it changes, the first snowball—the one you started with—is still there, buried inside. It never went away, it just became part of something bigger. That first snowball here is like the core of 'identity'. Everything else—your experiences, choices, and changes—builds on top of it, but it’s always there, shaping who you are.

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette@hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom@yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @somniosu

[itoshiabi]

How I think your first date would be with blue lock boys

Pt.2- Reo, Rin, Shidou, Hiori, Kaiser

Pt-1- Here

Reo Mikage

Reo is a hopeless romantic, so your first date would feel straight out of a fairy tale. He wouldn’t settle for something ordinary—no casual coffee dates or boring dinners. He wants to sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forget this night. He will pick you up in a luxury car, dressed in an effortlessly stylish outfit that will make him look like he walked out of a magazine. The destination? A private beachside dinner or a rooftop restaurant with a breathtaking city view—because to him, you deserve nothing but the best.

The entire night, he will be charming without even trying. He will listen attentively when you talk, remember even the smallest details, and will smile whenever you get excited about something. He’s confident but not arrogant, flirting in a way that feels natural and sweet rather than overwhelming. “You know, I could get used to this—staring at you under the city lights.” At some point, he’d take your hand casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. By the time the night ends, he will be reluctant to let you go. He will drive and and then will walk you to your door, taking his time, standing just a little too close. His violet eyes will flicker between your lips and your eyes, as if debating something. Finally, he will exhale a small laugh. “I wanna kiss you, but I also wanna take my time with you… So I’ll wait." He will lean in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead instead, before stepping back with a smirk.“Sweet dreams, princess. Next time, I’m making it even harder for you to resist me.”

Itoshi Rin

Rin isn’t the type to go for flashy or extravagant dates. He doesn’t care about impressing you with wealth or grand gestures—if he likes you, he just wants to spend time with you, no distractions. That’s why your first date would be something simple but deeply personal. He’d take you somewhere quiet, like a secluded café, a late-night walk by the river, or even a private training session where he lets you watch him play. Rin doesn’t say much, but his actions speak louder than words. He’d hold the door open for you without thinking, subtly adjust his pace to match yours, and steal quick glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

Despite his usual cold demeanor, there would be small, unexpectedly soft moments. If you reach for your drink and almost knock it over, his reflexes will kick in, and he will catche it without hesitation. Instead of letting go immediately, he will keep his hand over yours for just a second too long. If you point it out, he’ll clear his throat and pull back, mumbling, “…Don’t overthink it.” And when the date comes to an end, he won’t say much, but he’ll walk you home without being asked. As you reach your door, there’s a moment of silence. Rin will look at you, his usual sharp gaze a little softer under the streetlights. Finally, will he exhale and mutter, “Tonight wasn’t bad. We should do it again.” And just as you start to say goodbye, he will add, almost as an afterthought, "Text me when you get inside.” It’s a small request, but in Rin’s language, it means he cares.

Shidou Ryusei

Dating Shidou Ryusei is like stepping into a storm of adrenaline and unpredictability. He’s not the type to sit through a quiet dinner or go on a cliché romantic walk. No, he wants excitement. He wants a date that makes your heart race—literally. So, for your first date? He’ll taking you somewhere wild. Maybe an arcade where he challenges you to every game possible, a go-kart race where he drives like a maniac, or even a night out at a rooftop bar where he can tease you relentlessly. No matter where you go, one thing is guaranteed: he will flirt shamelessly.

From the moment he will pick you up, he’s already all over you—an arm slung over your shoulders, leaning in close just to watch you squirm. “Damn, you look good enough to eat. Mind if I take a bite?” Despite all the teasing and chaos, there are moments where you will catch him watching you intensely, like he’s memorizing your every move. When you ask what he’s thinking, he will just grin and say, “Nothing. Just wondering how I got lucky enough to find someone this fun.” By the end of the night, he will walk you home—but he’s not the type to just leave without making things interesting. He will trap you against the door, locking his eyes with yours, “One last bet before I go. If you don’t push me away in the next five seconds, I’m taking my prize.” If you won’t move, he’ll smirk victoriously before leaning in and pressing a wild, teasing kiss on your lips. When he will finally pull back, he will chuckle, “Tch, knew you wouldn’t resist me. Sweet dreams, babe.” And with that, he’s gone—leaving you with a pounding heart and the lingering taste of his kiss.

Hiori Yo

Hiori isn’t the type to rush into things. He’s careful, thoughtful, and genuinely wants to make you happy—so your first date would be something cozy and meaningful. He’s not interested in flashy or extravagant plans, instead, he wants to spend time with you in a way that feels comfortable and real. So he will invite you to a quiet bookstore café, a stroll through a peaceful park, or even a cozy night in playing video games together. If you mention something you like—a favorite book, a song, a snack—you’ll later find out he remembers every little detail. Maybe he will subtly order your favorite drink before you even ask, or maybe he will casually hum the song you said you loved. When you point it out, he’ll blush lightly and say, “I just thought it’d make you happy.”

Hiori isn’t naturally bold, but if you ever feel nervous or shy, he’ll instinctively reassure you. If you hesitate to take his hand, he’ll softly smile and say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to rush, but… I’d really like to hold your hand.” And when you do? His grip will be gentle but firm, like he never wants to let go. At the end of the night, he’ll walk you home, his steps slow—like he doesn’t want this date to end. When you will reach your door, he will hesitate for a moment before finally saying, “…Tonight was really nice. I hope we can do this again.” Then, with the softest, sweetest smile he will add, “Text me when you’re inside, okay? I just… want to know you’re safe.” And with that, he will leave—but not before looking over his shoulder one last time, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s already counting down the days until your next date.

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser doesn’t do anything half-heartedly—and that includes dating. If he’s taking you out, it’s going to be extravagant, unforgettable, and perfectly orchestrated. He thrives on attention, so your first date would feel like something straight out of a movie. He will you up in a sleek sports car, looking effortlessly gorgeous, his signature smirk in place as he will casually compliment you, “I knew you’d look good, but damn… I might have to keep you all to myself.” The destination? A rooftop dinner at an exclusive restaurant or maybe even a private helicopter ride over the city. He wants to spoil you, to see your eyes widen at the luxury he can offer.

But despite his love for grand gestures, he’s watching you closely. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you prefer something simpler? If he sees that you’re more comfortable in a quieter setting, he’ll take a detour—maybe a late-night walk by the water or a drive with no destination while flirting with you endlessly. Kaiser’s flirting is relentless—smooth, confident, and always pushing your limits. He will lean in close, letting his lips brush against your ear as he will murmur, “You keep looking at me like that… Should I take it as a sign?” But underneath the teasing, there are moments where his charm softens—where he looks at you not as a showman, but as a man who’s truly intrigued.

By the end of the night, he will walk you to your door, leaning lazily against the frame as if he owns the place. He will tilt your chin up with a smirk, eyes searching yours. “I could kiss you right now, you know. But I think I’ll make you wait a little longer… anticipation makes it sweeter.” And just before he turns to leave, he pauses, his voice dropping to something more genuine. “Text me when you’re inside. Can’t have someone else stealing you away before I do.” Then, with a wink and a confident stride, he disappears into the night—leaving you breathless and completely hooked.

[yuujispunches]

The fear I hide ~ Y.I.

Pairing: Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: A mission gone wrong might just be the last push that both Yuji and you need to finally stop being idiots.

CW (content warning): some cursing, mentions of injuries and blood, not much else this is mainly just fluffy.

AN (author’s note): Hi guys! I’m so happy that you enjoyed the Megumi series I made as much as I enjoyed making it 🤍 I’m really thankful for all the support. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this in my phone so I’m sorry if there’re any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You’d been on plenty of missions before. Enough to know the difference between routine and out of the ordinary. And this one? This one felt wrong the moment you stepped out of the car and into the quiet woods of the Mikagawa Prefecture.

The sun was setting fast, painting the sky in streaks of orange and crimson as you and Yuji Itadori stood at the trailhead, packs slung over your shoulders, cursed energy pulsing faintly under your skin like a sixth sense itching to be used. You adjusted your gloves and glanced at him.

He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Always moving. Always humming with some untapped energy like the world couldn’t quite contain him.

“What?” He asked, catching you staring.

You shook your head. “You ever not smile?” You joked in an attempt to drown the growing unease bubbling inside of you.

Yuji’s grin grew, as if that proved your point. “Not when I’m about to spend hours alone with you in the woods.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to contain the smile that tugged on your lips. “It’s a scouting mission. Not a camping trip.”

“Right, but there’s a cursed spirit.” He said cheerily. “And you're my partner. So it's kind of like… intense bonding time.”

“You’re way too excited for something that might kill us.”

He shrugged, beginning the hike. “Gotta find joy where you can.”

You followed him, trying to ignore the way his words nestled under your ribs and stayed there.

——————————————————————————

The forest seemed older than anything you’d seen before in Tokyo. Trees with twisted trunks and gnarled roots towered over the path, their leaves rustling in a wind you couldn’t feel. Every so often, you'd spot the remnants of what used to be a shrine made of half-toppled stone steps, offerings long rotted away and moss devouring the words etched in stone.

The air grew heavy as you walked. Pressure settled on your shoulders like a weight, subtle at first. Then steadily oppressive. You exchanged a glance with Yuji, and he nodded. He felt it too.

“The cursed energy here is thick.” You muttered.

“Yeah. It’s old. Angry.”

You took a slow breath. “Think we’re dealing with more than one?”

Yuji’s gaze swept the trees. “Maybe. Either that or one really pissed-off spirit.”

You continued walking in silence for a while, senses sharp. Shadows deepened with the setting sun, and you felt the first real prick of unease creep up your spine. The air seemed too still. Not just quiet, dead.

Then, finally, your radios, curtesy of Mechamaru from the Kyoto school, crackled.

“This is HQ. Report your status, Team 3.”

You lifted your radio. “Approaching origin point. Cursed energy concentration rising. No visual yet.”

“Understood. Proceed with caution. No backup available at this time.”

You lowered the device slowly. “Great. No pressure.”

Yuji snorted. “Don’t worry. I got your back.”

You wanted to snap back with something witty. Something light. But your heart stuttered for a beat when you looked at him.

Because you knew he meant it. He always meant it.

——————————————————————————

You made camp just before full dark in a small clearing ringed by dense trees. Yuji helped set up the perimeter charms while you prepped a fire, your nerves on edge. The oppressive pressure in the air never faded, neither did the uneasy feeling in your gut. If anything, it grew stronger as the sun dipped below the horizon.

“You should eat.” He said softly, tossing you a ration bar.

You caught it without thinking. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need energy.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m not a civilian, Yuji. I know how to pace myself.”

He didn’t argue, just sat beside you with his legs stretched out and eyes fixed on the canopy above.

“Do you ever get scared?” You asked suddenly.

Yuji tilted his head. “Yeah. Of course.”

“You don’t show it.” You mumbled softly.

“I don’t want to scare the people around me. Especially not you.”

You blinked. “Why especially me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just smiled softly, that rare kind of smile he wore when no one else was looking.

“Because if something ever happened to you, I don’t think I could handle it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The fire crackled quietly between you, and you found yourself staring into it like it held answers.

“You’re not allowed to die, Yuji.”

He turned to you, serious now, smile ever present on his face. “Same goes for you.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t sleep well. Neither of you did.

Something was moving beyond the perimeter of the clearing, just past the edge of the charms. You could feel it. Hear the crunch of leaves, the almost-human breathing. But every time you checked, there was nothing there.

At 3:12 a.m. the perimeter shattered.

The explosion of cursed energy woke you like a gunshot. You were on your feet in seconds, weapon drawn, your cursed energy flaring to life. Yuji was already there, fists crackling, eyes scanning.

Three spirits surged from the woods, all malformed and rotting, pieces of old offerings fused to their bodies. One had a shrine’s bell for a head. Another dragged a leg of bone and stone behind it like a ritual gone wrong.

Yuji charged without hesitation, clashing with the largest. You kept the other two at bay, adrenaline pulsing like a war drum in your ears.

You worked in sync. Time of shared training, of trust paying-off. Yuji’s punches landed hard, rattling the bones of the bell-headed spirit. You sliced through one of the others, but it reformed mid-strike. An illusion? No, a regenerative type. You thought.

“I’ve got this one!” Yuji called. “Take the crawlers!”

You nodded, redirecting your focus. But the regeneration was fast, unpredictable. Every time you cut it down, it surged back, screeching. Then something changed. Its cursed energy spiked, and you felt the trap too late.

A clone appeared behind you. You turned, too slow. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact but the strike never landed.

Instead Yuji’s body slammed into yours, knocking you to the ground as claws meant for your throat tore into his shoulder instead. He grunted, blood blooming across his uniform as he dropped to one knee.

You screamed his name, heart lurching into your throat.

“Stay back!” He gasped, rising again despite the gaping wound. “Just- just stay back!”

You didn’t listen, you couldn’t even think straight. You fought harder than you ever had. Faster. Angrier. You weren’t thinking. You were surviving. Protecting. The spirits fell. One after another.

——————————————————————————

By the time it ended, you were panting, blood-spattered, and kneeling beside Yuji as he slumped against a tree, his skin ghost-pale.

His breaths were ragged. The gash across his shoulder was deep, flesh torn clean to the bone. Blood coated his side, and his uniform was slick with it.

“No.” You whispered, pressing your hands to the wound. “No, no, no.”

“I’m okay.” He rasped.

“You’re not okay.” You snapped, tears welling. “Why the hell would you do that?”

He looked up at you, pain evident. “Because I couldn’t let it hit you.”

“You idiot.” Your voice cracked. “You don’t get to be a hero if it means dying.”

He chuckled weakly. “I didn’t plan on dying. Just... a dramatic save.”

You tore into your kit, pulling out gauze, binding, cursed salve, your hands shook. Your entire body shook.

Yuji didn’t complain. Just watched you with a kind of awe, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

When you finally slowed the bleeding, you realized your hands were stained red. You stared at them, breathing hard.

He caught your wrist gently. “Hey.”

Your eyes met his. Too wide. Too wet.

“I’m okay.” He said again. “You saved me.”

“I shouldn’t have had to,” you whispered. “You always do this. You act like your life’s worth less than everyone else’s. Like you’re-”

“I’m not trying to die.” He said softly. “I’m trying to make sure you live.”

You didn’t answer.

Because deep down, you weren’t sure which part hurt more the fear, or the realization of just how much he meant to you.

——————————————————————————

The night stretched on in silence, save for the quiet rustle of wind-blown leaves and Yuji’s slow, steady breaths beside you.

You had wrapped his shoulder tight, layered cursed salve over the torn muscle, and done everything you could short of summoning Shoko herself. But he needed rest. Healing. Something you couldn’t give enough of with only field supplies and trembling hands.

So you sat beside him, your back against the same tree, your head tipped back toward the clouded sky. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Every time you opened your mouth, the image of him crumpling to the ground, his blood staining your uniform, rushed back with fresh cruelty.

Yuji didn’t ask you to speak, either. He just leaned his head gently against your shoulder and let the silence cradle you both.

