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#everyone’s life’s are equally in the hands of idiots
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Astarion Jealousy Part 2
The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.
CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers
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It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 
He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.
Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 
All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 
But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 
It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 
On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.
He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”
Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 
Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”
Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 
“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”
“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”
He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 
“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”
“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”
His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”
It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."
“But-”
“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”
Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 
He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”
“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”
You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 
Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 
“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”
You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 
And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 
You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.
He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 
He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”
He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 
You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”
“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”
You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.
It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 
Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.
He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.
He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.
You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.
You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 
He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"
A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.
“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 
"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.
Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 
You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”
Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?
Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."
You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”
But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."
You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”
Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”
It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 
But what about your lives were normal?
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starchaserwrites · 2 months
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@jegulus-microfic / february 6: murder / word count: 692 cw: consensual violence(?)
Regulus is having the shittiest day of his life. He started the day with a very detailed text from his lovely mother, reminding him of how much of a disappointment he is for dropping out of college to open a bar with his equally disappointing brother. Later, there was a mistake with the vodka delivery (it was not their usual brand), so he and Sirius had to make some awkward phone calls as the distributor refused to change it. Also, almost too late, they realised that all the ice in stock had melted during the night due to a power cut they weren't aware of, so he and Remus had to rush out to get more. The cherry on top was that the guy he was kind of seeing (mostly to fuck, if he's being honest) decided to get back with his ex, and the thing is, Regulus isn't angry or sad about it, because he saw it coming, but it adds up to the whole situation.
"You look like you're about to murder someone with that knife."
And now James Potter is here.
Everyone knows that if Regulus takes it upon himself to cut the limes, it is because he is at his limit and it is best to stay away. Everyone except James, who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.
"Are you volunteering?" he says without stopping what he is doing.
"Maybe I am. I'm sorry about Daniel, Sirius told me what happened."
"You know his name is Michael, James."
"Yeah, whatever. So what do you say if I help you blow off some steam?" he asks, leaning over the top of the bar.
Listen, Regulus knows he doesn't mean it like that, but he can't help but think of the older man in exactly that way. Blame it on the crush he has had on his brother's best friend for several years. So he just raises an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." James says after a moment. Is he smirking?
"Then what?"
"Have you ever heard of hurricane shots?"
"Of course, they ask Marlene and Dorcas for them all the time," he replies as he bends down to pick up some empty bottles. It's not rush hour yet, but it's important to get everything ready before then.
"Great, may I have one?"
"Sure, let me call Dorc-"
"From you. May I have one from you?" Regulus bumps his head on the counter as he stands up. James' idea to help him relax is going to give him a stroke.
"Sure." It's the only thing he says before the other man can say anything and he starts gathering what he needs for the shot. "Is vodka okay for your shot?" James just nods, but he can feel his eyes lingering as he pours the alcohol and the glass of water.
Regulus has never done this before but he knows the procedure, he sets everything down on the bartop and shortly afterwards he sits down on the edge of it, opening his legs to let James stand between them. His heart is racing but he looks up to remove the man's glasses (it would be a tragedy if they got ruined) and leaves them beside him. He hands the shot to his victim and rings the small bell they have for this purpose.
"Don't hold back." James says with that grin again as he places a hand on Regulus' thigh and promptly takes the shot, looking him in the eye. Oh, he hates him so much.
Regulus splashes him with the water and then slaps him.
He slaps him. Hard.
James shakes his head and runs a hand over his face to remove the water and his own hair from his forehead, then looks at him with an expression that can only be described as pure devotion, and Regulus knows it.
They kiss. Hard. In a way that only two idiots who have spent years pining for each other can do.
Cheers and shouts from the people in the bar. In the background, Sirius hands Remus some money.
"I knew it would work." Remus says.
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jaylver · 6 months
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YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW
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synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.
pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff
warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx
wc: 3445
a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
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You were down bad. 
That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.
Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him. 
Yang Jungwon. 
He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton. 
To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him. 
High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole. 
You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.
There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer. 
“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry. 
“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face. 
Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.
Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”
Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.
Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair. 
It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.
You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.
‘You okay?’
His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago. 
It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.
‘Tired of drama.’
You then wrote your reply.
‘Sorry :(’ 
He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.
‘I like—’
You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.
Well, there goes another chance.
It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.
But you weren’t the only one. 
Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.
If only you knew.
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Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was. 
You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.
“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.
“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.
“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”
Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.
He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life. 
It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that. 
Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?
As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping. 
Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?
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It was one of the most important times in the school calendar. 
No, not exams. The national basketball competition. 
You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.
The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.
On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument. 
“Jungwon?”
“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”
“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”
“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”
“I’ll consider it,”
“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”
How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever? 
His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.
The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What? 
Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.
Oh no.
Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.
‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.
He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,
‘I think I am? Whatever :/’
‘I’m here if you need to talk.’
‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’
‘I know’
He laughed at your response, but you continued on.
‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’
‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’
You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look. 
‘Fine >:(’
‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’
You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.
Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?
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Prom, the day you dreaded. 
You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.
It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.
Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—
Too late.
Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.
'You look great!'
He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.
'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'
You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision. 
Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon. 
'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'
He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.
'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'
Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour. 
Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?
Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.
Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a  short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.
Jungwon realised he liked you. 
He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?
His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.
Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel. 
Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.
"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you. 
"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.
"You … wanted to see me?"
"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"
"Okay?" 
"I like you," 
He likes … you?
Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said? 
"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"
Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.
"Y/N?"
You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"
Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.
"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”
“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”
Where did that come from?
Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”
“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you. 
You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.
It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. 
You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.
Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.
Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole. 
“Can I take you home?”
“Of course you can.”
That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.
“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely. 
“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”
“It’s no biggie,” 
You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”
“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”
“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”
“Me too.”
Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly,  Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t. 
Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.
‘Be mine?’
This guy …
You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face. 
‘Yes!! Duh!!’
He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.
You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.
Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.
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( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
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“Is this truly our prodigal son?” - meta ramblings about Astarion and Cazador and breaking vicious cycles
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“I didn’t have a choice… but it seems now I do.” Astarion is indeed the prodigal son in the sense that he has to return to his home in order to find himself and his purpose. 
For at least half the game, he is - at least outwardly - what he has been made to be. A pretty facade to be consumed. In the mirror he doesn’t see himself, he remembers nothing of his past, he can’t even read the words etched into his own back - he is, in all aspects, unwritten, unmade until he starts walking back into his own life. Reclaiming it. Or rather - remaking it. Because there is nothing sustainable there to reclaim, his heritage from Cazador contains nothing but death and violence. And power built on those two ingredients. Even when he claims that’s what he wants - power, walking in the sun, to never be afraid of anyone again, you can hear how hollow the desire is. Isn’t this what you want for me? he asks Tav, equal parts manipulation and the fact that he probably has no idea whatsoever how to figure out if he wants something like that for himself. He’s never had the luxury of choice. Shouldn’t I want this? When Tav later says that considering slaughter of seven thousand spawns isn’t who Astarion truly is he doesn’t even say she’s wrong, he replies: IT SHOULD BE.
“If I can’t have my freedom, then neither can they.”
Astarion is also, to use the same religious myth, the son who remained behind and keeps count. He counts the injustices done to him, he compares, he gathers bitterness and lust for revenge over two hundred years. Nobody ever did anything to help him. Nobody came to his rescue - he even says so himself early in the game that no hero saved him, it was the mindflayers who did. He admits to Gale that he’s prayed to all deities - but no one answered. When Tav prods about the countless of spawn he’ll sacrifice for his own ritual he brings up the same argument - what about what he’s owed? Everything was taken from him, too!
“You’d almost feel sorry for the poor, deluded souls. But they’re idiots who brought this on themselves, so… don’t.” 
Astarion doesn’t want to identify with the victims because then he has to identify as a victim. (Or even worse, someone who willingly accepted the offer of a vampire, aka idiot who brought this on himself.) And no matter how much he talks about what Cazador put him through, he’s not ready to do that, not fully. Instead he pushes them further away from himself, especially as his guilt and pain and self-loathing gets poured into preparing for the Ascension. That one thing that will finally separate him from everyone else, make him safe and untouchable. The others, the victims, they’re weak, pathetic, nothing like him at all, they’re too far gone, they’re different, they couldn’t survive out there so it’s better he kills them so they serve a purpose. It’s not exactly subtext, either, Tav can outright ask him if he really intends to kill them just because they remind him of himself and his voice breaks when he answers that. “They do not. That weakness inside me is dead. It’s dead. I have a higher purpose.” He comes a little bit closer to breaking out of his cycle with the Gur children, they happened not that long ago, he’s visibly moved by the fact that he had forgotten them and felt nothing when he delivered them and when Tav asks about his feelings on the subject, he admits: “I just… I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.”
But it takes the encounter with Cazador to truly break out of the pattern.
“Did I not make you who you are?” “Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?” he snaps at Astarion when you first enter his ritual. And when the camera pans to Astarion, so full of rage and fully intent on killing Cazador with his bare hands if he has to, we see that he actually does slouch. He’s that boy again.
He’s returned, the boy who caused so much trouble, who screamed the sweetest when he was tortured, who was thrown into a tomb for a year for refusing his order and who eventually stopped fighting back. Godey says: “You always were sharp, little one. Sharp enough to cut yourself.” The boy who Cazador tried to make something of, but to no avail. He was incorrigible. “I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…” All abuse aside, Cazador hurts Astarion in that precise way only a parental figure can hurt a child - through constant disappointment, the cruelty of not caring. The parent that only punishes, that sees nothing but faults. He even tells Astarion that he ought to be begging their forgiveness for coming crawling back after abandoning them. “Forgiveness? You’ve never forgiven anything.” / “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve ever done to me.”
“I’m so much more than what you made me,” Astarion tells Cazador when he finally has him on his knees, one last attack away from getting the revenge he’s dreamed of for two hundred years. When he asks Tav for help he - again - brings up the “isn’t this what you want?” Because even if he knows he’s more than what Cazador created him to be, he doesn’t know what that “much more” consists of yet. If you detect his thoughts at that moment you learn that he’s afraid, hungry, intoxicated. That all he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom to do anything - to be anything.
“I want you to live a life you’re proud of,” Tav pleads. “You can’t be proud of this.” Tav who sees someone else in him, a way forward that isn't steeped in Cazador's tyranny. Tav, who treats him like a person, with autonomy.
“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. The power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.” And it was this Astarion required to truly remake his life. Returning as the prodigal son to the place that was his home, where he was taught he amounted to nothing, that he was a means to an end, that the only way to ever feel safe in life is to hold power over someone else. 
That’s why I found his “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me” so powerful, because it’s it’s much more than an insult or a protest. It’s an acknowledgement that you were hurt and that you didn’t deserve it. 
And by extension here - that you’ve hurt others in turn and they didn’t deserve it, either. That perhaps you are just the same as the weak, pathetic spawn in the dungeons. That perhaps we all are. That perhaps the true power lies in daring to hope. For forgiveness, for understanding, for more people out there to have a heart like Tav’s. That you, if you’re given a chance to make choices for yourself, can make a life you can feel proud of. Even if it means you have to let others see your shame. To care again is to live again, like Tav says while they're exploring casa Cazador. And Astarion wants to feel alive.
When you can make Astarion realise he can be better than Cazador, he immediately shows  protectiveness towards the spawn, telling his siblings to lead them to the Underdark and then telling the truth to the Gur but making sure to point out that if they come hunting - they’re hunting their own children. Cazador’s been dead for a couple of minutes and Astarion is already doing a better job as some sort of wretched father figure for these poor souls. Because he's given them freedom to make their own choices, treated them as equals. Shown them the care nobody ever showed him before. That's how you break cycles and pack one hell of an emotional punch. Fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me, indeed.
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wooziorgans · 2 months
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how to kill the sun || ljh
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pairing: idol!jihoon x non idol!reader. gn!reader.
genre: nsfw! MDNI. fluff. friends to lovers.
description: jihoon comes home after work a little more drunk than he anticipated. he finds y/n on his couch waiting for his return, shining as bright as the sun in the dim lights of his living room.
warnings: fluff oh my god so many feeling. idiots in love with each other. mentions of alcohol consumption. jihoon with long hair omgomgomg. pet names (angle, baby, love, etc.).
word count: 9.5k
NSFW TAGS UNDER THE CUT.
nsfw warnings MDNI: p w a little plot. jihoon has such a big praise kink :(((. feelings during sex. penetrative sex. pussy drunk jihoon. aftercare. reader has female anatomy. soft sex. oral (both receiving). getting absolutely manhandled by this guys big ass arms. big dick jihoon amen. holding hands during sex seriously they’re so in love with each other. unprotected sex (don’t do this). hair pulling. a little choking. a hand job that lasts maybe two seconds. fingering. kind of?? possessive??? jihoon???. marriage??? kink??? implied??? idk what happened to me when I wrote this.
a/n: i tried to keep things as gn as possible but it was a little hard,,, n e ways. enjoy!!
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jihoon <3 [17:24]
the guys want to get drinks after work. i tried to tell them we have plans but they won’t listen :(
just let yourself in. i’ll be home around 7:30?
i’m really sorry that i haven’t been able to see you lately. :((
This stream of text messages came almost two hours ago. The clock was ticking down to Jihoon’s arrival. Y/N sat comfortably on his couch, watching some shitty reality show they weren’t paying much attention to. A hoodie they stole from Jihoon’s closet enveloped them loosely. It was the only thing covering their torso. An equally loose pair of shorts sat around their thighs.
The soft click of the lock resonates through the apartment. Jihoon’s home. They shift back onto the couch, getting comfortable. Some shuffling is heard as Jihoon slips off his shoes and jacket.
He slides into the kitchen, glancing into the living room. The soft drone of the television brings his attention to the figure in front of the screen. Y/N sits back on the couch, the small throw blanket covering their legs. The ottoman is already pulled up to the couch, serving as a foot rest. It matches the L sectional couch. “Hoon? You home?” They call, hearing the shuffle of Jihoon’s feet.
He hums, setting his keys on the counter before he stumbles softly over his feet on his way to the couch. “Sorry. I drank a bit more than I wanted to.” Despite the obvious alcohol in his system, his speech is still coherent. He takes a seat on the couch right next to Y/N. They shift, moving closer to him.
Jihoon rests his head against their shoulder. “Missed you,” he breathes, resting an arm around their shoulder, “a lot. So much.” Moments like these were rare with Jihoon. Despite how he normally shied away from any form of affection, when he was drunk (which was a very new experience for everyone around him) he was incredibly clingy. Especially when it came to Y/N.
“God, you really are drunk.” Y/N laughs softly, running a careful hand through his hair. “Do you still want to watch a movie? Or do you want to sleep?” His eyes flutter shut carefully.
“Jus’ wanna be with you.” He tightens his arms around them, digging his face into their neck. Y/N pets his hair and he hums. His lips fall open against the skin of Y/N’s neck. “I love you.” He breathes. It feels like a confession.
Y/N swallows sharply. Though love was very present in their friendship with Jihoon, it was always easier done than said. He never said it, and now here he was, drunk and clinging to Y/N like his life depends on it. “I love you too.” Y/N swallows, adjusting their position on the couch. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?” Jihoon just nods with a soft groan.
He falls asleep slowly, resting more of his weight onto Y/N’s shoulder. His head falls onto their chest. Y/N slides down the back of the couch, laying down. They carefully support Jihoon’s neck, making sure not to move too fast in order to let him rest. His head rests on their chest. It feels a little crushing, for many reasons; but it’s comfortable. Maybe because it’s Jihoon. Y/N closes their eyes, fixing a hand in Jihoon’s hair. They fall asleep quickly in only the dim light of the television which screen is now black, and the piercing beam of the moon.
It’s the sunlight that wakes Jihoon up. A stray beam pushing through the blinds, hitting his eyes directly. He groans softly, shifting. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s not in his bed, but instead on the couch, laying on top of Y/N. His face flushes softly at the realization but before he can pull himself away he feels them shift.
Jihoon cranes his head up to look at Y/N. The soft dust of orange light on their skin makes them glow. They look so beautiful like this, resting peacefully. A piece of hair falls in their face, and he carefully brushes it away from their face.
The hand resting on his neck moves up and tightens in his hair.
“Mm. Morning,” Y/N groans softly, running a gentle hand through his grown out hair. It’s soft, despite the product still in it from the day before. Jihoon freezes, all thoughts of moving away disappear. All he can feel is the heat of the morning sun and the warmth on his face and ears.
Their eyelashes flutter against their cheeks, and Jihoon stares with an apologetic expression, trying to pull himself away slowly. “Morning. D’you remember last night?” He asks, not totally thinking about what he’s saying.
“Yeah. Do you?” They tease, sleep still heavy in their voice. He hums. Y/N slides their hands over Jihoon’s back. “C’mere.” Y/N tugs at his shirt. He shifts over, laying more directly on Y/N. They open their eyes, looking down at him.