The moon crept higher, red as the blood that coated you both.

——————————————————————————

Morning crept slowly into the forest, bleeding pale gold through the branches. It felt like the kind of light that didn’t quite reach you, not under your skin, not into your bones.

Yuji stirred beside you. You jerked awake immediately, your senses sharp even through the exhaustion.

“You should’ve slept more.” He murmured.

You shot him a look. “You were stabbed.”

He grinned faintly. “Scratched.”

“You lost enough blood to fill a bathtub.”

“Okay, fair. But you still should’ve rested.”

You looked away. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Yuji didn’t press further. But you knew he noticed the way your hands still trembled when you touched your canteen. How your eyes lingered on him like you were afraid he might vanish if you looked away for too long.

Because in that moment, right when he’d fallen, you’d seen your entire world start to collapse.

——————————————————————————

It took you two hours to stabilize him enough for slow movement. He was stubborn, as always, and insisted on walking on his own despite the way his knees buckled every few steps.

You ended up slinging his good arm over your shoulders, letting him lean into you.

“Y’know.” He said as you helped him down a steep path. “I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

You swallowed. “You didn’t.”

He gave you a skeptical look. “You were shaking.”

“I was angry.”

“You were crying.”

“Don’t push it, Itadori.”

He chuckled, wincing immediately at the motion. “Oof. Okay, okay. I surrender.”

You helped him sit on a flat rock while you scouted the area ahead. The trees had thinned out, leading to a riverbed, a natural way out. You turned back toward him and froze.

Yuji was staring at the forest, his expression unreadable.

You knelt beside him. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Nothing.” His voice was low. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A brief pause once again. “About what I’d say if I didn’t make it.”

Your stomach turned. “Don’t.”

“I mean it.” He said, eyes still on the trees. “I came real close last night. If you hadn’t been there-”

“But I was.” You snapped more sharply than intended. “And I always will be. So stop talking like this is some near-death farewell tour.”

He looked at you finally. And what you saw in his eyes wasn’t fear. It was guilt.

“I wasn’t afraid of dying.” He said quietly. “I was afraid of you watching it happen.”

That cracked something deep in your chest. You looked away quickly, eyes burning.

“You always put yourself last.” You whispered. “You’d throw yourself inside of a goddamn volcano if it meant saving someone else.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

You didn’t answer. Because yes, you would.

But not like him. Not so recklessly. Not without thinking of the people you’d leave behind.

He sighed, reaching out with his good hand, fingers brushing yours. “I need you to know something.”

You glanced at him warily. “Now?”

“Especially now.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. The motion was soft. Careful. Like he was memorizing you, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I care about you.” He whispered. “Not just as a teammate. Not just as a friend. You’re... the reason I keep fighting.”

You felt your throat tighten.

“Yuji…” You breathed out, like a prayer, like his name was the only thing holding you up right that moment.

He didn’t pull back.

“You matter to me more than anything else.” He said, voice low and trembling. “And I think I’ve been pretending it was all about saving people. But really? I just don’t want to live in a world where I don’t get to see you smile again.”

You couldn’t stop the tears this time. Not from that. Not from him.

“You really scared me.” You hiccuped, voice cracking. “When you went down, I- I thought-”

“I know.” He pressed your hands between his. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. Just… don’t do that again. Don’t throw yourself away like that.”

“I won’t.” He promised. “Not if you stay with me.”

You smiled through the tears. “You’re stuck with me.”

And when you leaned in, he didn’t hesitate.

The kiss was soft. Fragile. Like the forest might shatter if you moved too quickly. His lips were warm against yours, his hand trembling where it cradled your jaw.

When you pulled away, you didn’t let go of him. Not for a second. Not anymore.

——————————————————————————

The extraction was quiet. You called HQ with a weakened signal as soon as you reached the highway. Yuji leaned against the guardrail, drained but standing. His bandages were soaked, but his smile, small and content and it was real.

A car pulled up within the hour. Yuki Tsukumo was the one who stepped out, tilting her sunglasses down as she looked between the two of you.

“You both look like shit.” She said cheerfully.

“Nice to see you too, Yuki.” Yuji muttered as you helped him into the car.

She flicked his forehead. “Stupid kid. You took on three level one cursed spirits and almost bled out?”

“He saved my life.” You said quietly.

Yuki raised a brow. “He tends to do that.”

She moved past Yuji and studied you for a second longer.

“You okay?” She asked, not with teasing this time, but a surprising gentleness.

You hesitated.

“I thought I was gonna lose him.” You said, and your voice cracked again, raw and tired. “And I realized... I’m not ready to live in a world without him.”

Yuki’s expression softened. She ruffled your hair and gestured you towards the car with a knowing smile on her face.

“Get in.” She said. “You can cry in the backseat.”

You didn’t, you didn’t need to when Yuji sat beside you warm, real, alive, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, fingers intertwined and unmoving the whole ride home.

——————————————————————————

A few weeks went by.

Yuji was healing fast, per usual. His shoulder was bandaged, but he was already doing light training again. You caught him sneaking out of the dorm to jog, and after chasing him down and yelling for five minutes, you finally collapsed on the grass beside him.

He panted. “That’s… a scary voice you have when you’re mad.”

“You think that’s scary?” You mumbled angrily as you poked your index finger against his chest. “You have not seen scary yet.”

He just laughed and kissed your temple.

“I like this.” He said.

You blinked. “What?”

“This. You. Us.” He smiled. “Even if it took a cursed forest and a near-death experience to get here.”

You smiled back, heart full.

“Yeah.” You said. “Me too.”

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda @noooo-onee

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added in future works! :)

[greenxgloss]

Part 1

Summary: Jiyong, usually shy and gentlemanly, shocked you when he fiercely cussed out a man who catcalled you, making you see him in a completely different light. Later, as he bought you a dress and stayed the night, your best friend pointed out what you were reluctant to admit—you might be seeing Jiyong as more than just a friend. Themes: Best Friends to lovers, some suggestive language, Mention of nudity Word Count: 3k

Jiyong had slowly become much more shy in the passed few years. Well, he had always been bashful and timid with girls he really liked while still being a gentleman. He was flirtatious and sweet. that’s why it surprised you when he cussed out the creep who cat-called you the first time the both of you went on a little friend date downtown.

You were staring up in awe at the beautiful lights and decorations peppered all over a new dress store when you heard it. fuck I’d like some of that. it seemed the man didn’t see Jiyong standing a foot away from you —or didn’t care. You definitely didn’t care as it was a common occurrence. Jiyong in his flared jeans, pink grandma cardigan and cute matching pink bucket hat that was fluffy all over huffed, face contorting in anger and disgust as he shouted at the man.

“you think you can just approach people like that? you fucking perv.” he took a step forward, puffing his chest. your awe was now directed at Jiyong, never having stepped in for you that way. not that he ever needed to, no one dared to treat you less than perfect when he was around.

“Get the fuck away from us before I shove my foot so far up your ass, not only will your life flash before your eyes, but so will your ancestors,” Jiyong seethed, his voice sharp and venomous.

You barely had time to process the sheer rage in his tone before you turned to glance at the man who had catcalled you. His confidence had evaporated in an instant. His cocky smirk was gone, replaced by wide, panicked eyes as he took a cautious step back. His hands lifted in front of him, palms out, a weak attempt at de-escalation—though the damage had already been done.

Jiyong took another step forward, chest still puffed, fists still clenched. The catcaller flinched. Then, as if realizing he was no match for the fire burning behind Jiyong’s glare, the man bolted, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to disappear down the street.

You stood frozen, blinking up at Jiyong in stunned silence.

“Whoa,” was all you managed, suddenly feeling a heat grow between your thighs, which was new. Does that usually happen between best friends? You had to ask yourself the question and hope this sudden feeling was not out of the ordinary.

“Do you want one?” Jiyong asked, his voice now calm, as if the fiery outburst from moments ago had never happened. The shift in his demeanor was almost jarring, leaving you struggling to catch up.

“Huh?” you blinked, your mind still reeling from the scene that had just unfolded. You cleared your throat, trying to shake the lingering tension, but your body wasn’t cooperating. Your heart was still racing, pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

Following the direction of his outstretched finger, you turned to look behind you, your gaze landing on the large glass storefront. Mannequins stood elegantly posed, draped in stunning dresses, each one shimmering under the soft glow of the boutique’s lighting.

He was pointing at one in particular—a deep green silk gown that hung delicately on display, the fabric cascading down like liquid. It was stunning. It was expensive. It was also exactly your style.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening for an entirely different reason now.

“Oh! You know I can’t afford these.” You sighed, shifting between your feet as you looked between him and the dark green silk dress on display, mouth watering at the lack of straps and how it glistened in the light. You winced before turning to walk away but Jiyong stopped you, hand on your wrist to spin you around. “It’s on me. After that bullshit you deserve it.” He smiled pulling towards the entrance.

Suddenly you were seeing your best friend in a different light. The strong grip on your wrist fought hard to pull a whine from your throat but you fought harder. You confused yourself but just let it go as you got an up close look at all the stunning gowns in the store, the clerk smiling wide before greeting the both of you.

“That green one you were looking at would look great on you.” Jiyong smiled before walking up to the clerk and asking for one in your size, which he had memorized by heart. It came as no surprise when you remembered your best friend is the fashionista of your tree of friends on top of being the mom friend.

You smiled bashfully as the clerk looked past Jiyong and right at you. “You have your girlfriend’s measurements memorized that’s very sweet. And the first of many many boyfriends who come in to purchase for their counterparts,” The order woman complimented and jiyong smiled happily, causing your heart to almost flutter at his lack of interjecting when she referred to you as his girlfriend.

Once you were home and finished shopping Jiyong encouraged you to try the dress on again. “It looked so pretty and I didn’t get any pictures of you in it come on,” he whined, pulling on your arm. You rolled your eyes playfully. “Fiiiiine.” Letting a giggle spill as you rushed into your room to try on the dress.

Jiyong sat behind you on the edge of your bed while you changed which wasn't an uncommon occurrence, you'd become quite comfortable with him the last few years and now it was second nature.

This time you spotted him watching closely, the tattoos across your hips and shoulder blades being visible to him. He allowed his gaze to linger.

You slipped into the dress, feeling the soft fabric glide over your skin. As you stood up, you spun in a graceful twirl, letting the material swirl around your legs. The moment you stopped, you caught Jiyong's gaze, and a proud smile spread across his face. "Gorgeous," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. He chuckled lightly, clapping his hands together in appreciation. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and snapped a series of pictures, each one capturing your joy and the way the dress seemed to come alive with your movement.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his excited energy. It was rare to see him so caught up in a moment, and it warmed your heart. Without thinking, you flopped down onto the bed beside him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The scent of his cologne mixed with the soft fabric of the sheets, creating a sense of comfort that you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

He looked at you, his eyes softening, and you both shared a quiet laugh, the world outside seeming to pause for just a moment.

Laid in silence for a moment after the laughter died down, you turned on your side to look at each other. “Thanks, Jiyong.” You gave him a soft smile. “anything for you.” he pulled you into a cuddle. Your arm was thrown over his waist and his looped around you, pulling your head to his chest. The two of you stayed that way for a few minutes before you looked up at him.

In the moment it was like everything around you disappeared and it was just the two on you on your bed in an otherwise empty cube; No furniture, no windows, no muffled outside noise. Something felt different.

Warmth bubbled up in your belly and you could feel it reaching your cheeks so you quickly dug your head back into his chest to hide the flush creeping up on you so rudely.

what the fuck is going on with you today?

It was late, and after spending the entire day walking around downtown, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones. Without much thought, you found yourself curling up against Jiyong’s warmth, your body naturally gravitating toward his as sleep took over almost instantly. This wasn’t unusual for the two of you—falling asleep tangled together had become second nature after years of friendship. Whether it was crashing on each other’s couches after long nights out or dozing off during late-night movie marathons, moments like these were just another part of your unspoken routine.

When you woke up the next morning, you were still curled up against Jiyong, your body comfortably molded to his as if you had never moved throughout the night. The warmth of his presence was familiar, but as your mind slowly emerged from sleep, you noticed something was different. You were no longer in the clothes you had worn the day before—instead, you were dressed in soft pajamas, and when you reached up to rub your eyes, you realized your makeup had been completely wiped off. Your skin felt fresh, free of the remnants of eyeliner and mascara you had definitely been wearing when you dozed off.

A frown tugged at your lips as you blinked in confusion. How had you managed to sleep through all that? You weren’t exactly a heavy sleeper, yet somehow, Jiyong had changed you, cleaned your face, and tucked you back into bed without waking you. The thought made heat rise to your cheeks—he had taken care of you so gently, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“hey.” Jiyong croaked as he pulled away, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Did you take my makeup off and change my clothes?” You giggled as you hooked your hand under your pillow and clutched the duvet tight to your chest. He nodded and hummed a yes once he finished his big stretch.

"Thanks," you said with a soft smile, and as always, he returned it without hesitation. His gaze flickered to his phone, checking the time before letting out a small sigh.

"Ah, I gotta get to the studio," he mumbled reluctantly, pushing himself up from the bed. As he stood, you finally took in the sight before you—your sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his upper body completely bare. Heat crept up your neck, and you quickly averted your gaze, but not before the blush had already betrayed you.

"What? So early?" you pouted, tilting your head up at him. "Can’t we at least have breakfast first?" You sat up, watching as he hurriedly pulled on the clothes he had worn the day before, already preparing to rush out the door.

He shook his head. “Can’t. Already overslept. but I can come by later tonight if you’re not doing anything.” Jiyong raked his hands through his hair in a rushed attempt to tame it. You sighed in response. “Okay. I’ll see you later then. I feel like we barely spend time together anymore.” you pouted.

Jiyong had been pouring everything into his album—long nights at the studio, back-to-back promo meetings, and constant traveling had consumed most of his time. It felt like you barely saw him anymore, your usual daily texts turning into sporadic updates about his schedule. That’s why the two of you had made solid plans to go shopping the day before—to finally spend some much-needed time together like you used to.

But now, as you sat there alone in bed, you regretted falling asleep so early. You had missed out on the little moments that made your sleepovers special—the quiet conversations in the dark, the whispered jokes, the deep, unfiltered talks that somehow always felt easier when you were curled up beside each other. It wasn’t just about spending time together; it was about the comfort of those late-night moments, the ones that made you feel like no matter how busy life got, you’d always have Jiyong.

“That will change, I promise. I’m trying to make as much time for you as possible.” he ruffled your hair. “I promise, promise, promise I’ll be here tonight, with food.” he winked playfully and rushed out the door, both of you yelling your goodbyes.

-

By the time noon rolled around, you had already gone through the familiar motions of your morning routine—brushing your teeth, washing your face, making a half-hearted attempt at breakfast, and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Yet, despite the slow start to your day, you found yourself sitting on the couch with nothing to do, staring at the ceiling as boredom settled over you.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone and quickly typed out a message to Marlee, your closest friend outside of Jiyong.

(12:04) You: you free? (12:04) You: Come over I’m dying of boredom

You barely had to wait a minute before the typing bubbles appeared, followed by her enthusiastic response.

(12:05) Lee<3: On my way hope you have snacks

A small smile tugged at your lips. At least now, the day wouldn’t feel so uneventful.

“Heyyy!” Marlee beamed, stepping through the doorway with her usual effortless confidence. One hand rested on her hip while the other clutched the strap of her purse, her oversized sunglasses pushed up into her thick curls. She looked every bit like she had just strutted off a fashion runway, despite probably having just rolled out of bed an hour ago.

You giggled at her dramatic entrance, shaking your head. “Record time! I swear you teleport.”

“Please, I heard urgent fashion news and I moved fast,” she teased, slipping off her shoes before following you inside.

Grinning, you grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward your bedroom. “You have to see the dress Jiyong bought me yesterday,” you gushed, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Marlee let out a dramatic gasp. “He bought you a dress? Okay, now I really need details.”

You reached into your closet, carefully pulling out the gorgeous silk dress before laying it out on the bed. The deep green fabric shimmered under the soft lighting of your room, practically glowing. Marlee immediately sprawled herself across the opposite side of the bed, propping herself up on her elbows as she stared at the dress like it was a piece of art.

Her reaction was instant. She sucked in a breath, eyes going wide before she let out a feigned moan. “Oh my god…” she gasped, clutching her chest.

You watched her face intently, unable to fight the satisfied grin forming as she dramatically fanned herself.

Her jaw dropped letting out a feigned moan. “oh my god…” she gasped as she sat up. “It’s gorgeous and it’s your style… baby why haven’t you hopped on it yet?” she looked up at you with her brows furrowed. “Marlee.” you scolded, face immediately displaying unamusment. “Y/n.” She returned in the same tone of course drawing an eye roll from you.

“I totally would if i had a sexy bestfriend who bought me expensive gifts like this just because.” She spoke nonchalantly, crossing her legs like a little girl and tucking her hands under her knee. “If i had the money I’d be spoiling you too. it’s not like that with Jiyong I don’t see him that way…” you paused and immediately remembered how you felt when he cursed out the catcaller.

“I knew there was a ‘but’ coming,” Marlee grinned, eyes glinting with curiosity.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Well… some guy catcalled me while Ji and I were out shopping yesterday, and—”

Marlee’s brows lifted expectantly. “And?”

“You know Ji,” you continued, gesturing vaguely. “He’s the sweetest guy. Super shy, total gentleman—he’s the type to pull out chairs for every woman, no matter who she is.”

Marlee nodded, fully invested now. “Right, right. That sounds like him. But—” she motioned for you to hurry up, her hands flapping impatiently.

You grabbed the dress from the bed, carefully placing it back in your closet before settling on the floor across from her, mirroring her posture.

“But he lost it on the guy,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean—lost it. Nose flaring, face red, that little vein in his neck popping. He straight-up cussed him out like he was ready to throw hands.”

Marlee’s eyes widened. “Ji?”

“Ji.” You nodded, still stunned.

Marlee smiled like she knew exactly what you were about to say and unconsciously leaned toward you. “It was so hot.” you covered your face. “We've been friends for so long and I’ve literally never seen him get worked up that way before. I’ve seen him get frustrated and let out little huffs like when he spills something or when he messes up a dance or lyric.” You spun around and rested your back on the foot of your bed. “seeing him get that angry, that fast and the fact that it was over me?!” you exclaimed as Marlee nodded, understanding you entirely. she giggled and drummed on the bed.

“Yeah I totally get what you mean… so what does this mean for you?” she asked. Until that moment you hadn’t even asked yourself that. You hadn’t considered what thinking of your best friend that way meant, you hadn’t considered- hardly accepted that you were even attracted to the behaviour Jiyong displayed yesterday until you uttered the words to Marlee.

"I haven't thought about it actually." you threw your head back pensively before looking at her with wide eyes. "probably because it doesn't mean anything." You shrugged.

"Marlee, you can think someone's attractive without being into them." you blinked at her. "sure but you wouldn't sexualize them if you weren't into them." she gave a tight-lipped smile before letting out a whistle, earning a sigh from you.

Not wanting to discuss the matter any further you changed the subject knowing it would only frustrate you into an argument. "well anyway, how's it going with deli guy?" you asked her as you stood up, grabbed your pillow and laid on your chest. she rolled her eyes playfully and grinned. "Good, he gave me my favourite sandwich for free yesterday and told me when his break is so I think he wants me to come by tomorrow." she gleamed and you could swear her iris' morphed into hearts.

You loved hearing about Marlee's love life even if there wasn't anything going on in yours. that's what she loved about you; never being jealous or antipathous. You just wanted to hear about how happy she was with her newest cute boy-toy. "that's so sweet. you should bring him something in return." You gushed, cupping your cheeks gleefully. She giggled in response. "I hope something actually happens with this one; he really does seem to be into me." She sighed sweetly, sinking into the bed.

Break Me Off Masterlist | Next Part

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[2neaky]

.ೃ࿔*:･༉‧𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝑨𝒊𝒏’𝒕 𝑵𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌༄

3.7k! • 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑫𝑵𝑰 | -> warnings: or*l (male receiving), aggressive/rough behavior (both parties are consenting), gagging/choking, bre*thplay, dirty talk, substance use (smoking we*d) & detailed mentions of using it, obscene language, “put in your place” trope, ambiguous relationship between characters, use of n-word (all characters & author are Black), NYC slang used sparingly, original characters

This is my first queer fic (MxM) on this page (not new to this, though). Sumn slight, sumn light. Hope you guys enjoy. Pls reblog if you do.

There’s nothing special about this tonight. Nothing out of the ordinary or extravagant.

The complete opposite.

Even the parking lot of the Chick-fil-a is still. There are probably only four other cars here, quite spaced out.

What’s so special about two guys hanging out? Sitting in the car; Talking, smoking, listening to music—and they might even come up with a few freestyles while high. 

A calm vibe for the night. Nothing special.

Oily paper bags full of empty sauce packets and finished fries sit by their feet, ready to be discarded. 

One of their rap playlists is on, and he can’t even remember whose it is. Their taste in music is the same at this point. So as MHPG Sound’s MHA bumps through the speakers, he hears soft mumbles as the other man raps along.

“Yo, Shey.” Jai’s voice cracks as it’s the first time he’s said anything in about half an hour. Quickly, he clears his throat.

“Mmh,” his friend hums, attention elsewhere at the moment.

“You could put the seat warmers on? I’m fake feeling the cold from outside.” In his seat, he softly shakes his legs in an attempt to generate some heat for himself.

Peering up from whatever had arrested his focus, Shekar nods over at the small backlit buttons decorating the dashboard. “It’s right in front’a you.” Just as quickly, he’s looking right back down.

Crumbs of salt and waffle-fries fall from Jai’s hands as he dusts them off. “Yeah, but my fingers mad greasy.” Licking his lips, he tastes the remaining salt crumbs.

Should’a got more napkins.

“I’m rolling. Just wipe ‘em off.”

Finally, Jai looks his way for the first time in minutes. In the darkness of the car, with Shekar’s faced-up phone screen being the only efficient light source, he catches him in the process of rolling a blunt. There’s even a lighter balancing on his knee.

If he hadn’t known him for so long, Jai would’ve been more impressed that he just rolled up in near-darkness. But it comes as no surprise, this nigga will roll up anywhere.

“Nigga if I could, I wouldn’t be asking you. We ain’t even get napkins.”

Sucking his teeth, Shekar breaks his focus from the blunt. Thankfully, he’d finished. He carefully sets it on his phone screen before stretching over the middle console and Jai’s knees to pull open the glove box.

He crashes back into his seat, letting Jai see for himself, the hidden stash of napkins he keeps on deck.

“Chipotle?” Jai scowls at him just before leaning forward and snatching up two. “Thought you had better standards than that.”

“Aah, look at that.” Ignoring every thing he just said, Shekar clicks on the overhead light to show off his work. “Pearled that shit, nigga. Fuck is you talkin’ ‘bout.”

Jai only rolls his eyes in response. He reaches for the seat warmer button for his side and sets the temperature up to the max.

Clicking the light back off, Shekar is quick to spark up. He takes the first hit before even giving it a second thought.

“And it’s a—“ He coughs. “S’a good thing you don’t get paid to—to think.” A smile creeps up on his face, even as he clears his throat. “Talking ‘bout better standards. Tuh, I seen the bitches you fucked with—“

“Yeah, shut the fuck up.” Jai snatches the blunt, immediately taking a hit.

A pointed stare is what Shekar gives him. “Thought you brought your own.” 

He drops his lighter on the small shelf of the speed-o-meter. The clank of the plastic is the loudest sound in the car.

Taking his time to respond, Jai exhales through his nose, puffing out a thin cloud of smoke. “And?”

From his face, Shey’s stare moves to the blunt itself.

“We’a just smoke it after this.” An air of indifference surrounds Jai’s words.

“You put Grabba?”

He takes one more puff while pushing his seat back. “Mhm.”

Immediately, Shekar sucks his teeth. “Hand my shit back, I’an tryna smoke that—“

He reaches out for the spliff, only for Jai to block his hand.

“Aye, nigga—chill!“ He pulls it from between his lips, holding it close to his chest and careful not to drop it. “Almost made me drop the shit,” he scowls. “Structure up. You a grown ass nigga and can’t smoke Grabba?”

“I’on like it—“

“Aah, you’a be cool,” Jai says as he smacks his chest with a light back hand. Settling back in his seat, he brings the blunt back to his lips.

Resigned, Shekar only leans against the window and pulls out his phone.

“Hm,” Jai hums, handing it over.

Wordlessly he takes it, taking a slow hit as he scrolls through some app. “Damn near … smoked my shit out.” He turns it over, eyeing how it had shrunk.

“You whining, Shey’.”

With a burst of energy, Shekar whips his head to look at it. “Nigga ‘cause you use too much Grabba. You be on that feind shit, it ain’t even that good.” His glare lingers on him for a second more before it retreats to his phone screen.

As he grows quiet, Jai watches him slip the blunt back in-between his pink lips. This time, when he exhales, his tongue peaks out just a little bit to wet the bottom lip. 

It’s got a soft sheen to it. Even in the darkness, the pink skin looks plump and soft. 

For as long as they’ve been smoking—since they were seventeen (and Shekar’s been doing it for longer than that)—it’s always surprised Jai how he hasn’t gotten smoker’s lips.

“Fuck? … Fuck is niggas on? Thinking I’m hitting that,” Shekar mumbles, his soft voice breaking Jai’s focus.

And so, Jai finally looks at the whole of his face. Before he can stop himself, an airy laugh floats out of him. 

Shey’s always had a softer, quieter voice. Some days, it actually pisses him off, because having to go “huh” about five times before hearing what was said gets aggravating fast. Most times, he just finds it funny.

Although, he occasionally thinks it’s a little cute.

“Quit bitching. Y’know I hate that shit.” He smirks, he can’t help it. The thought of how he might react to the teasing is just too good.

Shekar can hear the smile in his voice. It’s quiet for a minute as he smokes.

And even if he’s sitting still, Jai might as well be bouncing in his seat, waiting with bated breath for a response, a clapback—anything.

Nevertheless, Shekar continues to scroll through his phone. The lingering stare on his body doesn’t bother him.

So as Jai continues to wait for a response he likely won’t get, he only watches. But waiting turns into something else as the thought leaves his mind for better: admiration. 

Is that what he wants to call it?

Either way, he’s staring at his hair. Eyeing the fresh lineup. It’s crisp. He can imagine how the trimmed hairs feel under his fingertips. 

The rest of his hair is pulled up into the most half-assed bun he’s ever seen. Just to get it out of his face, he guesses. His deep brown curls have seen better days.

“Your hair is mad frizzy. This day five hair?” 

He’s the only one that laughs at his own joke, let alone acknowledges it. And that makes his smile drop.

“C’mon, y’know I’m just joking.”

He waits a couple of seconds for a response. A reaction of some sort. And when it doesn’t come—

Jai sucks his teeth. “Nigga you mad sensitive. Mad sherm right now—”

With a loud sigh, Shekar shuts off his phone and drops it in his lap. Finally, he does a full-body turn just to look at him.

Jai fights himself to successfully restrain a smile.

“What you want?” 

This time, he loses the fight to his natural urges—a shit-eating grin slowly stretches out his full lips. It only continues to grow as he stares at Shekar. “You getting butthurt over a lil’ joke.”

“I just don’t wanna smoke your bum ass shit.”

“Yeah, aight.”

Shaking his head, Shekar passes the blunt back. He pretends he doesn’t see the slight tremor in Jai’s hand when their fingers touch in the exchange.

“Don’t beg for it when I take it out,” Jai smirks.

Under the cover of his naturally full lashes, Shekar eyes him, letting his words sit in the air for a bit. He waits patiently for a “pause” from the other. It doesn’t come.

With a scoff and a shake of his head, Shekar turns his head to look out the window.

“Oh, aight,” Jai challenges.

He only shakes his head again, neglecting to even say anything.

“You know you good for doing that.”

He rolls his eyes, almost letting a simple “shut the fuck up,” slip out. 

Finally, Jai stops speaking, if only to take a hit. Holding his breath, he shifts in his seat and yells: “It’s quiet, ain’t no what?” He exhales. “Oh, aight!”

His chuckles are deep. Shekar tries to ignore how his stomach stirs at the sound.

“Quiet, ain’t no motherfucking … back talk, nigga.” He’s only quiet for a couple more seconds, taking another quick puff. “You listen to what I say.”

Shekar can’t help it; He cracks a smile. He even quietly laughs to himself. “Now you just chattin’.”

“Ain’t nobody chattin’, nigga! I tell you to do something and you do it. Simple.”

This is too ridiculous to ignore. Shekar finds his body moving to look at him before he can even consciously do it.

“You off a bean?”

Letting go of the blunt, Jai allows it to dangle between his lips. His now free hand reaches forward, latching softly around the base of Shekar’s neck, just to drag him forward.

Just a few inches separate their faces. A small cloud puffs from the end of the shrinking blunt.

“If I tell you to do sumn right now, you gon’ say no?” He raises a brow.

Shekar looks down at his mouth, unconsciously memorizing the way his dark pink lips curl around the vice.

“Nah…” He watches how the corner of his mouth twitches, trying to hide a smirk. “I’a just remind you who you talking to.”

A scoff leaves his lips before an actual response does. Jai’s hand drops from his neck, pushing him away before catching the blunt before it falls. Now, he can really laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs out. “You ain’t doing shit, nigga.”

Shekar remains quiet. 

Seeing as the blunt has grown considerably smaller, he realizes that a bit of time has passed. It’s starting to hit, even by just a little bit.

He can tell by the sluggish feeling plaguing his body. As fatigue slowly blankets him, he recognizes that it’s only a matter of time before his patience begins to shorten.

Busying himself, Jai grabs his phone to queue up more songs for the Apple CarPlay. Even if the music plays low, he can still enjoy it. 

All the while as he silently jams out to the music, the blunt steadily becomes a roach. It isn’t glaringly obvious to him until the tiny thing burns the pads of his fingers. He quietly hisses before putting it out in the car’s mini ash tray. 