A tender hand slides further down his back, toying with the hem of his shirt which had been pulled up in his sleep. He freezes, a harsh chill running up his spine. The warmth on Y/N’s hands immediately spreads a wave of electricity through his body.
“Are you sure you’re not still drunk? You never let me cuddle you like this, Ji.” They laugh softly, carefully pushing their hand under the hem of his shirt. Jihoon lifts his neck, as if to say something. Instead, he closed his eyes and takes a deep breath. His chest tightens softly; his breathing gets a little more shallow.
The recollection of his drunk actions is enough to make him flush deeper. With a hand slowly sliding up his back, he loses all train of thought. He shivers again from the careful fingers grazing his skin. Y/N pulls their hand away carefully, afraid that they overstepped some kind of unspoken boundary. Jihoon’s head shoots up, suddenly insecure that his reaction made them uncomfortable.
Y/N lowers their hand back onto Jihoon’s skin. Another hot wave flashes through his body. His breath quickens even more. A soft gasp falls from his lips as Y/N curls their fingers, nails digging softly into the canyon of his spine, scratching his skin. He involuntarily arches up into their touch.
“You a little nervous baby?” Y/N laughs softly. “Don’t worry, Ji. I’ll take care of you.” They move their hands up, now resting them on his shoulder blades.
Jihoon’s breath gets shorter, his brain short circuiting. He bites his lip, suppressing a soft moan. Despite how intimate this was, he was getting into the rhythm; so much so that it was beginning to feel natural. He had never really expected something like this to happen, and he definitely never expected this from Y/N.
They gasp softly at the soft noise that doesn’t quite leave his lips. “You like that?” Y/N digs their nails into his skin a little harder.
As much as he did like the soft sting of their nails, he hated the way Y/N was able to see right through him. It was something unique to them. It was something none of his other friends has the ability to do. This was one of the reasons the two had formed an incredibly strong friendship extraordinarily fast.
God, he loved the way they were talking to him. Y/N knew just as much from the way he would look at them, somehow managing to avoid eye contact. Fuck, was he blushing? One hand slides out of his shirt, up to the back of his neck. It burrows itself into his hair again. He leans into the hand in his hair.
“Fuck, angel. Come here.” Y/N coos, pushing Jihoon’s legs open with theirs. Jihoon steadies himself with his arms, holding himself over Y/N as they hook their legs into his and pull their body down the cushions of the couch. Y/N exhales deeply once their face is in line with Jihoon’s.
Jihoon feels a weird pang of anxiety in his chest. His breath drops when Y/N’s lips get in line with his. He bites his lip once again, feeling his heart leap to his throat. Though there was no kiss, an unspoken promise hung in the air. It refracted through the sunlight, adding sparkles in its path. Or maybe it was dust.
“Do you want to kiss me Ji?” Y/N breathes against Jihoon’s lips. Moving the hand that was nestled in his hair, Y/N cups the side of his face, moving down to stroke the corner of his mouth with their thumb.
Their hands were so soft against his cheek. He swallows hard, silently hoping Y/N would just kiss him. His breath was short and his eyes didn’t have the courage to look at theirs.
“Answer me baby.” They coo, rubbing their thumb against the corner of his mouth. He parts his lips automatically. He nods suddenly, all of the touching catching up with him. They slide their finger over his bottom lip. “Use your words.” Y/N presses their finger into his lip. He swallows.
“I want to kiss you,” He breathes in a whisper. After everything, never did he quite expect to be saying these words this early in the morning. Especially not under the warm glow of the sun. He had hoped Y/N would kiss him after his drunken confession last night. Now, he was looking at their lips with his so, so close to theirs.
“How bad?” Y/N pushes their thumb against his lip, their finger softly grazes his teeth. Fuck, this was so intimate. Jihoon felt like he was going to lose it— something; anything. He needed anything more. All he could focus on was how soft their skin was and how warm their breath is against his lips. “How bad Jihoon?” They ask again, pushing their thumb between his teeth.
His arms shake, a little weaker at the action. A soft sigh falls from his lips, but it’s whiny. He tried to speak, but his throat felt so tight. He was panting; his breathing was almost erratic. He thought about how much he’s wanted to kiss them; how much he needs to. And then he’s saying it, the words falling out of his mouth so fast he doesn’t comprehend speaking them until seconds later.
“Shit. That’s my boy.” Y/N removed their thumb from his lip. It glistens in the sunlight. He whines softly, adjusting to align himself to a better angle with their lips. He finally lets himself make eye contact with Y/N. “There’s my pretty boy.” They smile at him, soft and fond.
He preens at the pet name, his whole body getting hotter. God, Jihoon had no idea his body could feel so on fire like this. He mustered up the courage to touch them. A tentative hand falls on the side of Y/N’s face. They close their eyes softly, leaning into his hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you like this.” Y/N huffs out, using their own hand to guide Jihoon’s thumb over their lips. His thumb rests on their bottom lip before he brushes it back, touching the side of their mouth which is now hung open in slight disbelief.
Y/N shudders out a breath as one leg wraps around Jihoon’s waist. “Think you can kiss me now?” Y/N asks, their breath hot on Jihoon’s lips. Their hands are back in his hair, digging into his scalp. Jihoon inhales sharply. Y/N’s hands felt like an invitation; one that Jihoon is more than eager to accept. He slowly tilts his head to the side, using his arm that was still bracing the couch to lower his body.
“You’re so pretty,” Y/N says, looking directly into his eyes, “have I ever told you that?” Jihoon immediately tucks his face into his shoulder, blushing deeply. Yes, you have called me pretty before. Jihoon thinks. Only when you’re drunk.
Y/N laughs softly. They use the hands in his hair to guide his head back to its previous position. The sound makes his heart batter against his ribcage. All he wants right now is Y/N. He’s never been so sure of anything.
“Wanna kiss you so bad, Ji.” Y/N whispers. Jihoon moans. The leg around his waist pulls him in tighter as Y/N’s hands drag his face closer by the neck. They gasp softly at the sound, back arching off the couch.
Jihoon can’t think right now. All of his senses are filled with Y/N. All he wanted right now was for their lips to come closer. The soft pang of hunger inside him was getting much stronger. He had been trying to keep himself in check, but Y/N’s words and touch were too much. They were driving him crazy. And then he decided he couldn’t wait anymore. He pulls himself closer to Y/N, head tilting slight. His lips hover over theirs and he’s so, so close. As much as he hated it, he pulled his body closer to theirs.
His lips brush against Y/N’s and he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. All of the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head, making his ears burn. Y/N stutters out a breath as they move their hands to cup his face. Finally, Jihoon lets himself give in. He tilts his head a little more, releasing his lip from his teeth and placing a soft kiss against Y/N’s lips.
His whole body burns, like he’s running a fever. He might as well be, with the way his whole body is on fire and his head is spinning so much. Y/N gasps softly and it’s just enough to put his brain into overdrive. The careful press of his lips starts to melt away as his jaw moves in sync with Y/N’s. His hand slides to their neck.
Y/N’s hands slide around his body, back to his shirt and up the bare skin of his neck. His nerves were too sensitive; the rake of their nails against his skin was too much. He’s genuinely starting to sweat, a pleasant wave of heat firing through his whole body. His lips faulter as he pushes a whine back down his throat. Jihoon can only imagine how much heat he’s radiating right now. Y/N pulls away slowly.
“You feeling a little warm?” Y/N’s lips glisten. He nods, despite suddenly feeling cold. Everything about them was getting him hot.
“Take this off then.” Y/N suggests, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, which had been pulled halfway up his back. The small action made him realize how much their hands had been on him. It fills his face with a heat that spreads through his body; one that ultimately settles back on his cheeks. He nods, using his core to hold himself over Y/N as he slips the lose shirt over his head. He throws it on the ottoman.
Y/N stares at his chest as he sits on their legs to discard the shirt. They run a hand over his chest, hooking their fingers in his necklace; they move even slower over his nipples. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me? God, you’re ripped.” They ask, hand settling on his hips with their thumbs resting on the edge of his abs. He laughs, embarrassed. His necklace refracts the sunlight.
He’s always worn a shirt when going to a pool or the beach with Y/N. He was always so respectful, choosing to wear a shirt when they were around. Now? Y/N’s kind of mad he’s been keeping this a secret for so long. From them specifically.
He sits upright on their legs for a few moments before he leans back over, using his arms to hold himself up. Y/N’s hands find their way to the sides of Jihoon’s face. The cool metal of his necklace brushes the material of Y/N’s— Jihoon’s— hoodie.