Missing the feeling of something in his hand and between his lips, he quickly replaces Shekar’s blunt with his own. He pulls it from the pocket of his Amiri hoodie.

“Yo, pass me that lighter?”

“Hm?” Shekar looks up from his phone. With low and glassy eyes, he searches the man next him for seconds as his words take their time to sink in. “Oh…”

A bit slower than usual, he grabs the lighter from the speed-o-meter’s ledge and drops it in Jai’s awaiting palm.

“‘Preciate you.”

He hums. This time, he looks Jai’s way. Watches how he turns the new blunt over the open flame.

“And you hitting this shit, too,” Jai insists.

Before he can think, Shekar softly sucks his teeth. “You tryna … smoke me out, nigga,” he mumbles, dragging a hand over his face as he leans back in his seat. “Told you I’an want that bum ass shit.”

Still, Jai sparks up. His first inhale is slow and deep. He only hits it about two more times before passing it off.

With no argument, Shekar accepts it. He puts his lips right where Jai’s were and inhales deeply.

“Look at how you still took it, though.”

Shekar coughs, though it’s not as bad as when they hit his blunt first. “Shut—shut up.”

“Exactly … took that shit real easy.” Jai looks at him with lowered eyes, a lazy smile on his lips, too. “You a pro at that, taking it, y’know?”

Face screwed up, Shekar sucks his teeth as he stares down at the blunt. “Yo, stop … fucking playing with me…”

His voice had trailed off.

“You is, though. I’m giving you your props lil’ nigga.” Jai nudges his shoulder, his smile growing to show off his perfect teeth.

Shekar fixes a dirty look on him. Even as he glares at him, Jai can tell that he’s baked. His low and glossy eyes drags laughter out of him.

“You gon’ quit bitchin’ me.”

Jai only laughs harder, having to put a fist over his mouth as he doubles over.

Sucking his teeth, Shekar turns to look out the window. His body is growing tense. “‘Fore I put my dick in your mouth.”

He’s wheezing at this point. Breathless as he looks up at him with an open mouth. “Yo … what? Nigga—I can’t even—I can’t even take you serious.”

“Yeah … keep laughing, pussy.” The slur in his words is soft, feeling the high really get to him. He sucks his teeth, his body feeling a little too light. “Choke on my shit.”

Jai’s fit dies down as he sucks his teeth. “Yeah, okay.” Sitting up straight, he partly stretches over the console to get in his face. “Bet you, you won’t,” he says hushed. 

Shekar turns to look at him with low eyes. There’s a hint of a scowl on his pink lips. “Bet you I fucking will.”

Jai peers down at them, his own stretching into a smile. “You won’t.”

“On everything.” His eyes widen as they fall on his.

“Fuck everything,” he says quietly. “Make me, pussy.” 

What little illumination the parking lot and tiny lights of the car’s interior offers shouldn’t be enough. 

But, if Shekar can roll up in the dark, then he doesn’t need much to see Jai bobbing his head over his lap.

The hand he’s got on his head guides him, as well as keeps his braids from falling in his face.

Soft gags and wet slurps are music to his ears—louder than his own moans.

“You wanted this shit … make sure you get it all.” He scowls, angling his hips up to hit the back of his throat.

The only answer Jai gives is a deep moan that sends a steady vibration through Shey’s dick. 

No doubt, he’s got bruises now. But that’s the least of his worries when he’s struggling to breathe properly.

“Doing all’at talking … had to shut you the fuck up.” He pushes him all the way down and holds his head there.

Jai’s gags and the way his throat constricts around him only make his dick twitch.

Shekar looks down at it all with a grin on his face, taking his time to admire despite Jai’s desperation to come up for air.

“You look good choking on my shit.” He licks his lips, admiring the view. 

Gripping the back of his head tighter, he yanks his head up.

As Jai is pulled off, he gasps. Harsh coughs leave him as his body tries to swallow as much air as possible.

But even as he’s struggling for it, Shekar still finds his plump, spit-slicked lips to be arousing. His chin is messy with his own spit and a bit of precum.

He gets in his face. “You still got somethin’ to say?”

Still gasping for air, Jai weakly shakes his head. Though, it’s difficult to do that when someone’s got a stiff grip on your hair.

“Speak, nigga.”

He swallows, and Shekar can see his throat bob. “Nah.” His voice is hoarse and broken. Ruined.

If he wasn’t so hard already, that would’ve got him there.

He hums, running his eyes over Jai’s face one more time.

“You pretty when you don’t speak. Maybe I should keep my dick in your mouth … but you gon’ do that anyway.”

“Shey—“

“Stop talking, nigga.” He ignores the way Jai winces when he tugs his on his hair harder. “I’an really tryna hear all’at. What I really wanna hear is you choking on my shit, ‘cause you blowing my high right now.”

So, Jai dutifully sinks his head back down on him, embracing Shekar’s dick with his throat.

“And keep your hands behind your back.”

They’ve never moved from the spot, crossed even, despite nothing holding them down.

Shekar only guides his head for the first few bobs. And he smiles as he slowly pulls his hand away, watching Jai take over for himself.

He wants to bet all of the money in his bank account that Jai hadn’t even noticed that he stopped guiding him. And it’s cause he’s a slut like that.

Shekar knows it better than anyone else. He doesn’t even need Jai to say it himself. This is all proof enough.

“Just like that … keep throatin’ my shit.” He laughs to himself, leaning back in his seat as he watches. “Make sure you clean up all the mess you making.”

 A broken moan sounds from the back of his throat. Jai pulls off of him. A full second doesn’t even go by before his mouth is back on his dick, suckling on the slick skin from the side.

All the while, in his other hand, Shekar smokes on whatever’s left of Jai’s blunt. He minds the burn in his nose and throat a little less.

“It’s quiet, right? No fucking back talk, nigga.” He licks his lips.

Every drop of precum that dribbles out, Jai is there to slurp up. While his pillow-soft lips surround him, his syphoned cheeks give a tight squeeze. 

And it’s got Shekar’s eyes rolling back, his head falling against the headrest, too. He’s got a hand back on Jai’s head, an attempt to slow down his quickening pace.

“S—shit … you a fucking eater … goddamn, nigga,” he groans out.

His gentle voice only goads Jai on. He wants to hear more of him. It makes his chest warm.

“Look at you … should record this, play it  back f’you later ... show you how much you love this shit.”

Jai falters in his pace, moaning at his words. His own dick aches in his sweats, untouched.

“How you the biggest slut I f-fuckin’ know—“ He hisses, his hips stutter. “Ain’t you?”

His only answer is a gag.

Shekar’s hand moves from the back of his head to the side, just far enough that his thumb caresses the side of his face.

“Ain’t you, Pa?” he asks softer.

Jai’s eyes fall closed and for a second he stops. His concentration is up by a thousand percent as he tries not to finish in his pants.

“Gimme a answer, c’mon,” he gently pushes.

And Jai only whimpers. It’s quiet, but Shekar definitely hears it.

“Mhm, I know … I know.” He inhales deeply. 

Tightening his grip on his hair once more, Shekar holds his head down. That’s the only warning he gives before he starts fucking up into his throat.

“So quit. Fuckin’. Actin’. Like. You. Not.” He grunts through clenched teeth.

The gags are harsher—wetter—this time. Jai’s hands clench into fists behind his back. Even as his eyes squeeze shut, tears slips from them, down his cheeks.

Sweat beads at the top of Shekar’s forehead as he punctuates each word with a thrust. His stomach clenches, burning with arousal and the workout this is.

“Quit acting like you not a lil’ thot f’this shit,” he pants, still holding his head down. “This what you needed, though … someone to shut you up. Give you some dick to keep you quiet.”

He takes a hit of the blunt.

“That’s all you was needing … I could tell. Just wanted my attention, right?”

A ragged, pathetic moan is the only response Jai can give. He even tries to nod his head. It isn’t much of anything, but Shekar sees the effort for what it is.

“Yeah … just wanted some attention.”

He finally pulls Jai off of his dick, allowing to breathe again. He ignores coughs and hacks.

“So I’ma give you what you really need.”

With Jai’s head just a few inches off of him, Shekar takes his dick in hand and pumps himself. It only takes a few fast tugs. 

His balls grow tight and a groan gets caught in his throat. Holding himself and aim, he paints Jai’s deep brown skin with ribbons of gooey white.

His cheeks and chin are outliers. Bullseye is on his shiny, parted lips. And the view from up here is to die for.

Biting down on his lower lip, Shekar taps his tip against Jai’s mouth as the last few drops of his cum dribble out.

“Fuuuck.”

When he’s finished, he releases’s Jai’s hair, allowing the other man to finally sit up. All the while, he finishes off the rest of the blunt.

Silently, too exhausted for his own good, Jai leans back in his seat, trying to catch his own breath.

“Shit, nigga,” he sighs out, voice broken beyond anything.

Shekar doesn’t respond, basking in his own orgasm still.

Weakly, Jai pulls down the sun visor on his side, accessing the mirror. As the automatic lights hit his face, he sees the mess made.

“Fuckin’ … got the shit all over me.”

Shekar exhales. “You whining, Jai.”

He turns his head to glare at him, a weak scowl on his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

It’s funny hearing how his voice is almost completely lost. Shekar smirks, still looking ahead at the empty parking lot.

“Bet you your standards not too high for them napkins now.”

And if Jai hadn’t learned his lesson, he would’ve said something back. But as he swallows, his throat sore, he’s reminded to keep his mouth closed.

[aventurineswife]

Gepard, Diluc, Kaeya and Sampo meeting their future child(ren)

The future child(ren) time travelled to the past to see what the characters and reader look like in the past or the future child(ren) messing with some device and it sends them tumbling to the past where reader and the characters were still not together

The Past Meets Future

Tags: Gepard Landau, Sampo Koski, Diluc Ragnvider, Kaeya Alberich, Time Travel, Future Children, Parent-Child Relationships, Alternate Realities, Family, Humor, Heartwarming, Surreal Situations.

Warnings: Mild Language, Minor Time-Travel Paradoxes (Not extensively explored), Light-hearted Mischief.

[Continuation]

It was a quiet morning in Belobog when Gepard felt the strange hum of energy near his quarters. He was in the midst of preparing for his duties as Captain of the Silvermane Guards, but something told him that today would be anything but ordinary.

The air shimmered briefly, and before him stood a young child—no older than twelve—dressed in unfamiliar clothing. The child had a strange aura about them, their presence both comforting and bewildering. The child’s hair resembled his own, and the eyes, though softer, were unmistakably his. They even stood with a quiet dignity, much like him, though they wore a curious look on their face as they took in the surroundings.

"Captain Landau," the child spoke, their voice clear yet tinged with a familiarity that sent a shiver down his spine. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."

Gepard’s brow furrowed. "And who might you be, child?" he asked, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. Despite his confusion, his protective instincts kicked in.

"I’m... your child," the young one replied, somewhat sheepishly. "From the future. I... uh, sort of messed with a device and ended up here."

Gepard's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze around him. His child? From the future? A million questions flooded his mind, but the most pressing was, "How did you get here?"

The child smiled sheepishly, holding up a small, glowing device. "I wasn’t trying to time travel, honest! But the device malfunctioned, and... here I am. I just wanted to see what you were like back then."

Despite the whirlwind of emotions crashing through him—astonishment, worry, and something else he couldn't quite place—Gepard knelt down to the child's level. "Then... you’re safe. That’s all that matters. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The child smiled warmly, and Gepard’s heart clenched. He didn't know what the future held, but with this child in front of him, the weight of his duty to protect the people of Belobog felt more personal than ever.

[Header credits]

Diluc stood at the balcony of his manor, gazing at the sky. It had been a peaceful evening, and yet, something about the air felt charged with an unfamiliar energy. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a soft voice calling from the doorway.

"Daddy?"

Diluc turned sharply, his heart racing. Standing before him was a young child, their hair practically glowing in the fading light, a small figure dressed in an outfit that looked both futuristic and out of place. Their eyes, a perfect blend of his own, looked up at him with confusion and a little bit of awe.

"Who are you?" Diluc asked, his voice soft but firm, wary of the sudden intrusion.

The child hesitated for a moment before grinning, their expression full of mischievous confidence. "I’m your kid! Well, I’m from the future, but I wanted to see you back when you were younger. So... I accidentally used a time-traveling device and, uh, here I am."

Diluc’s heart skipped a beat. His child? From the future? He stared at the child, momentarily lost for words. His gaze softened as he looked at the redhead who had inherited his fiery hair and, undoubtedly, a fierce spirit.

"You’re... my child?" Diluc muttered, his hand resting on the balcony railing, as if steadying himself. "How is this possible?"

The child’s grin widened. "I’m not sure how I got here, but I guess this is your present! Cool, huh?"

Diluc chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the strange situation, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in his chest. "You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

The child laughed, and Diluc’s stoic demeanor melted for a moment, replaced by something akin to hope. Maybe the future wasn’t as uncertain as he thought, if this was what awaited him—someone to carry on his legacy, someone to share his heart.

[Header credits]

Kaeya was lounging in his office, his feet propped up on his desk as he sipped his drink, savoring the silence. That was until the air around him began to shimmer and warp, and suddenly, a small figure appeared at the doorway.

Kaeya’s gaze locked onto the child standing there, their his, and their eyes—bright and familiar—locked with his. The child was grinning mischievously, their posture radiating the same confidence that Kaeya himself carried.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Kaeya raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "You seem familiar, little one."

"I’m your kid from the future," the child replied cheerfully, practically bouncing with excitement. "I wanted to meet you, and—well—I may have messed up a little with a time-traveling device. Whoops!"

Kaeya leaned forward, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "From the future, huh? Interesting. So, what brings you to the past?"

The child put their hands on their hips, looking proud. "I just wanted to see you back when you were younger. And maybe cause a little trouble along the way."

Kaeya chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Of course, I’m raising a troublemaker. Seems like you’ve inherited more than just my looks, haven’t you?"

The child nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! Got all your charm, too."

Kaeya’s heart warmed at the sight of the child—his child—standing before him. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but seeing this little version of himself made him believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be a future worth fighting for.

Sampo was busy in his workshop, his hands deftly working on a new "project" when he felt a sudden shift in the air. He looked up to find a small figure standing before him, their appearance completely out of place. Their eyes and mischievous grin were all too familiar.

"Well, well," Sampo said, raising an eyebrow. "Who’s this little troublemaker?"

The child, no older than twelve, grinned. "I’m your kid from the future! I wanted to meet you, and I might’ve messed up with a time-traveling device... but I’m here now!"

Sampo laughed, his usual charm never faltering. "Oh, is that so? A little time traveler, huh? You’ve got guts to show up like this."

"Yeah! I figured if anyone could handle a little mischief, it’d be you," the child replied, eyes sparkling. "So, what’s it like in the present or the past? I bet it’s all sorts of exciting!"

Sampo’s heart skipped a beat. His child. From the future. The idea was surreal, but there was something undeniably precious about this small version of himself standing before him.

"Well, the present is never boring," he said, grinning. "But I’m sure you’ve got a lot to learn before you can keep up with me."

The child grinned back, full of mischief and curiosity, and Sampo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Despite all his faults, maybe this little one was proof that, somewhere down the line, he’d found something truly worth protecting.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 11

With Initial Concepts of Sanji's Skypiea Outfit

Main Themes: V̴i̵l̴l̸a̶i̸n̷ ̴S̵a̴n̴j̵i̷, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Law asked to play judge in the first round so he can properly gauge what he's up against. Sanji gladly entertained this to keep him interested and took the step forward to make the first move of their little game.

He positions himself ten metres away from a nearby tree that's angled over the edge of the riverbank. After warming up a couple of times by jumping on the spot, he runs up to it, extends the claws of his gauntlet then begins to use all fours to gradually increase his speed as he clambered up, twisting around the trunk several times, defying gravity, before leaping off the very top–his movements barely seen but the trail of stripped leaves and bark that he leaves behind. Mid-air, he does a series of impressive twirls and flips before landing flawlessly with a roll on the other side of the river. Standing upright, he takes a small bow then raises a hand to gesture over Zoro to take his turn in a challenging way.

Law claps slowly. The sound echoes across. He's not looking too impressed.

The swordsman cups a hand over his mouth and shouts.

Zoro

BOO! SEEN IT!

Sanji

ACK–! I was trying to show Law an example of what we can do!

Law

It's pretty standard even for you.

I'll give you basic points for ordinary.

Sanji gasps sharply. He throws a hand over his cheek like he'd just been slapped in the face, feeling offended.

Sanji

B–BASIC?!

Let's see you do better then, moss for brains!

“Standard”.... “Ordinary”....

The blonde grumbles the last couple of words grumpily as he kicks pebbles and sticks on the ground.

Zoro smirks at his reaction then calmly approaches a different tree. This one, unsurprisingly, has long vines dangling over it. He begins to climb it without a rush.

Law

Oh, here we go….

Sanji

What's with him and swinging…?

When the swordsman reaches the topmost branch that he can stand on, he reaches for a thick vine hanging in front of him and gives it a couple of strong tugs to test its durability. Confident it can take his weight, he clears his throat and grips the vine with both hands.

Sanji and Law both look at the swordsman in anticipation, expecting that he'll do something extraordinary given that the man had wanted to swing since the moment they arrived on the island.

After a pregnant pause, Zoro leaps off the branch, bellowing out loud booming noises projected from the back of his throat. There was nothing fancy in his swing. It was all just long guttural singing that echoed through the jungle. When he finally lets go and lands in front of Sanji, he looks absolutely pleased with himself, placing his hands on his hips.

Sanji

That's… that's it?

Zoro

Told ya it was good.

Sanji

After all that, that's all you got?

Law teleports, appearing in an instant between them.

Law

Zoro takes the round.

Sanji

WHAT?!?

Zoro

Hah!

Sanji

But why?!

Law

Points for… the unexpected.

Sanji throws his hands up in the air in frustration as Zoro raises a clenched fist in the air in victory.

—

They trudge through a particularly lush terrain. Zoro walked ahead, slicing long shrubs and leaves out of the way as the two followed behind him. Law has a snobbish look on his face.

Law

Not a good start, Pirate King-ya. Are you sure you played this game before?

It was Sanji's turn to look like he wanted to smack the man in the head. He takes a long drag of his smoke to compose himself before stomping on the leftover cigarette butt.

Zoro

I've seen him do crazy shit but that was just sad.

The blonde snaps and grabs the swordsman at the back of his collar to pull him face to face.

Sanji

Cocky shitty swordsman aren't you? You're supposed to be supportive of me!

Zoro didn't look surprised, fully remembering that Sanji has a certain temper whenever his ego gets damaged. He shrugs his shoulders.

Zoro

Hey, you set the stakes high. I can't let either one of you take advantage of my Warlord status.

And if you know Traffy, he has a certain love for spontaneity.

Still feeling pissed, Sanji lets go of the man. He walks ahead and lights another smoke.

Sanji

What does that even mean?

Zoro and Law follow him. The swordsman sheaths his sword, yawns then rests his hands at the back of his head.

Zoro

I mean, I wasn't too surprised when Luffy told me he's seeing him. At first, I thought it was just a once off–

Law

Zoro-ya!

Zoro

What? Was it supposed to be a secret?

Sure made that clear when you made out drunk in the middle of The Sunny–

Law

Enough already!

Sanji spins, walking backwards. His face lit up.

Sanji

No–tell me more! Traffy, I rarely hear anything about you and the Straw Hat!

Law pockets his hands, looking smaller with his hunched shoulders while grumbling to himself. There’s a tint of pink in his ears.

 Sanji

Trafalgar D. Water Law…

Law

WHAT?

Sanji

You’re in love!

Zoro grins widely.

Law

ACK–

Sanji mirrored the swordsman’s smile. He teasingly prods.

Sanji

So…? Tell us how it happened….

Law

No.

Zoro

But he is, though.

Law

Shut up or I’ll slice your head off and keep it in a bag for the rest of the trip.

Sanji

Ohohoho! You’re cute when you’re defensive.

Zoro

Careful, the first time I met Traffy, I saw him behead a bunch of Marines. Left them alive too.

Sanji

Huh! What a useful power.

Sanji turns around to walk forwards. He dips his head down so his face is hidden behind his fringe, nursing the cigarette between his lips.

Sanji

Still, I don’t think you should be ashamed when you’re in love with someone.

Zoro and Law quietly observe him, detecting some sadness in his tone of voice. The swordsman considers his statement very carefully, suddenly having doubts if the man shares the same feelings as he does, or if there’s something that he did wrong.

Law

I have a feeling you’ll like him.

The blonde’s head tilts slightly towards him, listening closely.

Law

He…has this…effect on people. Even animals. He brightens up the room wherever he goes….

There is a moment of silence as the other two process that comment. 

Zoro

I miss him too, Traffy.

Law averts his gaze to the side, trying to hide a smile and the ever reddening state of his face.

Sanji

I’d like to meet him one day. I keep hearing good things about the guy.

Zoro

He’s one of a kind. You’d know it when you see him.

After this, if you like, I can–

Sanji suddenly stops. He holds his arm out, signalling everyone to halt.

Law follows his instruction but Zoro accidentally bumps into his back.

Law

What is it?

Sanji

I believe I found our next obstacle.

Come on then! And be careful where you step.

The blonde steps aside and pulls back the shrubs to give way for the two to walk through. When they do, they find themselves on a cliffside with a rickety old bridge in front of them that connects their end of the island to the next. It’s barely holding itself together with most of the planks already rotted from weather and age. 

Zoro

Huh. I knew we’d been ascending but I didn’t realise how high up we were already.

Sanji gives one of the support ropes a shake. The bridge wobbles, causing certain planks across the span of the bridge to give away and fall into the White Sea far below.

Law

Zoro-ya, you and me. Let’s do this.

Sanji

So keen! What’s got you all fired up?

Zoro

He’s just sore because he’s still shy about the whole Luffy thing.

Law

Am not!

I’ll kick your ass. You’ll see.

Sanji

Hold on, I want to watch from that side.

The blonde takes off his shoes and jumps on the rope that he’d been shaking. Effortlessly, he balances himself with one leg with his other raised up to his chest. He begins walking on the bridge with ease, still smoking his cigarette with one hand and holding his shoes with the other. He spreads out his arms now and then to shift his weight when gusts of wind cause the bridge to wobble slightly.

Zoro and Law watch his nerve-wrecking tightrope act as he makes his way over the White Sea. Both watching him nervously but also in silent amazement. Feeling that he had eyes on him, Sanji stops on his tracks and turns.

Sanji

What?

Zoro

How are you doing that?

Law

You remind me of one of those circus acts.

Sanji scoffs at that and breathes out smoke. He looked almost angry at the topic mentioned.

Sanji

I was part of one, when I was younger. I was taken in by a pirate troupe before they sold me to…you know what? I-it’s a long story.

I’ll meet you on the other side!

Sanji sounded like he didn't mean to reveal those details out loud. He spins and continues his way across.

Zoro and Law share a look, intrigued by the hint of the blonde's not very well known past which clearly caused a sudden shift in the man's demeanour. The swordsman continued to eye him, but now, more worriedly. He makes a point to make sure he checks in on him later as he knew he didn’t like talking about his history surrounding his life as a slave. He wonders if talking about Luffy had somehow triggered memories.

When Sanji gets to the other side, he vaults down on land and gives them a wave, signalling to go.

Law

So, Zoro-ya?

You did win the last round after all. Do you want to go first?

Zoro

No, I… I need to think.

Law

Don’t hurt yourself.

Zoro

Tch.

Law flicks his wrist and casts his Room ability.

Law

Tact!

Zoro jumps back to give the man some space, fully aware of what comes next.

The ground directly beneath the doctor floats up, shaped like a miniature island enough to hold his weight. It parts itself away from the main earth to carry him midair. Adjacent to the extracted ground, more mini islands pop up and begin to follow the one he’s standing on. They begin to spin around him as he flies towards the other side of the cliff.

The swordsman watches Law make an impressive show of his flight to Sanji. He should be focused on thinking of different ways that he could win the round so he can get two points ahead of everyone. Instead, he finds that he has his mind set on something else.

When he sees Law finish with a spectacular landing with his Tact ability, Zoro walks behind the nearest and tallest tree he could find. With one smooth swipe of Wado, the tree tips forward. The tall end of it crashes loudly on the other side, creating his very own bridge. He jumps up and speedily walks through.

On the other side, he’s met with Sanji’s bright blue eyes and wide grin–a sight that will never get old in his opinion. 

Sanji

Again, with the little-to-no-effort attempt? You realise that I like it when people make a show of–mmph!

Zoro wraps a hand around the blonde’s hair and the other around the small of his back, yanking him into a sudden kiss. He tips the man backwards, lowering him towards the ground. He didn’t hesitate to push his tongue into the man’s mouth to pleasure him, causing surprised moans from the blonde in reaction. Sanji wraps his arms around his neck while his leg hooks around his back.

Law

OH, COME ON! THIS IS NOT FAIR!

Law spins around swiftly, walking the opposite direction to avoid seeing the couple in action.

The swordsman pulls back to look at Sanji eye to eye. He receives fluttering eyelids and a flustered face in return. The blonde reaches out to caress his face tenderly as they breathe in each other’s air for a moment. Right there and then, Zoro felt the utmost need to confess his love to him but decided against it because of the doctor’s presence. He wants him to know. He needs him to know.

The blonde giggles and licks his lips seductively.

Sanji

Aren’t you full of surprises today?

I believe I’ve reached a verdict….

Zoro straightens them both up. Sanji runs his hands over his open robe, fixing the crumpled fabric, then takes a step back.

Sanji

Law wins the round.

Law turns back rapidly. Zoro’s mouth is agape.

Zoro and Law

EHH?!?

Sanji shrugs, raising his hands as if to surrender.

Sanji

You made a great point earlier–the stakes are high. I can’t be biased just because we’re fucking. And I did say that I like it when people make a show of things. And Law's was just flashier. Nice try, but you can’t buy me like that.

Zoro felt hurt. Not because he didn’t win the round but because it didn't sound like he made much of an impact judging on the blonde’s tone of voice. He now has more doubts if his feelings for the man are reciprocated or felt at all. He considers the fact that the blonde is still allied with Doflamingo. Sanji had made it clear that they have had prior history together but he’s never specifically stated where they stand or what his intentions are with the other Warlord since getting together with him. He remembers Niji’s warning to him that he’s just a phase, making him even more worried.

Speechless, he watches the blonde walk off to the dirt path ahead.

—

They approach a waterfall in front of them. While they see a safer way around by following the path, Zoro suggests that they climb it instead as their next obstacle. The other two agreed and named him the next judge for the round.

Law

Think you can handle this, basic man?

Sanji lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag of smoke before exhaling.

Sanji

Tch. Bring it, mediocre doctor.

Zoro speedily runs up the rockface until he reaches the top of the waterfall so he could watch from above. He peeks over the edge and gives the two contenders a wave to signal them to go.

Law doesn't give the blonde a chance to make the first move. He takes a deep breath, then withdraws his sword and slices a nearby boulder at its base, detaching it from the ground. Following his swing, he swipes his blade upwards, slicing the boulder into smaller pieces and sending them up high. An aura of blue surrounds the area almost immediately, in which the doctor begins to make a series of teleportation and aerobatic jump maneuvers to climb his way up–zigzagging in the air, swapping places with the stones that he'd sent flying. At the very tip of the cliff, he lands gracefully on his feet, exhaling the air he'd been holding in his lungs. He gives Zoro a casual tip of his hat, making everything that he's just done look effortless.

Zoro nods back and raises an impressed brow as if to say “not bad”.

Out of nowhere, the grounds start shaking, and a giant Sky Shark bursts out from downstream the waterfall. Zoro and Law had to jump back to avoid the eventual drop as the giant creature lands in a huge crash by the riverbank. It raises its head up in the sky, roaring an earthshaking cry before it collapses dead on the ground in front of the two. Sanji pulls out his bloody claws from the back of its head and straightens up, his face full of pride from the successful hunt. Law presumed that he'd controlled the shark’s movements using its nervous system to swim up the cloud stream somehow.

Zoro looks between Sanji and Law, unsure with the decision. A sweatdrop flows down his brow. After some hesitation, he opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted.

Sanji

Who's hungry? I believe it's dinner time.

Zoro and Law blink at him, then gaze towards the sky. They'd been so focused on the game that they didn't even realise the time. The sun is a couple of hours away from sinking.

Law

SHIT!

Law shuffles through his coat pockets in panic. He pulls out the Skypiea map and scans through it, his eyes shifting left and right rapidly. He lets out a pained groan and slaps his forehead, almost knocking his cap off his head.

Law

Fuck! We've been going the wrong way for at least three hours!!!

Zoro

…I think we're having way too much fun with this.

Sanji hops down from the shark's head and gives that devilish smile of his.

Sanji

But you are… having fun…aren't you?

Zoro takes his time admiring the man's features before smirking back at him.

Zoro

I don't know about Tra-guy, but I am.

Law crosses his arms. Sanji can't help but notice that he's slightly pouting.

Law

I can't say I'm not, I suppose.

Sanji grins at them playfully.

—

Sanji cringes at the way Zoro gutted the giant Sky Shark. Granted, they had limited tools to prepare a proper meal, bringing only what’s necessary that can be used for multiple purposes. One of them is apparently the man’s katana which he thought was overkill. He’d at least hoped that the man would be more efficient with pulling the meat out of the creature.

Zoro had used his swords to cut it open like a mad brute he is. He jerks his sword from its flesh, causing its guts to messily splatter on the ground. Afterwards, he turns his attention to the fins, slicing them clean off before tossing them aside out of his way. Before they fall onto the ground, Sanji catches them one by one.

Sanji

Err…Marimo, you know we can use these right?

Zoro

Hah? But the big chunk of meat isn't in them.

Sanji

While the body should give us enough to last us for at least a week, we can use these to stretch it longer, maybe even another week. These still have some good stuff in it.