He closes his eyes letting Y/N feel him up. He gasps softly as one hand trails down the bare skin of his chest. A careful finger curls and Y/N runs their digit over the ridge of his abs. Their nail catches on the band of his black sweat pants before they move it back up to his chest. Their hand settles flat against his sternum.
Then it’s hooking softly in his necklace, pulling him back into a soft kiss. Jihoon can’t stop his hand from sliding under the hoodie that sits loosely on Y/N’s frame. It brushes their side, making them shiver into the kiss. He felt like he was melting, his own nails softly scratching down their side. Y/N gasps softly, biting Jihoon’s lip.
Their hands move on autopilot as one rests back on his neck and the other slides down his back, brushing the hem of his pants. Jihoon groans, pushing more of himself into the kiss that had unintentionally paused.
Jihoon carefully pushes his tongue past his lips. The muscle slides against Y/N’s lips, asking for permission. It’s granted as they part their lips. He slides his tongue in between their teeth, feeling the slide of their tongue against his. It’s so good. Y/N moans softly into his mouth and it sends his brain into overdrive.
He adds more force to the kiss, his hand sliding up their side under his hoodie. A small possessive streak burns through him and he feels like he might pass out. His hand caresses the skin of their stomach, feeling the inner lining of his hoodie. Oh, that’s all Y/N was wearing. Jihoon blushes hard at this; he spent the whole night laying on their chest with such a small barrier between their skin.
His eyes roll back into his head as he starts to grab at the skin, moving his hand up. His fingers dance across their ribs, before running over their chest. He settles his thumb against their nipple. The soft moan Y/N breathes into his mouth makes his hips involuntarily rut into nothing.
Y/N pushes a leg in between Jihoon’s, their hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweats. Jihoon grinds his hips again, this time against the thigh that’s now between his legs. He gasps, a small whine leaving his throat. Fuck, that was hot, Y/N thinks, hooking a finger under his waistband. “God. Please tell me you want this.” Jihoon whines. Y/N pauses, jaw hung open catching their breath.
“So bad Jihoon.” They gasp as Jihoon flicks his thumb against the soft skin of their nipple. “We have so much to talk about but right now, god, don’t stop touching me.” Jihoon leans down, placing a small kiss to their jaw. In leaning down, his crotch drags against their thigh. It’s the first bit of friction that registers in his brain. He moans, the sound muted against Y/N’s jaw. Shit, he’s so hard.
Y/N can feel the weight of his erection against their thigh and it makes their head spin. Jihoon places soft kisses along their jaw, sliding down their neck before he settles on a place to mark. Soft kisses litter the skin of Y/N’s neck.
And then he sucks on the sensitive skin, causing Y/N to arch their back off the couch. “Oh my god. Jihoon, please.” They pant, hands back in his hair as they tug at the strands near his scalp. He moans a little louder than he would have liked to. His hips drag across Y/N’s thigh again, harder. They move their hand back to his sweats, not quite being able to make up their mind.
As he licks a sucks at their neck, they pull the strings of his sweats undone. “Shit. Not here.” Jihoon suddenly pulls away. Y/N looks up at him through hooded eyes, confused. “Not on the couch, baby. Let me take you to my room at least.” He clarifies, panting.
The heat on his face spreads down his neck as he speaks. Y/N nods, wrapping their arms around his neck and their legs around his waist. If it wasn’t for the sheer amount of strength they knew Jihoon had, they would have worried about accidentally pinning him to the couch like this.
Instead, he wraps his arm around their back under the sweater. With a strained breath, he flexes the muscles of his stomach and gets on his knees. Y/N gasps, still gripping onto him, though they know he won’t drop them. He turns his body, adjusting his legs so he’s sitting on the couch in a normal position. He pushes the ottoman away from the couch with his legs, clearing a path to exit the living room.
Y/N pulls their head up, placing soft kisses to his neck. He shudders as he stands up, arms still around their back as one slides down to their ass. He places it carefully under their legs, to better support their weight. He walks rather quickly to his room, releasing the hand from under Y/N’s ass to twist the doorknob open.
His room is flooded with sunlight from the large window which blinds have been opened. He sits quickly on his bed. Y/N takes advantage of this to straddle his lap. They grab the sides of his face, kissing him back onto the bed. “Shit. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” They gasp against him, causing him to whine again. “You sound so pretty, Jihoon.” He has no time to reply before he’s being kissed again, but he moans into it. It’s enough of a reply.
Y/N starts rocking their hips against Jihoon. The heat between their legs sits right over where he wants it to. He moans, audibly this time, not trying to suppress it against their lips. Y/N kisses him harder, feeling his hidden cock drag against their core. Shit, he’s huge.
Jihoon slides his hands under the sweater again. The fabric moves with his hands. Y/N sits up, pulling the fabric over their head. Jihoon stares as what he has only ever dreamed of stares him right in the face. The smooth skin of Y/N’s chest and stomach glow, quite literally, in the sunlight. Their skin has a golden hue to it and it looks like it’s sparkling.
Jihoon feels like he’s staring straight into the sun. The sight is so blinding.
He can’t help the hand that reached out, pretty fingers dancing across the skin of their stomach. It makes Y/N shiver. They let him have his moment, the same they had theirs when he took his shirt off— what feels like hours ago now.
Jihoon’s cock twitches so hard at the way they seem to chase every single one of his delicate touches. Y/N feels it happen against them. “Holy shit, I’m in love with you.” Jihoon whispers, one hand travelling to grab Y/N’s. The way Y/N moans quietly as he says it sends heat through his entire body.
Y/N interlaces their fingers with his. Jihoon feels his breath catch in his throat; his chest starts fluttering. “Jihoon, baby, shit—“ Y/N grinds down against Jihoon’s cock, his grip on their hand tightens. They look down at him, making direct eye contact.
His long eyelashes flutter delicately against his cheek. The sunlight shines through his eyes, making the normally dark irises appear far more intricate with a new golden hue. “I love you; I’m so in love with you. Shit, can’t believe it’s taken me this long to admit it.”
Neither of them can believe Y/N’s words. Not with the way the two of them are touching each other. Not with the way they kiss like it’s all they have. Not with the way Y/N looks in the sunlight. Especially not with the way Jihoon looks in the morning sun; all golden and beautiful, as out of breath as he is lovely. He looks like the sun.
“You look like the sun, baby. Like you have the stars in your eyes,” Y/N speaks their thoughts so clearly it catches Jihoon off guard. He chuckles deeply; the vibrations shoot straight through Y/N.
“I do.” He huffs, “I’m looking at you.” Y/N hides their face in their neck. Jihoon sighs. “Look me angel. Keep looking at me.” When he talks to them like that, it’s impossible not to. “There’s my baby.” The pet names ignite something in Y/N.
A careful hand finds the strings of Jihoon’s sweat pants. His free hand rests on their hip. They play with the strings before eventually slipping a finger under the waist band. The waistband of Jihoon’s boxers slides past their finger. “Wanna feel you. Please,” Jihoon’s cock twitches as Y/N shifts back on his legs, sitting perfectly on his thighs. “Please let me touch you, Jihoon.” He moans.
The way Y/N says his name is legitimately like a drug; he wants them to say it like this everyday, every time. He’s nodding, removing his hand from their hip to lift his hips off his bed. He pushes a hand under the waist band. Y/N uses theirs to move the other side.
With minimal struggle, which is incredibly surprising considering how much neither of them wanted to let go of the other’s hand, his pants and boxers reach the middle of his thigh. It’s enough to allow him to shift the rest of the way out of black sweat pants and matching boxers. They're kicked off the bed. Y/N gasps as his cock slaps the base of his stomach.
Jihoon looks away, half from embarrassment, half the give himself a break from the way Y/N stares at him. “You’re huge.” Y/N breathes. They swallow audibly, a small gasp leaving their lips. You’ve also been hiding this from me? They want to ask. Instead, they wrap their hand carefully around the base of Jihoon’s dick. It’s so heavy.
He hisses, back arching off the bed. “Oh my god. Need you to touch me.” Jihoon gasps, his teeth catching his bottom lip in between them. His eyes close as he steadies himself. There’s a brief moment of nothing before he feels it. A bead of spit slides down the head of his cock.
He looks back to Y/N immediately, seeing the origin of the drop still stuck on their bottom lip. He moans. The drop falls down his shaft, meeting the tip of Y/N’s finger. They give a slow pump to his cock and he hisses again. His grip on their hand tightens, and Y/N squeezes back.