Zoro

That’s good–I didn’t know that. Why don’t you prep those for cooking then? I’ll keep at this.

The swordsman begins to slice the shark’s skin open with his katana, tearing the perfect meat that Sanji knew was inside them.

Sanji

H-hey! I uh…why don't we just trade jobs and find us some firewood instead hmm? Maybe set up the fire too while you’re at it.

Zoro

But I got a big sword. This is a big fish.

The blonde carefully lays the giant fins on a pile of large leaves that he had put aside earlier. He rummages through his pack to pull out a leather scroll containing various kitchen knives that he'd borrowed from the Polar Tang. He spreads it out on their makeshift table.

Sanji

I got it covered.

Impressed and surprised with his collection, Zoro follows his instructions and walks off. The sound of trees being felled is heard from a distance.

Law returns to their dedicated campsite with an armful of various herbs and crops. He drops them unceremoniously next to the shark fins. Sanji recognises most of them, much to his relief, but some look alien to him.

Sanji

Thanks. Uh… are those edible?

Law

Most of them. Some I need for medicinal purposes.

Sanji

Why did you mix it all in–?

Law

Is this good to go?

The doctor grabs one of the fins he’s set aside and settles himself on the makeshift table. He begins to cover the meat with some of the herbs he'd collected but the blonde notices that some of the weird-looking ones had been mixed up.

Sanji

They still need to be peeled and cleaned–AHH! DON'T!

D-doctor…why don't you fetch us some water instead?

Law

Hah? Why don’t you do it? I'm already in the middle of this.

Sanji

You're butchering it…. Just–just–

Zoro

Oi, Traffy! I just got a fire going!

Law

Perfect. Let's get to it.

Law grabs a random stick from the ground and skewers the fin messily, bits of loose meat and herbs fall off on the ground. He walks towards Zoro but then a hand grabs onto his coat and pulls him back.

Sanji

ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Seriously, how are you two still alive?!

Zoro and Law

Hah?!

Law

It's just food.

Sanji

Not in that state, it's not!

What's this–? Traffy, did you shove an entire garlic inside it?!

Zoro

I thought you don't give a shit about good food?

Sanji

I care about it being edible!

Sanji yanks the doctor backwards and swipes the skewered fin off his hands.

Sanji

You–get some water. And come back with some more of those vegetables but DON’T just dump them all in a mixed pile with your doctor crap. Sort them out!

And you–clean up this mess! Don't you go camping? If we leave food out it'll attract unwanted creatures while we sleep!

Zoro

Why do I get to clean?

Sanji

You make the mess, you clean it up!

Zoro and Law watch the grumpy man take charge of the whole thing, effectively shooing them away from their made up kitchen station.

—

By nightfall they settled around the fire to feed themselves with Sanji's cooking. They also have extra food that the blonde has portioned and set aside which should last them a couple of weeks. Upon realising that they have to pack them up and carry them for the road, Zoro clears his bag to make way for the food. He starts pulling out bottles of booze that he'd stolen from the Polar Tang which Law wasn't too happy with.

Sanji

Nothing goes to waste.

After giving Law his portion, he winks at Zoro as he hands him his bowl of stir-fry Sky Shark with rice and native produce. Grabbing a bowl for himself, he settles himself next to the swordsman by the fire.

Sanji

The same goes with the booze. We better drink it all up.

Zoro

You read my mind.

Zoro leans over and kisses his cheek lightly.

Zoro

Thanks for the meal, Curlybrows.

Sanji

It's nothing.

Law

Yes, thank you, Mr. Prince-ya. It’s much appreciated.

Sanji

What, are you going to give me a kiss too?

I don’t think Marimo would appreciate that.

Law

Go to hell.

Sitting at the opposite side of the fire, Law takes a bite and audibly groans out loud in pleasure, causing the two to look at him curiously.

The doctor notices them staring and closes his eyes, trying to ignore them.

Law

What? It's good.

Zoro blinks at that and takes a bite himself. He pauses for a second as his eye widens. Suddenly, he begins to chow down on the food as fast as he can.

Zoro

YO ROIGHT! ISH SHO GOOD!!!

Sanji

Slow down or else you'll choke–

The swordsman does. He repeatedly punches his chest to clear out the blockage. Sanji gives his back a couple of good whacks, causing the man to cough. Finally, Zoro takes a big gulp and downs the rest with the help of his drink.

When they finished their meals and each had at least a couple of bottles of booze to themselves, they sat around the fire to unwind, fully satisfied from their fill of food and tipsy from all the drinking. Zoro was first to spill his thoughts from his loosened tongue.

Zoro

You lied to me.

Sanji blows smoke from his lungs then tosses the spent cigarette into the fire. He looks at him curiously.

Sanji

What about? I personally thought that I've been good recently.

Zoro tilts his head slightly towards him.

Zoro

You have. But I thought you told me one time that you don't give a shit about good food?

That was one of the best meals I've ever had.

Law

I agree. Seems like there's a lot we don't know about you, Mr. Prince-ya.

Sanji's face goes red from the flattery. He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them. He sighs.

Sanji

When I was young, I used to cook for my sick mother. It was around the time when my father had just locked me away. I kept begging the guards to bring me recipe books and ingredients to cook with. Some of the kind ones obliged. I really wanted to get good at it. Maybe, I thought, it would help heal her somehow…. That's when I read about the All Blue. I uh…even wanted to find it. It was a childish dream.

The blonde takes a swill from his bottle. He smacks his lips then leans back with a hand on the ground behind him for support, looking up to the clear skies above them.

Sanji

When she died, I tried to keep it up to get some semblance of joy out of…something. But being in isolation for so long and having my siblings beat me down for trying, it just led to nothing good…I don't know…. Over time, I lost interest, along with my will to live. I think the old me died right there and then, in that old dark cell where my father kept me. Along with any dreams I had.

Eventually, because I stopped asking the guards to bring me anything, I was forgotten. Starved. I had to go without any food for months before someone would remember and bring me their scraps out of pity.

Sanji gestures at the pile of food that they had bundled up sitting near their packs.

Sanji

So yeah, I don't give a shit about good food. But I won't let any go to waste in my watch. There's so much you can do to even the smallest parts of an ingredient.

Zoro and Law look at him sadly. The doctor sighs, then stretches his legs on the ground outwards, trying to warm his feet in front of the fire.

Law

Well, I thought your food was delicious. What you learned from those recipe books must have stuck with you. Clearly you have a natural talent for it. Imagine what you can do now if you get back to it…if that's something you want to do that is.

Sanji doesn't look at him, but he gives his statement a long good thought.

Sanji

Thanks…Traffy.

Zoro gazes between the two of them. He stretches his arm out with an open palm, asking if he can share some of Sanji's drink. The blonde obliges and hands the bottle over. The swordsman gratefully takes and drinks from it. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before staring up at the sky, watching a couple of falling stars fly by.

Zoro

Kuina.

Sanji and Law look at him curiously.

Zoro

She was my goal. She's one of the reasons why I wanted to be the world's greatest swordsman.

We both made a promise to each other…but one day, she just suddenly passed. Some unfortunate accident with a flight of steps. It happens, I suppose. But now I carry our shared dream with me, and I intend to fulfill it, no matter what it takes.

Sanji

She sounds special to you. Is that why you're so keen on defeating Mihawk?

Zoro chuckles lightly.

Zoro

Yes, partly. But then…you happened.

Sanji

Oh…but–

Zoro

You're not a swordsman, I know. But defeating you became my goal. How can I top Mihawk when I can't even beat you?

The blonde looks down at the fire, thinking hard. He's unsure on what can be done to rectify this, or what to do with the information that Zoro had thought of him in this way for so many years without him knowing. He certainly doesn't want to get back to their old ways just so the man can fulfil his dreams.

Law

Have you tried to face Mihawk recently, Zoro-ya? Surely fighting the Pirate King of the North for a couple of decades would have given you a lot more experience than just your normal training regimen.

Zoro's brows shoot up at that realisation.

Zoro

No…. I haven't challenged him since I was nineteen.

…Why didn't I think of that?

Sanji lays down on the ground, resting his hands behind his head.

Sanji

I'm not saying that you're better than me in a fight…but you did kill me that one time. If not for my siblings, I would have been a goner for good.

The swordsman laughs out loud. He slaps his forehead with a hand as he leant backwards.

Zoro

That's true! I have beaten you!!!

Sanji

That was one round! We had many more battles afterwards. Don't let it go to your huge moss head!

Zoro

Uh-huh. How does it feel to have the silver medal?

Sanji

Shut up. Keep that up and I'll show you who's really on top here.

Zoro stops laughing but smirks at the man. Sanji returns his smile with his own.

Zoro

Don't make promises you can't keep.

Sanji

Guess I'll just have to show you….

The swordsman leans over and plants a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, lingering there for a moment as they both take in each other's breaths.

Law rolls his eyes and looks away. It seems like there's going to be more of this and the day is barely out. At the corner of his eye, he sees the bottle being offered to him by the swordsman. Reluctantly, he takes it.

The doctor looks down at the bottom of the bottle through its mouth. He purses his lips, hesitant to talk. After a while, he takes a swill and hugs his knees to his chest. He stares sorrowfully at the campfire in front of them as he speaks weakly.

Law

I think Cora-san is well and truly dead.

Sanji sits up and both him and the swordsman look at him in disbelief.

Law keeps his gaze averted, feeling ashamed. From his coat pockets, he pulls out the stack of letters that he'd collected throughout his journey prior to the two joining him.

Law

I don't know when and how…but he left all these for me to find. I'm guessing it's whenever he was away from home while he was still undercover. I think he left me these as a gift. Like he's trying to show me something.

I…I didn't want to admit it to anyone else. I haven't told the rest of my crew either. I was afraid no one would want to come along if they knew the truth.

Zoro looked shocked but Sanji wore an impassive face. He waits until he sees Law looks at him eye to eye before he speaks.

Sanji

How do you know he's truly dead? What if he's waiting for you right at the end?

Law

I saw his corpse, Mr. Prince-ya.

I wanted to believe that it was possible for him to be alive when I first found his letters…but I just kept remembering his dead body right before my eyes….

He looks down at the tattoos on his hand.

Law

My knowledge as a trained surgeon only solidified the fact that there was no way for him to survive all that.

Sanji sighs, but doesn't prod any further. Instead, he resides in returning his gaze to the stars above.

Sanji

I'm sorry. That must have been hard.

Zoro

I agree. That's rough, Traffy.

Law

Wait, you two aren't mad or upset? You're not just going to bail from all this?

Zoro

I agreed to come along because we're friends. And I intend to stick around. Plus I know that I won't hear the end of it from Luffy if I don't help. 

So…what's keeping you, Curls?

Sanji raises his brows at the two of them, feeling surprised at being questioned.

Sanji

If you had told me all this earlier, I may have left, that much is true.

Law

And…now?

The blonde smiles at the doctor then scoops out Zoro's hand and places a kiss on the palm of his hand. The swordsman's eye softens as they hold hands.

Sanji

Unfortunately for you, I’ve grown fond of you lot. Guess you're stuck with me for a while.

Suddenly, all of Zoro's doubts from earlier in the day washed away, almost like there was no trace of it. He'd never been more sure about what he wants for the rest of his life.

Sanji shifts on his side and props himself on his elbow, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand.

Sanji

So, Marimo-kun? Your final verdict for this round?

Law blinks dumbfoundedly at that, then his eyes widen and mouth drops open at the slow realisation.

Law

THE FOOD AND ALL THIS WAS PART OF YOUR STUNT, YOU BASTARD?!

Zoro grins widely.

Zoro

Curls wins this round by a long shot. Sorry, Traffy.

Sanji laughs heartily.

—

The dim light from the campfire shone through Zoro and Sanji's shared tent. It was dark but they had just enough light for them to see their silhouettes.

The swordsman loomed over the other on their sheets, pounding hard into him at a slow pace.

Sanji arches his back and tries to move his own hips. He grips the sheets behind his head to get a better angle.

Sanji

M-Marimo…I need–ah–I need…more–

The swordsman indulges him and thrusts faster, pulling the man's hip upwards as he pushes down to penetrate deeper. He hears the man under him let out a stifled moan from the new angle.

Zoro

Fuck…you're so tight. You fit me so well….

His movements become erratic as he approaches his peak.

With desperate eyes and a flushed face, Sanji speaks through broken breaths.

Sanji

Ah–I want you to…f-fill me up…and m-make a mess of me...

Zoro groans at that. He pulls out suddenly to flip the man onto his stomach and pin him to the ground. He grabs his hips up to reinsert himself in one smooth motion.

Sanji

AHH! R–right there!! Fuck!

The swordsman starts a brutal unrelenting thrusts to give Sanji exactly what he asked for.

Repeatedly feeling Zoro hit his sweet spot and the friction of his own dick on the ground quickly takes Sanji over the edge. His eyes roll at the back of his head in pure bliss and, with a cry, he spills over their sheets. The swordsman follows almost immediately, filling him with a generous load.

They both take a moment to catch their breaths and recover from the high. With a grunt, Zoro pulls out and collapses next to his companion. He buries his face into the other's blonde hair to nuzzle the back of his neck with his nose, not seeming to get enough of his scent.

Sanji reaches out behind him to grab the swordsman's hand. He brings it over his shoulder to plant a kiss on his hand.

Sanji

For the record…I liked your swinging earlier today.

Zoro chuckles at that.

Zoro

Yeah? I'm glad you enjoyed the show.

Sanji

And then the way you suddenly kissed me after that other, poor attempt of a stunt–was so hot.

Being showered with compliments left the swordsman speechless. Instead of speaking, he wraps his arms around the blonde's waist to pull him in a tight embrace, smooching the back of his head in appreciation. He kicks himself for having any sort of doubts about the man earlier in the day.

After a short rest, Sanji turns his head to face Zoro. He gives a light peck on his nose, his fingers slide up to play with his earrings.

Sanji

Think you can handle round three?

He starts pecking him under his jaw, moving his way down. He gives him a small bite at the nook of his neck.

Zoro chuckles lightly, still trying to catch his breath as he gets pushed to lay on his back.

Zoro

In a moment. You drive me crazy, do you know that?

Sanji lets out a pleasurable moan in response and mounts him, giving him a barrage of kisses from his neck down to his chest, earning him a deep sigh in satisfaction.

Zoro

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

The swordsman cups his face and pulls him up gently to get a proper look at him, then slides his hands up and down the man's front, eyeing him up and down.

Mouth agape, Sanji grinds his dick over the other's already growing semi.

Zoro

F-fuck…

Zoro props himself on an elbow then sits up to wrap his arms around the blonde's waist. He buries his face on his neck, under the cover of his disheveled hair. He takes a long whiff of his scent as he slides his hands up and down his back.

Sanji

Sorry, I can't wait. I just can't get enough of you.

Sanji tilts his head to claim his mouth. His hands travel up to tangle his fingers in his hair. He pulls him closer to deepen the kiss.

Zoro groans out loud as his mouth gets penetrated and explored with the blonde's experienced tongue. He welcomes him, leaving his mouth agape as the other makes a mess out of him.

They stay like this for a while until Sanji pulls himself to look at the swordsman who tips slightly forward to follow the momentum, craving for more.

Sanji

What's on your mind?

Zoro

Hmm?

Zoro's eye flutters open, looking into the other’s wide diluted blue eyes.

Sanji

You've got something in your mind…. I can tell. Are you okay?

Zoro

I…y-yeah….

Sanji caresses his face with the back of his hand.

Sanji

You know, we don't have to go for another round if you don't feel like it. You know that you can say no, right?

Zoro

No, no, I do want to. It's just….

Zoro leans forwards until their foreheads touch together.

Zoro

I'm just thinking how much you mean to me. And how much I've fallen for you. I'm crazy for you, and I hope you know that. I don't want to ever let you go.

Sanji's eyebrows shoot up, then his expression softens, feeling his face go red. He gives him a warm smile.

Sanji

Zoro… you know that I lo–

Out of nowhere, blood bursts out of the blonde’s nose, spilling over Zoro’s chest. It continues to twinkle down his chin.

Sanji

Not again!

Sanji pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head back as he lifts himself off the swordsman to sit back on his heels.

Zoro

Hold on, let me get my old robe.

Sanji

Don’t be silly. It’ll stain. I’ll grab some rags from outside.

There's something that I've always wanted to tell you too…. Don't go anywhere.

Sanji gives him one final wink before grabbing his cloak and wraps himself in it.

Zoro smiles sweetly at that, feeling excited especially after getting a hint of what the blonde had wanted to say.

Zoro

A-alright. I’ll be here.

The blonde gives his hand a reassuring squeeze then steps out into the chill of the night.

He makes his way past their campfire towards their packs where he finds the old cloth that he had in mind. He cleans his face quickly with it before grabbing a fresh one for Zoro. He spins to return to their shared tent but comes to a halt when he feels a tingle at the back of his neck.

His observation haki kicked in but he wasn’t fast enough, only just managing to raise his arms just in time to stop sharp strings wrap around his neck. They coil around his wrists, binding them.

Sanji

ZO–!

A hand from behind covers his mouth and he disappears from the campsite in an instant, leaving a small trail of leaves twisting upwards.

Sanji didn’t return to their tent that night. No sounds can be heard but the crackling of fire.

----------

There are no visible scars on Sanji's body in the concept art as I wanted to focus on the overall shapes of the outfit designs. I haven't picked a variant to go with yet but maybe I'll have something ready by next chapter!

[redo-rewind-if]

You're dead. Or, at least, you should be. You remember what it felt when the bullet pierced your chest, the blood rushing out too fast, too much to stop. The man in red smirking above you. And yet, here you are. Alive. Safe in bed. One week before the day of your death.

Redo; Rewind is a story about time. Of an ordinary person working an ordinary office job. Sure, you might work for an info broker and, sure, you sometimes (often) commit acts of corporate espionage for said job, but that's just business.

This is something far beyond that ordinary life.

Time travel. It seems you of all people are capable of it. To manipulate time and bend it to your will. It may not be something you asked for, but you need it now more than ever.

Someone wants you dead. And they've already succeeded once. You can't allow it to happen again.

(Please note that Redo; Rewind is currently rated 18+ for depictions of violence/death, references to drug and alcohol use, explicit language, and heavy themes.)

Play as a customizable MC! Choose your MC’s appearance, gender, skills, and more!

Romance, befriend, or antagonize any of the 3 romance options.

Learn how to master your time control ability and use it to your advantage.

Avoid past mistakes and inadvertently come up with new, much worse ones!

Try not to die. Again. And again. And again...

Victor/Victoria Zhang [M/F] - Your boss and owner of VZSystems, the front for their true work as an info broker. Clever, professional, and cold—a classic business major. That's how they appear, anyway. Having worked for them for sometime now, you know that, despite their intimidating appearance, they hide a much softer side underneath. Will you maintain the status quo as employer and employee, or will you cross the boundary set by your positions?

August Astaire [M] - Hitman, assassin, whatever you want to call him, the man's a killer. That much is clear after he put a bullet through your chest. But is that all there is to him? As arrogant and cruel as he seems, you can't help but wonder if there isn't more to him than meets the eye. Maybe if you play your cards right you could even turn an enemy into an ally. But, even if he plays for your team, how much can you really trust him?

Amara Ingram [F] - Your coworker of about two months now. You don't know her well yet, but she seems genuinely kind, with a good sense of humor and a sharp mind. Since being hired, she's quickly earned her place, proving to be an invaluable asset with her skill in engineering and programing. Undoubtedly, someone you're glad is on your side, but could your feelings for her extend beyond the professional?

[Demo] - Available Here! (Last update: March 15th 2025)

[ROs] - Additional Details Here!

[stardi]

𝟎𝟎𝟏, PLAYING CUPID

pairing! anakin skywalker x fem!reader

synopsis! r2-d2 can't stand seeing anakin and you fight, so he decides to play his favorite game: being cupid!

warnings! verbal fight, fluff, artoo being such a cutie little droid :c

word count! 4.6k

note! this is the longest shit i've ever written in my whole life 😨 IT'S ALSO INSPIRED BY A DREAM I HAD WITH ANAKIN HEHEHHEHE so it's special, i hope you like it as much as i do <33.

my mother tongue is spanish, so i ask for your patience and a lot of kindness in case you want to make an observation about my narration, grammar or spelling. thank you!

© stardi - all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or modify without permission and credits!

The time had long surpassed the stroke of midnight, yet fate had conspired to hold you, Anakin and R2-D2 captive in the war room, surrounded by maps and holographic projections of the enemy's forces. As one of the highest-ranking Generals, the weighty responsibility had fallen upon you and Anakin to devise a strategic plan, one that would orchestrate the downfall of a fortified Separatist stronghold nestled upon a remote planet.

Your eyes felt heavy, your head pounded, and every inch of your body was begging for some rest. All you yearned for was respite, a sanctuary within the confines of your bunk, where you could surrender to slumber's embrace for an entire week. Looking over at Anakin, you could tell that he wasn't feeling any different from you, his body language betraying his exhaustion, letting you know that you weren't alone in your misery. You couldn't help but wonder how much longer you and your best friend could keep going like this.

You hated war.

It was a brutal business, and you hated every moment of it. Its destructive nature, the lives it claimed, the endless planning and executing was taking its toll on you.

Yet, you soldiered on, fueled by the hope that your efforts would make a difference.

With bleary eyes, you rubbed at the fatigue-induced haze, striving to maintain focus amidst the flickering glow emanating from the tactical map. In that moment, Anakin turned to you. A adorable yawn, one he tried to suppress but failed, escaped his lips with a slight suspire. It was a stark contrast to his imposing figure; strong, broad, and towering. It was in these small, vulnerable moments that his true essence shone through, captivating your soul like nothing else.

You wondered if he knew how cute he looked when he was tired, or how every little gesture of his was beautiful in its own way.

"I think we should launch a frontal assault," suddenly, his confident and resolute voice broke through your thoughts about him. His index finger moved at a specific area and your gaze followed his hand. An undeniable knot of worry coiled in the pit of your stomach. The location he had singled out was no ordinary point on the map; it was a fortified entrance, a bastion of enemy resistance that had withstood countless assaults. "We'll hit them hard and fast, overwhelm their defenses, and take the base in a matter of hours."

"That's a risky move," you interjected, unsure about the feasibility of his plan. His illogical proposal took your sleep away in less than a second. "The Separatists have had time to fortify their position and they'll be expecting us. We could lose a lot of men if we charge in blindly."

"We're Jedi, not cowards. We can handle whatever they throw at us."

"But what if they have some kind of surprise waiting for us?" you countered, your own frustration growing as you watched Anakin's tired eyes roll in exasperation at your objections. His pretty, oh, so pretty eyes. "A trap? A minefield? A hidden weapon? We need to approach this mission with caution."

The General let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his brows furrowing deeply in annoyance. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a clear demonstration of displeasure. The weariness in his eyes was overshadowed by an unmistakable expression of disdain as he peered at you, a seemingly conviction that you, in that moment, were the dumbest living form in the entire vastness of the galaxy.

"Caution?" he exclaimed, the word escaping his lips like a bitter scoff. "We need to seize the initiative and strike while the iron is hot. Our troops are ready, and the time is right."

Exhaustion was mounting, and you could feel a dull ache pulsing through your temples. Instinctively, you rubbed your forehead in a futile attempt to alleviate the fatigue that threatened to cloud your judgment. A silent plea to the gods or the Force itself crossed your mind, a pray to grant you the patience and wisdom necessary to navigate the turbulent sea of Anakin's unwavering determination.

He's so stubborn.

It was legendary, he could be as immovable as a mountain. His obstinacy resembled a deep-rooted tree, firmly entrenched in his convictions, rendering it nearly impossible to sway or alter. You had long known this about the man you loved the most, and you were aware of how difficult it could be to change his mind once he was set on something. This quality of his, simultaneously admirable and frustrating, had been witnessed by everyone on numerous occasions.

And now it was putting the mission at risk.

A pang of guilt struck you as you thought back on the many times you had given in to his plans or ideas to avoid a conflict that wears out your mind and heart. You knew deep down that it wasn't worth it, that sometimes it was easier to concede than to argue. But today, now, this case was different. This time, the stakes were higher, you couldn't let him put your troops in unnecessary danger just because you wanted to avoid an argument. Your decisions could make or break the success of the mission.

"I'm not saying we should be cowards, Anakin. I'm saying we should be smart. We need to think about the bigger picture here," you stated calmly, trying to reason with him, leaning forward in your seat to trace your finger along the terrain as you spoke. "We can send in a smaller team to gather intel. Then, based on what they find, we can make the best decision about how to proceed. We need to minimize our losses and maximize our chances of success."

Anakin's intense gaze held yours, and you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely considering your suggestion. His eyes seemed to search yours for a moment, as if weighing the options and possibilities. But, as quickly as that flicker of possibility had arisen, it was snuffed out by the curve of his lips, which seemed to twist into a disapproving sneer.

"I appreciate your input, Y/N," he replied, polite but tinged with a dismissive tone. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he caused a few strands to fall gracefully back into place. That gesture would have normally made your heart flutter, however, the gravity of the situation kept you firmly grounded. "But I know what needs to be done. We're going with my plan," he concluded like a definitive statement, standing up from his seat with a data-pad in his hands, approaching the droid that was holding other maps for you. "R2, come here. Help me with something."

Unacceptable.

You sat there for a moment, stunned and speechless, trying to process what had just happened. Had he truly made the final call without giving a second thought to your perspective? Just like that? Was he so convinced of his own rightness that he was willing to dismiss your opinions entirely? The audacity! The heat of your rage begin to rise in your chest as you watched him compare maps with the droid without any worry or disturb at his behavior. How dare he? You wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought of him and his I'm-always-right attitude. But at the same time, you knew that wouldn't solve anything.

Summoning all your willpower, you took a deep breath, clenching your teeth with fervor and mentally counted to ten, harnessing your emotions as you rose from your seat walked purposefully toward him.

You closed the distance, your gaze weighed heavily upon the back of his neck. It pierced through his consciousness, momentarily causing a flicker of confusion to ripple across his features, drawing his attention to your presence. However, after a fleeting moment of acknowledgment, he redirected his focus back to the droid, continuing with his task, seemingly dismissing the impact of your unspoken message.

"You're not even willing to consider other options?" you questioned. The words hung in the air, suspended between you and Anakin. Yet, he stood unmoved. "You're just going to charge in blindly and hope for the best?"

"It's not blind," Anakin emitted a chuckle, dripping with sarcasm. He didn't even bother to face you, his voice carrying a hint of condescension. "It's a calculated risk."

"Anakin, we're supposed to be a team," you crossed your arms, your voice firm but tinged with a touch of pleading. "We should be working together on this."

"I am working with you. I just don't agree with your strategy," his annoyance was palpable as he finally set aside his data-pad, pivoting his well-built frame to face you, his gaze piercing with impatience. "You're too cautious, too hesitant. Your plan will only hold us back. I know what I'm doing."

A slap in the face. That's how it felt. You had always been willing to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good, but you knew that there was a difference between bravery and foolishness, a thin line you weren't willing to cross. Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to have a hard time distinguishing between the two.

"I'm holding us back?" you shot, incredulous. You didn't notice the way your voice was slowly rising. "You're the one who's being reckless and impulsive. As always," Anakin's narrowed eyes burned with indignant fury, his initial annoyance transforming into a smoldering anger that threatened to consume the room. You knew that your words had struck a nerve, even though they held a semblance of truth.

As the tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unyielding wills, R2-D2 beeped urgently, his mechanical voice punctuating the air seeking to intervene. The astromech droid, more than just a resourceful companion, was a friend, his loyalty extended beyond mere service; he cared deeply for both of you, aware of the underlying, unspoken feelings that bound you together. Every subtle interaction was etched into his memory circuits, everything. From the stolen glances and telltale blushes provoked by compliments, from the extended hugs that lingered longer than necessary after arduous missions and the occasional brushes of hands. He longed for nothing more than to see you both happy and united, free from the burdens of conflict.

And he was determined to fulfill his longing, he was going to put an end to the argument, and maybe take advantage of the situation a little. A mischievous thought flitted through his mechanical mind: Did the two of you know about his favorite game?

"Not now, R2," Anakin snapped, caught up in the heat of the moment, waving the droid away. "I am the problem now? You're the one who's being selfish, thinking only of your own safety and not the mission at hand."

"That's not true. I care about the mission, and I care about our troops. I just don't want to see them die needlessly because of a hasty decision," a mocking and arrogant smile stretched across his face.

"You don't have the guts to make the tough calls, do you?"

The way you gasped.

Even R2 seemed taken aback, emitting an surprised beep that mirrored the incredulity you felt. For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, your jaw hanging open in a mix of astonishment and anger. Then, your throat let out a bubbling laughter of disbelief.

"Oh, you don't want to do this," you managed to choke, a sense of warning in your laughs. Anakin's expression shifted, his defiance growing even stronger as he raised his chin, a challenging sparkle in his eyes. His audacious stance seemed to say that he was ready to engage in this verbal duel, if you weren't fighting already, unafraid of the consequences. It was a side of him you had seen before. That stubborn, headstrong Jedi Knight loved pushing boundaries.

"Maybe I do."

Fearing the situation could deteriorate further, R2-D2 acted with a subtle nudge against Anakin's legs, a gentle insistence in his movements as he sought to capture the Jedi's attention, his beeps growing more insistent. Anakin, vexed by the interruption, cast a frustrated glance downward, emitting a groan of annoyance in response.

"R2! Can't you see we are talking? Wait a minute," he scolded.

"No, this is not a talk," you shocked your head angrily. Even as you felt your frustration rising, you feel a twinge of gratitude towards R2 for his attempts to defuse the situation.

"You started this," he accused. "You're always looking for an easy way out, a safe option. But that's not how wars are won. Sometimes you have to take risks, make sacrifices, and do what needs to be done."