“Careful baby,” they coo, “it’s okay. You’re okay. Let me make you feel good.” All he can do is nod. He bites his lip a little harder, enough for it to start to sting as the next stroke moves back up, squeezing a little more as Y/N’s hands get closer to his tip. “It’s so pretty Jihoon. You’ve such a pretty cock, fuck.” They slur, giving an experimental swipe of their thumb to the head of his cock. Jihoon gasps. His free hand moves to his sheets as his fingers curl tightly into the fabric.
Y/N does it again, this time sliding their thumb over his slit. His eyes shoot open with a curse, “Angel, please.” He whines. Y/N spits again, this time audibly. It makes Jihoon’s eyes roll back softly. A much bigger drop of spit falls against the side of his cock.
It makes him shiver. Y/N moves their hand up and down at a much faster pace. Jihoon’s head falls back again. He whines, lip still tight between his teeth. He’s swears he’s going to draw blood if they keep this up.
Y/N begins shifting, getting on their knees to place one of their own between Jihoon’s legs, spreading him open. They slide back, leaning over the head of his cock. They place a soft kiss to Jihoon’s tip. “Holy fuck!” He gasps, hand finding its way to their neck. He pushes his hand up into their hair. A soft lick slides over his slit.
Y/N’s tongue is welcomed with a salty drop of pre-cum. They moan, latching their lips over the head of Jihoon’s cock. The stretch from just his tip is completely foreign. There’s no way this blow job is going to go well for Y/N; it seems to be going great for Jihoon. He’s just so thick.
Jihoon brushes Y/N’s hair out of their face as they suck carefully on his head. “Jus’ like that, angel. Fuck, just like that.” Jihoon moans as Y/N flicks their tongue on the underside of his head. They can taste the precum on their tongue. Jihoon’s hand tightens in their hair as they slowly take more of him into their mouth.
His thighs shake as half of his cock slips inside Y/N’s mouth. He feels his tip hit the back of their throat and then he’s gone.
He slips his hand out of Y/N’s, a soft pang in his chest as he does so. His now free hand finds its way to their hair. He digs his fingers into the stands; his hips bucking up involuntarily. He lets out a loud, low moan when he feels the muscles in their throat constrict, taking him down their throat.
“You’re so good at this, fuck.” He hisses, eyes rolling back as his hair falls in his face. “Thought about your mouth so much.” Another confession slips past his lips. This one makes Y/N hum around him.
He gasps as Y/N starts bobbing their head, hands wrapped around whatever they can’t fit. It’s a substantial amount left outside of their mouth— really, it’s quite impressive how well endowed Jihoon is and how he’s done such a good job to hide it.
Though, thinking back to all of their trips to the beach, his dick print always did look quite big against his wet swim trunks. It always pressed against Y/N’s ass when they sat between his legs. It was always there.
Y/N slides one hand down his thigh, making him shiver as their nails drag across the pale skin. He shivers again, whining. Jihoon feels so sensitive; and then the tight knot in his stomach that he’s all too familiar with makes itself known. Only it’s much tighter than it’s ever been.
He gasps, hands digging into Y/N’s hair before he’s pulling them off. A thin line of spit connects their lips to his cock, and he almost snaps right there. He pants wildly, not being able to speak for a few seconds before a shy: “Sorry. I almost came,” leaves his lips. His cheeks burn as he catches his breath.
Jihoon’s tip is red and angry, leaking so much precum it’s almost impressive. It is impressive when Jihoon shifts his legs to pull Y/N up from his cock. They tower over him, face inches away from his. He hooks his legs between theirs, flipping them over so Y/N’s back is now against the mattress and he’s the one leaning over them.
His hands quickly find the waistband of Y/N’s shorts and they lift their hips up in an instant. His fingers hook under the band pulling them down to reveal—
“Fuck. Are those my boxers?” Y/N nods shyly as his eyes zero in on the pair of boxers he had given them after getting caught in the rain months ago. Jihoon yanks the shorts down, boxers coming off as collateral. Y/N kicks them off. His hand rubs up and down the smooth skin of their thigh.
He leans down, kissing them softly. A lot of the heat of the previous kisses is lost in this one. It’s gentle; so sweet it drives both of them insane. Y/N whines into the kiss and Jihoon continues to caress the inside of their thigh. He gives a soft squeeze to the skin, kneading it in his fingers. “Wanna touch you. Can I, angel?” He hums, placing soft kisses down Y/N’s neck. They nod, a small moan leaving their lips in response to the way Jihoon is kissing the side of their jaw, mixed with the cool metal of his necklaces dragging down their skin.
Y/N expects a hand to reach out and find their folds; except that’s not at all what happens. Jihoon continues kissing down their neck, over their chest and then to their stomach. He bites the skin softly, a hand running up their side. Y/N shivers, every single nerve in their body feels molten under his touch.
Finally, he kisses down their sagittal, stopping right before he reaches their clit. He exhales softly, the gust of breath against their core. He takes a moment to properly look at the sight in front of him. His hand finds his cock as he strokes it languidly. He bends down, lowering his mouth to the already wet folds.
“Please let me eat you out,” He begs. Y/N whines at the sight of him in between their legs. “Please.” He whispers. The puff of air that land against Y/N’s wet core sends a shiver up their spine again. Their hands find his hair, brushing through it.
“Jihoon, I swear to god if you don’t eat me out, I might—“ Jihoon flattens his tongue against Y/N’s opening, licking a stripe up the folds. Y/N feels all of the air leave their lungs as a pathetic mewl slips past their lips. He then dips his tongue in between them, licking all the way up before briefly attaching to their clit. “Fuck—“ they gasp, fingers digging in his hair.
He goes back to licking their folds, alternating between laying his tongue flat against them and working in between them. An experimental brush is placed against their entrance. Y/N pushes their hips down onto Jihoon’s face and uses their hands to push his face deeper. Jihoon takes that as a green light and begins to fuck them on his tongue.
“Shit, Jihoon. Gonna cum like this—!” They gasp, thighs closing in on his head. Jihoon pries their legs back open with his forearms. He keeps them pinned to the bed. One of his thumb attaches to their clit, rubbing it in slow circles. Y/N’s hands tighten at Jihoon’s roots, before they tug at it softly. The sensation makes him moan with his tongue deep inside Y/N.
Jihoon slides his tongue out of them, quickly replacing it with the hand that was on Y/N’s clit. His mouth swap places, pressing a soft kiss against their swollen clit. They jump, feeling one of Jihoon’s fingers press against their entrance. He carefully dips it in, slowly taking Y/N’s clit into his mouth at the same pace. God, he had incredible rhythm. It was no wonder he was such a good musician.
His first finger slips inside, slowly dipping in and out of Y/N’s dripping hole. He detaches his lips from their clit briefly. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He plants a kiss right above their clit, before his tongue reaches out and almost pulls it inside his mouth. “God, angel. You’re so beautiful.”
“Another,” Y/N gasps, “give me another finger, please.” They cry, head thrown back with their hands all over Jihoon’s hair. He can’t stop himself when he digs his hips into the mattress. He whines against their clit as he fucks into the sheets on his bed.
He presses a second finger into Y/N, curling the up finally. His fingers are so long that they press right into the perfect spot, making Y/N’s legs shake softly. He begins to thrust them in and out, each stroke pressing against it. Their soft gasps fill the room as Jihoon works his fingers inside them.
Jihoon lets out his own gasps at the sounds Y/N makes. The fact that he’s moaning while eating them out makes Y/N tug on his hair hard.
Something unexpected happens. Jihoon moans loudly against their clit, his mouth hovering over the bud as he tried to process why the hell he liked that so much. In his small moment of clarity he realizes he’s not the one that needs to be pleasured right now.
He resumes the pace of his fingers, tongue flicking against Y/N’s clit as he moans around it. His hand works his cock as he humps the mattress, removing his arm from the hold on their thigh.
A hot, white flash of pleasure fills Y/N as Jihoon speeds up both his fingers and his mouth. “Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum,” they gasp, pulling his hair once again. “Jihoon, please—“ Jihoon doesn’t take to this lightly. He keeps pumping his fingers, making sure to brush Y/N’s g-spot each time.
His dark eyebrows furrow against his forehead. He’s so focused on getting Y/N there that he stops touching himself and zeros in completely on the task at hand. Y/N writhes on top of the bed, legs shaking as their back arches off the soft sheets.
Jihoon moans softly around their clit, nipping it with his teeth and that’s it. Y/N cums, thighs shaking as their whole body burns. It’s so intense; Jihoon feels it coat his fingers as he fucks them through their orgasm with his long digits.