"You think I was born yesterday? I perfectly know that. But I'm also not willing to throw away lives for the sake of a bold move," you gritted your teeth, unable to hold your tongue any longer. "If you can't see that, then maybe you're not the leader I thought you were."

Anakin's gaze met yours, and within his eyes, a flicker of surprise mingled with a tinge of remorse, shattering the facade of his unwavering confidence. You knew that your outburst had caught him off guard, but you also knew that it was necessary. You had stood up for yourself and demanded to be heard, and you were not going to allow anyone to dismiss your contributions again.

"What?" he spat, low and dangerous. You stood your ground, refusing to back down.

"You heard me."

"You're questioning my leadership now?"

"I'm questioning your judgment," you declared. "And I won't stand by and let you put our troops in unnecessary danger. I'm not being coward, I'm just following the Jedi Code. You should try it sometime."

Before Anakin could formulate a response, a sudden force propelled him forward, jostling him from behind. R2-D2 had maneuvered into position, pushing Anakin until he stood mere inches from you, nose-to-nose. The unexpected proximity caused Anakin to stumble, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips and a flush of pink embarrassment danced across his cheeks. The notion of an almost-kiss left him and you momentarily breathless, his eyes evading your gaze as they instead fell upon his mechanical confidant. The droid's incessant beeping were playful now, and lively tiny jumps from side to side seemed to exude an air of amusement.

"Hey, watch it, you little scrap pile!" Anakin scolded the droid, his tone tinged with shame. The close proximity had nearly led to a secretly wanted but inadvertent intimacy. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't talk to him like that!" you chastised him. R2 had been trying to diffuse the situation, to ease the tension that had been building between you and Anakin. He just wanted to help.

Or at least that's what you thought.

"He's pushing me!"

"He's trying to say something!"

"No! He's just being annoying, just like you!"

"Annoying?! Anakin!"

"What?! Nothing of this would have happened if you have just agreed with my plan in first place!" R2-D2 persisted in his efforts, he pushed Anakin from behind once again, yet this time the Jedi anticipated the droid's intentions, bracing himself against the opposing force. Turning his gaze toward his diminutive companion, his expression hardened with resolve. "R2, I swear to the Force, I am going to deactivate you if you don't stop this!"

"I did it because you're being arrogant and stubborn! You think you're better than everyone else, but you're not!"

"Oh! Yeah?!"

"Yeah! You're just a hothead who can't see past his own ego!"

"Don't you dare talk to me about ego!" he yelled back, his voice dripping with venom. "You're the one who can't stand not being in control! You're so afraid of failure that you're willing to sacrifice our chances of success just to cover your own ass!"

Despite Anakin's threats, R2-D2 remained undeterred in his mischievous intervention. With an assertive nudge, the droid propelled Anakin forward once again, causing him to lose his balance and cascade towards you. In a split second, Anakin's reflexes kicked in, his hands reaching out instinctively to catch you, his muscular and warm arms enveloping you protectively. With an agile twist of his body, he positioned himself in such a way that he took the brunt of the fall, ensuring your safety as you both tumbled to the ground.

With your head pressed against his chest, the rhythm of Anakin's rapid heartbeat reverberated in your ears, its intensity mirroring the emotions exploding within him, evident in the way his grip tightened around you even after the fall. In the midst of the unexpected entanglement of limbs and bodies, you found yourselves drawn together in a way that surpassed the boundaries of mere friendship. There was a tenderness to the way your bodies intertwined, as if they were seeking solace and connection by themselves.

You two were close. So close.

The proximity allowed you to intimately perceive the essence of his physical presence, catching the distinct scent of his masculinity that lingered in the air. It was an alluring fragrance, an intoxicating essence that elicited a subtle flush of color upon your cheeks, betraying the effect he had on you.

Looking up into Anakin's eyes, you saw a mixture of concern and anger, his gaze fixed on you as he assessed your well-being. His cheeks flushed with a shade of crimson that only heightened his attractiveness, intensifying your own blush. Yet his focus remained on your safety. Only after confirming that you were unharmed, he shifted his attention to the mischievous droid, his features contorted with frustration and irritation.

"You— Stupid droid!"

"R2," you whispered shyly, a hint of complaint in your voice as you attempted to extricate yourself from Anakin's anatomy. However, as you made your initial move to stand up, an unexpected force pulled you down, causing you to crash back onto his chest. With a perplexed glance downwards, you discovered that both of your zip belts had become entangled, linking your bodies together in a awkward predicament.

You tried to suppress a nervous laugh, but it escaped you, and Anakin joined in. Fingers fumbled and intertwined, attempting to untangle the fabric that held you captive, but the more you struggled, the tighter the clip seemed to become. You could feel his muscles tense under your weight, and you were sure he could feel your trembling hands.

"I-I— Let me—"

"No, stay still. Let's— U-Uh—"

"No— Look, I can— E-Em—"

Just when you thought the moment couldn't become any more mortifying, R2-D2 intervened with a sudden burst of loud beeps, followed by the unmistakable melody of a romantic tune, causing both you and Anakin to freeze. The notes of the music filled the room, creating a whimsical backdrop that seemed to amplify the fluttering shared between you and Anakin. Eyes widening in surprise, you turned to look at Anakin, his expression reflecting a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and a desire to vanish from sight.

"What the- R2, stop that!" Anakin's voice rang out, filled with flustered exasperation. The poor guy looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Stop it! N-Now!"

But R2-D2 seemed impervious to Anakin's distress, emitting an innocent beep while unabashedly continuing to serenade you both with melody, pleased with the romantic atmosphere he had created.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you burst into laughter, escaping in a series of happy chuckles that echoed through the room as you watched R2 dancing with the music. Amidst your amusement, you glanced at Anakin, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you sought an explanation.

"What is he doing?" you asked, the giggles still in your voice, your innocent curiosity blending seamlessly with the light-hearted mirth that sparkled in your eyes.

"I-I don't know!" his attempt at feigning ignorance crumbling as a genuine warmth began to radiate in his eyes. Deep down, he couldn't deny that R2-D2's intervention seemed too intentional to be mere chance. Anakin knew that the droid was aware of his hidden affections for you. "I- I swear, I don't know what's got into him. Maybe he's malfunctioning or s-something," Anakin's stammered words failed to conceal the knowing glimmer in his eyes, hinting at a secret he was not yet ready to reveal.

"It's funny," you confessed, a soft smile adorning your lips as your laughter subsided. "Are... you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he repeated, genuine surprise mingling with tenderness in his voice. He paused in his attempts to untangle the belts, his gaze locked with yours. "I am not the one who almost got crushed. Are you okay?"

"But you got crushed! What are you talking about?" you playfully retorted, your laughter mingling with the harmonious melody surrounding you. With a gentle tilt of your head, you regarded him, your smile radiating warmth. "I'm okay," you assured him.

For a suspended moment, the room transformed into a sanctuary of shared vulnerability. As your gaze remained in his, an rare language flowed between you, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended words. In that silent exchange, you detected a subtle shift in Anakin, a softness that belied his earlier brashness. His eyes held a tender gleam, and his touch carried a gentleness you hadn't witnessed until now. Could it be that he felt the same way about you that you did about him? Somehow?

"I'm sorry," his voice murmured, the words almost lost amidst the tender notes of the music. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just under a lot of pressure. We both are."

"I know, Ani, I know," you nodded, your voice filled with sincerity and compassion. "I'm sorry, too. I also didn't mean to insult you."

R2 emitted a contented series of beeps, seemingly delighted with the outcome of his meddling. Sensing the need for privacy, the droid swiftly departed, leaving the two of you alone. Anakin's brow furrowed in confusion, his attention momentarily diverted by the departing droid.

"Hey! Hey! Where are you going?!" he called out, a trace of annoyance lingering in his voice. Evidently, the source of the current situation was still fresh in his mind. "Come back here!"

And in that instant, you knew it was now or never.

When would an opportunity like this present itself again? When would your hearts be so unguarded, the connection so palpable? The urgency within you propelled you forward, overriding any fears or doubts. You realized that regardless of his response, you had to seize the moment, to convey your feelings through a single, fleeting act.

Unburdened by the need for reciprocation, overriding any fears of rejection or potential consequences, before Anakin managed to separate your belts, you leaned in impulsively and pressed a loving kiss upon his cheek.

His impulsivity can be contagious, you had discovered, and the galaxy reduced to the electrifying touch of your lips against his skin.

Though the contact had been briet, you sensed his unconscious inclination, the way he instinctively leaned his cheek closer to your lips as if seeking a lingering connection. As you gingerly pulled away to witness his reaction, you almost screamed like a schoolgirl caught in the throes of a blossoming romance.

There he was.

His face, already flushed from earlier events, now sported a hue even deeper pink, near to red. His cheeks seemed to puff up slightly, a result of the endearing and slightly bewildered smile he struggled to conceal. His eyes blinked, almost in slow motion, as if he had just awakened from the most enchanting dream imaginable.

And it was only because you kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" he managed to utter, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if grappling to find words to articulate his whirlwind of emotions.

"Just because."

That was all he needed to hear.

Anakin's hands gently cradled your face, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. You felt a rush of warmth spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your being, his thumbs caressed your skin tenderly as he drew you closer, closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your mouths met, time seemed to stand still. The world around faded away, leaving only the soft press of his lips against yours. It was a sweet sensation, filled with a blend of longing, desire, and a hint of uncertainty, as if he wanted to convey all his feelings through this single form of love.

As you melted into the kiss, surrendering to the magic of the moment, you could feel Anakin's grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. It was a gesture of both longing and possessiveness, a silent declaration of the emotions that had been building between you for so long, a confirmation that he was here, in this moment, fully present and committed to the love that bloomed between you.

It was better than you imagined. It was much better than he had imagined. It was just... perfect. Right. True.

But as with all things, the kiss eventually came to an end. Reluctantly, you and Anakin parted, breathless and dizzy, with lips tingling, both gasping for air.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice filled with awe. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I shouldn't have done that, either," you whispered. His eyes searched yours, seeking a hint of regret, remorse. But he didn t find it. Instead, he felt a pull towards you, a desire for more.

Anakin's stared at you, a silent beg in his eyelids for permission. Driven by an insatiable longing, you leaned in once again, your lips seeking his with urgency and surrender. Time seemed to stand still as your souls intertwined, and just as the kiss was taking the path you wanted, you remembered how it was that you ended up in this precise moment.

The mission.

You kindly pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, your foreheads gently met. The world slowly seeped back into focus, but the imprint of that stolen kiss remained etched upon your very being.

"We should get back to planning," you said, trying to sound practical and composed. Anakin let out a childish complaint, his touch lingering on your cheek for a short moment before reluctantly withdrawing.

"Yeah, we should," he sighed. As much as he wanted to continue kissing you, he knew that you had a mission to focus on. "I'll give you this one. We'll send in a small team to gather intel tomorrow. But I'm telling you, we're going to need to be aggressive if we want to win this."

"Aggressive, yes. Reckless, no."

Anakin's expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. You offered a warm smile in response, wanting to rise from your position on the ground. But before you could, you were pushed back down by the entangled belts, causing your body to collide once again with Anakin's chest. You groaned in frustration, feeling a bit embarrassed for forgetting about the belts in the heat of the moment. Anakin, however, laughed heartily at your clumsy attempt and pulled you close to him, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around you.

"I don't think I mind being stuck like this for a little longer."

꒰°˖ ✧ any spelling mistakes will be corrected soon !ㅤׄ  ₊ ᵎᵎ 

✃ graphics made by: me

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ

━━M𝓐STERLIST !

[22ayla21]

Hello!! Congratulations on 1000 followers!! For the event can I have Idia Shroud with Vanilla Ice Cream with Caramel and Strong Espresso??? Please and thank you 💙

"Vanilla Ice Cream with Caramel and Strong Espresso"

Event: "Sweet Stories, Intoxicating Feelings"

S.T.Y.X was a place where dreams took on nightmarish shapes, and love seemed impossible. In this labyrinth of steel walls, humming laboratories, reports with alarming red "CRITICAL CONDITION" markings, and inexplicable magical phenomena, the very thought of something tender and human seemed absurd. Especially in the heart of Idia Shroud, a person who mostly preferred the flicker of screens to live interaction and looked at his reflection warily, as if expecting betrayal from it.

But she appeared not as a dazzling flash, but as a weightless touch on the glass behind which Idia sheltered from reality. She didn't pull him out, no. She was simply there. As if saying without words, "You can stay in your refuge for as long as you want. I'll still be here."

He didn't notice her right away. Not out of unwillingness – more out of an inner fear. In S.T.Y.X, every day followed a strict routine: waking up, checking monitors, updating Overblot logs, an obligatory joke in an internal code language understandable only to him… and Ortho. And then – night again, loneliness again, screens again, from which his eyes grew tired, and his heart remained strangely indifferent.

She burst into his usual rhythm as unexpectedly and pleasantly as a drop of caramel accidentally falling into his morning cup of strong black coffee. He was used to bitterness, to invigorating solitude, to the fact that everything should be clear, efficient, concise. And she… she was like vanilla ice cream on a hot day. Simple. Sincere. Like a long-forgotten feeling of summer.

"You know, your work is important, but you yourself are more important," she said one day, finding him working when he had completely forgotten about food, immersed in lines of code and magical algorithms.

He blinked, not immediately understanding how to react to such a simple truth. In his world, everything was clearly delineated. But she didn't demand. Didn't insist. Just handed him an ice cream – vanilla, with caramel drizzle.

"You're like espresso. Dark, strong, and incredibly invigorating," she added, smiling. "But you could use a little sweetness. Or someone to add that sweetness."

From that day on, he began to listen for her footsteps. To catch the quiet hum when she worked at the neighboring terminal. To notice how her hair played in the light of holograms, how quickly her fingers ran across the keys, typing reports, how she sometimes looked thoughtfully into the void, and then he desperately wanted to know what she saw there.

They didn't talk about feelings right away. It seemed too… open. Idia was afraid of words, felt defenseless in ordinary conversation. But he started communicating with her more than with anyone else. First through messages, then – in person, but separated by a wall, then – face to face. Over a cup of coffee. Over a serving of ice cream.

Love turned out to be quiet. It didn't shatter walls, didn't tear his heart to pieces. It was like that ice cream – classic vanilla, understandable, familiar, but with that very caramel note that made every day special. Sometimes it invigorated, like a strong espresso, suddenly pushing forward: in work, in emotions, in confessions.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked softly one day, when he stumbled, not knowing how to express what she meant to him.

He looked down. Not because he didn't want to answer – it was just that his heart was beating so hard, as if it was about to explode.

"No… I'm afraid that you'll leave when you realize how… broken I am."

She smiled and touched his hand with her palm.

"Even the most bugged code can be debugged. The main thing is not to be afraid to do it together."

Then he laughed. Sincerely, almost to tears. And for the first time, he didn't want to hide. He wanted to stay – with her, in this strange place, where even among scientific reports and classifications of magical disasters, something simple was born. Something real.

Love. Like vanilla with caramel. Like espresso with the tart aroma of passion. Like the life he used to be afraid of.

Now he lived in it. With her. And no longer hid.