Once the shaking stops, he dives back down; he spreads his fingers inside Y/N, placing his tongue in between them to lick up as much of their release as he can. Y/N grips his hair once again, pulling his head up once it starts to get too much.
Y/N is panting as they pull him up into a kiss, his lips shining with his spit and their release. They wrap their legs around his hips, pulling him closer. His cock slides over their ruined pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly. “Need you inside. Please.” Y/N begs, and it’s enough for Jihoon to wrap his hand around his cock as he shifts his hips back. He slides his head over Y/N’s clit, brushing it in between their folds. Both of them moan in unison at this.
Jihoon wraps his other arm under their back, lifting them up as he places their back against the pillows on his bed. The angle makes it easier to kiss Y/N, which he does as he lines himself up. It also makes his necklace brush against Y/N’s burning skin.
He carefully pushes his tip against Y/N’s entrance. It slides in with little resistance. Y/N whines and grabs the sheets as they feel him push his cock inside. With the tip inside, he stops. The stretch of his cock is almost too much as he splits them wide open. “‘S so big. Fuck, you’re so big.” Y/N cries, a small tear sliding down their cheek. Jihoon kisses them softly, using his hand to wipe the tears from their eyes with his thumb.
Jihoon knows he’s well endowed. Rushing this part was never an option for him, but if he isn’t cursing the way Y/N clenches around his tip, trying to suck him in. It makes it so hard to be patient. He pulls away from the kiss slowly. “Look,” he looks down to where their bodies are now connected. The sight of his cock carefully making its way inside is enough to make both of their eyes roll back onto their heads.
Jihoon places a careful hand on the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling them up enough to give them a clear view of the sight. Jihoon guides his cock still, pushing in again; this time much slower. Low moans leave both of them as he enters.
Once he’s half way in, Y/N feels it. His tip brushes their g-spot and they gasp harshly. They rock their hips down before they feel a strong hand on their thigh, stopping them. Jihoon runs a hand through their hair, cooing softly as he soothes them. “Careful angel. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” He whispers, because he’s trying to not be a hypocrite. He desperately wants to slam into them.
The stretch is almost too much; it’s no longer uncomfortable, but it’s so much. He’s so big, filling every inch of them that he’s touching. “Please just get it over with. Please just put it in.” Y/N whines, arm wrapped around his neck as they watch the slow slide of his cock inside them. Jihoon nods, slowly pushing it in, now hands free. His unoccupied hand reaches for Y/N’s.
Their fingers intertwine as he finishes pushing the last bit inside. Y/N hisses softly. It’s so much, every new inch brushing their sensitive spot. He’s so deep. Jihoon kisses them softly as he starts to pull out. When he moves back in, both of them moan against each other’s lips.
Jihoon starts fucking into Y/N slowly, but it’s not enough for either of them. His pace picks up until the kiss dissolves when both of them start to pant, mouths hanging open. He’s everywhere. Every inch of his cock fills Y/N so full it makes their head dizzy.
All Y/N can think of is the thick drag of his cock inside their walls. They clench around him. Jihoon loses his pace for a second, before he’s skillfully angling his hips up, thrusting deeper.
The sting is nothing compared to the intense pressure that’s building back up inside Y/N. Jihoon must be able to feel it; his hips snap harder.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips moving steadily as he thrusts in and out. “You let other people fuck you?” He asks, his lips grazing Y/N’s even closer as they both catch their breaths. He looks at them expectantly, repeating his question. They nod, a silent yes in the air. “Yeah? Never again. No one else can fuck you like this ever again.” Y/N throws their head back, nails raking down Jihoon’s back. He hisses, moaning softly at the sting.
Fuck, with the way he’s moaning like this— with how he’s so vocal, soft gasps and moans constantly leaving his mouth— how could they ever let anyone else fuck them? If this is a one time thing, Y/N will gladly die a nun. “Yours, all yours. Jihoon-“ they hiccup, tears coming to their eyes. “Always been yours. It was always you, Jihoon.” They gasp, head falling back. A soft tear rolls down their face. Jihoon wipes it way with his unoccupied thumb.
“Don’t cry, angel. I’m right here. Your Jihoon’s here.” He holds Y/N’s face so carefully it makes their stomach turn. They pull his face down with the back of their arm, connecting their lips. Jihoon holds their face as he times his kisses with his thrusts. It drives Y/N insane. They dig their nails deeper into his back. He whines softly into the kiss. The soft hook of his nose rubs against their cheek.
“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.” Jihoon pants; it’s like a mantra of everything he’s felt for Y/N over the past three years. It’s being said like it was a long time coming, which it has been. Y/N moans at his words, fist deep in his hair.
“I love you, Jihoon,” They gasp as he thrusts particularly deep inside them. “It’s you, always been you. Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Jihoon moans deeply, his thrusts picking up speed at a brutal pace.
Y/N feels him everywhere. His hands are all over their body, rubbing over their chest; his breath is on their face with his cock deep inside them. Jihoon is so lost in the way Y/N grips him, pulling him back in. It’s so tight, it’s so much.
“Baby, fuck, baby— I’m gonna cum.” He gasps, soft whines and moans find their way into his words. “Where do I—”
“Inside, please,” Y/N pants, “need it inside.” They moan, gripping his hair harder, nails digging into his shoulder a little harder. Jihoon just nods, lips reconnecting with Y/N’s.
His hips speed up, getting more erratic with each thrust. He’s slamming into them, cock hitting far too deep for it to be comfortable, but neither of them are worried about it. All Y/N can focus on is the drag of his cock against every inch of them, hitting their g-spot perfectly every single time. The moans filling the room from both of them are so sweet and full of the most intense pleasures either has ever felt.
Jihoon’s hips stutter once, then twice more and he stops, all the way in Y/N as hot strings of cum spill out of his cock. He lets out a high-pitched moan; it’s so high it doesn’t even sound like him but it’s so pretty. This, mixed with the way that he’s so deep, has Y/N coming undone once again. Their whole body shakes a they release around him again. The sudden tightness around Jihoon’s aching cock doesn’t help how much he comes.
There’s so much of it, and it’s so intense. Jihoon has never cum so hard in his life. He almost blacks out. Y/N clenches tighter as their orgasm washes over them in a heat wave of their own, arguably, more intense feeling of pleasure.
And then it happens. All at once, Jihoon feels his lower stomach get soaked. Despite how sensitive he is, he moves his hips to fuck Y/N through it. He only rocks in deeper and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back in their head, vision blacking out a their mind goes completely blank. “Angel— angel, fuck. I’m here. I’m right here.” Jihoon’s hands move to the side of Y/N’s face, stroking their cheeks gently to ground them back into the moment. Jihoon wipes away small tears that fall down Y/N’s cheeks from the intensity of their orgasm. Their arms wrap around Jihoon’s neck, pulling him on top of them.
Jihoon releases the weight on his elbows, lying flat against Y/N’s chest. The extra weight on their body might help. He keeps rubbing his thumbs across their cheeks, waiting for the world to come back to Y/N.
When they finally move, Jihoon presses a soft kiss to their cheek. He smiles softly as their eyes flutter open, wet eyelashes sticking together. “Hi angel,” he coos, voice reverberating through his chest against Y/N’s. “Fuck, that was so… I hope it wasn’t too much.” He laughs softly, placing another soft kiss onto their lips.
Y/N exhales deeply, hands finding Jihoon’s hair once again. “It was so much but, god, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” They hold Jihoon close, not quite ready to deal with the aftermath of the situation. “We have so much to talk about.” They deadpan. It makes Jihoon swallow nervously before he realizes they’re smiling.
Carefully, he starts pulling out as he softens. Both of them are so sensitive; gasping and whining as Jihoon takes eons to finally pull all the way out. A noticeable wet spot is under Y/N, coating Jihoon as well. He’d normally bitch about it, but he just smiles. He pulls away from them carefully, watching as his cum slips out of Y/N. There’s so much of it and he has the urge to push it back in but it would be too much for both of them right now.
“I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta clean you up.” He carefully climbs off the bed, his legs shaking as he takes a wobbly step on the ground. One foot after the other, he walks to the bathroom.
Y/N lays on his bed panting, legs still spread wide as Jihoon’s cum slowly leaks out of them. Their hands find their chest, resting flat against the skin; right over their heart, which is beating wildly in their chest.
Jihoon returns a few minutes later to his bedroom, already cleaned up, to find Y/N laying with their eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the soft rise and fall of their chest, he would have thought they died. He places the glass of water on his night stand before he falls back between their legs. He pushes them open, slowly moving the warm washcloth over their folds.
Y/N doesn’t move, except for their eyes which open slowly. Jihoon wipes carefully, lifting their hips up slowly to clean up all of their— and his— releases. He shifts their hips over to avoid setting them back down in the, much bigger than he initially thought, wet spot on his bed. He leans over them to retrieve the glass of water. “Drink up, angel.” He grasps the straw with his index finger against the rim of the glass, pressing it to their lips.
Y/N takes a slow drink, cheeks hollowing around the straw. They look up at Jihoon, who is now leaning on his side, as he watches them take a drink. His hair is undeniably a mess, his face and parts of his chest still flushed. He looks so beautiful, eyes drooping from exhaustion in the glow of the morning sun.
Once the straw is moved away from their lips Y/N speaks. “You really do look like the sun.” A soft, tired smile falls across their face.
“You’re going to kill me, angel. Seriously. I think you already did.” He laughs, head thrown back with the softest of smiles on his face.
It’s a new experience for both of them; sex, aftercare, being so domestic like this. It’s still so comfortable, like life with Jihoon has always been. “It’s called a white death for a reason.” Y/N quips and it makes Jihoon laugh harder. He leans over them to place a soft kiss to their lips. Y/N’s hand finds the side of his face.
There’s no heat in this kiss, all of their energy was already expelled in an endothermic reaction between them. It’s so tender, as though everything either of them want to say at the moment is held within it. Jihoon pulls away first, head resting against Y/N’s shoulder. “I really do love you,” He breathes against their cooling skin, “‘m sorry I told you for the first time during sex.” While they can’t see it, Y/N knows his face is red once again. The tips of his ears heating up is a dead giveaway.
“I love you too.” Y/N breathes, hand resting carefully on his head. It’s a little harder to speak these words now, but they’re still incredibly easy. It’s almost a second nature, most likely because it’s Jihoon. “We should probably talk about this.”
They do. They shower separately, Jihoon sneaking back into the bathroom to press a soft kiss to the back of their neck as they dry off, arms wrapping around their waist with the pretence of just wanting to be near you. In the comfort of Jihoon’s couch, which is now forever imprinted with the image of him lying on top of Y/N as they exchanged first kisses. The skin of back feels sensitive again the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
They talk about it in Jihoon’s apartment, which he realizes has Y/N everywhere within it. They talk about when both of them realized this friendship became a little less platonic— two years ago on the camping trip after Soonyoung ate shit wakeboarding and you laughed so hard you thought you were going to throw up, mixed with when you hugged me for the first time after you had a rough shift at work and just wanted to be held.
About when they realized it was love— when you fell asleep on my shoulder halfway through a horror movie, and last year when you called me crying and I realized I never wanted to see you that hurt ever again.
About what it means for both of their futures; a collective agreement of a relationship. Another collective agreement of slowing down, a limit of kisses only until things naturally go elsewhere.
They talked over a warm cup of coffee, the soft sunlight losing its golden hue as morning turned into noon. Jihoon wraps his arm around their shoulder, placing a soft kiss against their damp hair. “Seal it with a kiss?” He suggests, now that they were both on the same page.
Y/N cranes their head up, more than willing to accept his proposal. Jihoon leans down, soft lips meeting him in the middle. He smiles. As bright as the sun, Y/N thinks.
Yeah. He’s a star.
And when Y/N leaves the practice room a week later, pressing a soft kiss against Jihoon’s lips, he feels warm. Save for the shocked gasps from the members, especially Seungkwan and his following declaration of: “You all owe me so much fucking money.”
Jihoon’s anger towards the fact that his band mates were placing bets on when he would get into a relationship with Y/N was nothing compared to the supernova bubbling up in his chest. It was nothing compared to the cataclysm of love he felt throughout his whole body.
So. How exactly do you kill the sun?
With soft lips and tender kisses. With small, shared, knowing glances at each other while your hands rest on each others legs in the booth of a restaurant surrounded by others.
Over a pot of shared ramen, arms around each other as they laugh at shitty comedies on Jihoon’s big couch. With hushed whispers under his sheets, hands grabbing onto anything they can reach.
By the fireplace in his childhood home, curled up under a blanket as his mom embarrasses him with childhood tales. On the beach, as he rubs sunscreen over Y/N’s back, sunglasses placed over his eyes and his hair tied back to keep it out of his face. Under Seungcheol’s knowing eyes when he officially tells everyone that, “Yes, we’re together.” They’ll have to talk about it later.
Backstage, after Jihoon won best producer for nth time and Y/N can’t quite keep the smile off their face, or hide the tears forming at their waterline. Hugging him after a long day, just for the purpose of being near him. Through tears on the worst days and a shower of kisses on the best days.
On one knee with a small black box, at an ungodly hour of the night when a late night walk on the bridge gave him the confidence he needed to finally pop the question after he accidentally told Y/N he was going to marry you one day during some sweet love making that took place the night before.
With tears in his eyes as he watches the rest of his life begin.
With Y/N.
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a/n: aaaaand that’s a wrap!!!! this is my first full fic that i’ve posted here wowie. i might possibly make a sfw part two of their relationship bcs i am so obsessed w how jihoons so clingy n in love oh my god. maybe a prequel?? of all the little moments i mentioned. lmk !!
reblogs n comments r much appreciated!!!
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zlebooks · 1 year
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A SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD (TIED ME TO YOU) 𓍯 series of events where you realize your fate with him is much more intertwined than how you initially believed it to be.
INCLUDES. 🪡 childe, thoma, xiao, zhongli (i might do a part two for ayato, diluc, kazuha !! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts as soon as possible 😭)
AUTHOR’S NOTE. you know the trope “omygod it’s annoying you’ve been by my side all the time but somehow it became less annoying… i like it even and omg i didn’t notice that what i’m looking for is you all along” ?? yes this is that trope … inspired by taylor swift’s invisible string and the movie harry met sally! both got me in a chokehold rn. also the angst levels increase the further you scroll down.
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somehow friends to lovers, mentions of wedding and settling down.
childe is a friend. although, he isn’t the type of friend that you share your secrets with, not a friend who regularly contacts you to hang out, nor is he a friend that eats ice cream with you whenever you get your heart broken. childe is the friend you met through mutual connections, the one that makes you say ‘oh! what a small world’ because you just met him last week at a friend’s birthday and now he’s attending as one of the groomsmen at your distant relative’s wedding.
he’s equally surprised as you, of course he wouldn’t forget the one person that told him: “god this party sucks” when the celebrant was just literally behind the two of you. he remembers you being brazen and holding a glass of beer on one hand.
just like the birthday party, during the wedding’s reception, childe finds himself sitting beside you. he asks you how you’re doing as if a lot happened within the week you were separated.
(“you say that as if a week could eventful.”
“hey! a lot can happen in a week!”
you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to prove his point.
“like one of your friends getting married!” he gestures to the now married couple dancing.
you find yourself stupidly laughing.)
you both enjoy yourselves together. in the short period of time you sat beside him, you figured that childe was fun to be around and he basically knows everyone in the city.
that’s why, you couldn’t help but joke that you might see him again in another wedding.
(you did.)
surprise was an understatement when you saw him entering the venue. this time, you were a bridesmaid, and he was the cousin of the groom. and just like the previous wedding, childe finds himself sitting beside you, now talking about how the last two months went for you.
(“you better not tell me i can’t ask you about how you spent the last two months because it’s a short time.”
“you know how a year for a human is seven years for a dog?”
“you’re telling me i’m the dog?”
once again, you idiotically laugh.)
this time around, you found out that childe’s real name was ajax. childe was just a nickname given to him by his 8th grade teacher and the name has been stuck ever since. you figured out that he likes the nickname rather well— he tells you that it makes him interesting to which you disagree, sparking a thirty minute debate between you two.
when the party died down, and you were called to help the newly wedded bride, you both bid each other good night. this time, it was his turn to joke about the next wedding you two will meet.
(“if i saw you again in another wedding, i promise to shave my head.”
you snort, “see you at the next wedding then.”)
the moment you meet childe once again, you were a little bit disappointed that you weren’t wearing another bridesmaid dress. however, childe was more than ecstatic that he met you in a baby shower hosted by a mutual friend (once again).
the moment the couple popped the balloon which launched dozens of pink confetti to the air, childe appears right beside you almost immediately.
this time, you find out that he’s equally anxious as you to see the people in your life settling down. that your friends left and right are getting married and having kids, while you had the trouble of looking for someone to spend new year’s eve with.
(“don’t you think that all these events we’re attending are getting suffocating?”
this was the first time you wholeheartedly agree with him without the teasing.)
when everyone else was starting to clean up, and you finally put your hand on your friend’s belly to feel the baby kick, childe tells you he’s going home with a box of take outs. he finally asks you for your number, telling you that he hopes to see you again without the pressuring reminders of settling down.
(“see you on new years?”
“see you on new years.”)
five months went by without the wedding and baby shower invitations, you were glad to say the least. while you were incredibly happy for your friends, you can’t help but to feel insecure for being unable to settle down like the most of them are.
childe and you call sometimes, mostly right before bed and you always scold him for ruining your body clock. but as whiny as you can be, you never actually hung up on him.
these conversations over the phone let you discover little things about childe. like how he hates ketchup on eggs but is fine with it being on everything else, how he likes eating mint choco flavored ice cream but detests anything else flavored mint, and the fact that one of his hobbies is crocheting stuffed toys for teucer who you learned was childe’s youngest brother.
he came from a big family from the country side. he had three older siblings and another three that followed him. you learn that he was a family man; he specifically treasures and adores the three younger ones left at home.
you discover that to them, childe is ajax— the dependable big brother.
during the phone calls, ajax tells you his adventures back home. how he once got pulled into the lake after catching a fish bigger than him, how he once went home with more than enough bruises after learning how to skate for the first time. in return, you supply him the latest office gossip; how the boss and his secretary were sleeping together and almost got caught by the wife. putting things into perspective, your stories were much more dull.
despite these phone calls starting to become a part of your nightly routine, you both never came around to the idea of spending time with each other in personal.
however, the promise of spending new years with each other still remains. and when the night came, you were all bundled up in his arms from complaining how cold it was outside. it was now his turn to complain about the cold as you have succeeded at stealing his mittens and scarf.
(“you didn’t think you could dress for the weather?”
“my coats at home ruin my dress.”)
when the countdown starts and the ball finally drops, everyone starts kissing their partners while you could only stare at childe’s lips. he does the same to you, and before you knew it, you were leaning towards each other, finding the warmth of your lips.
ajax finally meets you halfway and the moment just felt right.
(the next wedding you attend to was yours. and every single one of your mutual friends were invited.)
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friends to lovers, swearing.
thoma has been there for your first heartbreak.
he was there to watch every sappy romcoms known to man with you, he was there to give you a new roll of tissue whenever you ran out, and he was right beside you to clean up whatever mess you made.
thoma has been there when your first love shattered your heart into pieces just like how you’ve been there for him when his broke.
the two of you fell easily into a routine; he listens when you gush over the guy you recently met while you give him advice on how to win over his seat mate in class. he reassures you that it wasn’t your fault that things ended up that way while you listen to his frustrations about how incorrigible his girlfriend was. the two of you share a microwave meal as you both whine how relationships are tiring only for the two of you to share a tub of ice cream two weeks later, as you talk about how beautiful it is to love.
the night you call him, your words gibberish and barely comprehensible, it doesn’t take thoma very long to piece the puzzles together. you were obviously upset (upset is an understatement) about your recent romantic endeavor and it was up to thoma to cheer you up just like you’ve done for him many times.
on his way to your home, he picks up a tub of ice cream, a pack of tissue to be safe, and a romantic film that he knew would make you laugh at the ridiculousness.
he rings your doorbell to which you open the door in response, and he sees you standing in your pjs, eyes bloodshot and snot all over your nose. while this was the typical look whenever you were heartbroken, thoma is confused and left to wonder— you have yet to mention being interested to someone for the past two months.
but when a gold envelope haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter catches his eyes, thoma gets the idea.
“he’s getting married.” you sob loudly, “he’s fucking getting married.”
the male hands you the box of tissue he bought, and you motion him to enter the flat.
“all this time, i thought he didn’t want to get married ever, but he just meant that he didn’t want to get to married to me,” you cry harder than what thoma was accustomed to, and scared that you might literally fall apart, he leads you to your couch.
“and you know what’s funny? they’re getting married on spring,” you inhale briefly, “in fucking spring thoma! that’s when i wanted to get married.”
the man pats you in the back, “he was a douche anyway; i didn’t like him.” thoma takes out the ice cream he bought, handing it to you and the spoon urging you to eat like it would make your problems disappear right away.
as if you hadn’t heard your friend, you continue venting out your frustrations. “and get this: the girl he’s marrying is hannah.”
“hannah?”
“hannah on your 21st birthday. your hannah!”
“oh.”
he sits on the couch, grabs the tub of ice cream and keeps it to himself.
and then the two of you sit in silence.
“do you think this is god’s way of telling us that we’re meant for each other?”
thoma raises an eyebrow.
“i mean, all the people that throws us away—“ thoma decides that he will lecture you on your choice of words, “—end up being together. like maybe we’re so bad that we’re made for each other?”
“which movie did you watch without me?” he teases, to which you take offense because you would never dare to watch a bad movie without him. the rest of the night continues without the topic being brushed over once again but for a moment, thoma actually considers the thought.
maybe, just maybe.
five months followed, and you never cried out your heart to him ever since. thoma, finds himself relinquishing from meeting new people, taking time to sort out himself partly. the other part knows that ever since you told him your silly theory about why your relationships always end up as failures, thoma had started seeing you more than as a friend.
he thinks that he’d make a great damn boyfriend; better than anyone else you had. he knows exactly what makes you double on the floor for laughing, the food you want to eat on certain days, and how to calm you down whenever you were anything but.
despite that, thoma waits. he waits for you to come to him, waiting for you to realize, and waiting for you to be ready. so when you call him up on a friday night, just to hang and not talk about how relationships were taxing, that was the moment he knew.
when you told him you wanted to see another romcom movie without being gibberish and snot blocking your nose, he decides that maybe it’s finally the right time.
thoma lives for the after. the after of every failed relationship because he knows that at the end of the tunnel, there is hope. that in every relationship he enters, he’ll be one step closer to “the one”. and as he looks at you, fighting to keep your eyes wide open to watch yet another sappy romcom movie, he realizes you were the after.
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kind of soulmates to lovers, reincarnation, character death (but it’s a happy/hopeful ending don’t worry)
xiao dreams.
at night, dreams plague him in his sleep and he wakes up wondering what is it all about.
illustrations of what wang shu inn looked like more than 10,000 years ago visits him in his sleep, the old liyue looking so vivid as if he lived to tell the its tales.
in these dreams, xiao is always visited by the same person. their hair covers almost half of their face whenever the wind blows, their lips always chastising the “him” in his dreams, their smile was so bright that it completely unravels the heavy knot on xiao’s chest.
and xiao finds himself longing. whenever he wakes up in the morning, he yearns for this person. for him, it feels like the act of falling in love with someone you don’t know, missing somebody you never met.
(“promise that you will look for me in our next lives, alatus.”
xiao jolts awake.)
the young man has heard of that name before.
in his history class, way back in 7th grade, he had heard the feats and victories that belonged to the name. a fearless warrior that served liyue’s god, alatus was said to die peacefully years after the war yet he was all alone.
he had lived his life devoted to the god of contracts; spending his days fighting demons, alatus’ loyalty was to liyue and its people.
xiao hears that a museum nearly ten blocks away has opened to visitors. it is said it contains almost all the rich history of liyue that remains untouched, including portraits and statues once revered many years ago. there, xiao seeks answers.
he arrives at the sight of a familiar figure.
“do you know him?”
you turn around, looking at the guy bewildered.
“i’d have to be really old for me to know him,”
xiao feels his breath taken away from him as he finally confirms his suspicions; you looked exactly like the person in his dreams, only your hair is much shorter. the flurry of emotions inside of him breaks the dam; his heart pounding loudly in his chest that any louder you would have heard it, his head filled with incomplete memories, and his lungs struggling to breath.
(one night at wangshu inn, he sees you brushing your hair.
“join me and let’s look at the stars together.” you pat the space next to you.
“waste of my time.” he tsks, before muttering his breath but he finds himself taking his rightful place beside you.)
he notices the way your eyebrows furrow at him and your lips turning into a pout. “has anyone told you that you look exactly like the guy in the painting?”
true to your words, when xiao gazes upwards, he sees himself staring back at him. eyes bore into his soul, scrutinizing his every move and it’s extremely weird that such painting makes him feel like he’s being watched, and by himself no less.
below the painting, a gold plate is mounted against the wall.
a lover’s oath.
alatus in the art is holding someone. their white clothing smeared with blood, and the tears that fall from the yaksha’s face were enough to tell xiao that they were in their last moments before separation.
strangely, xiao feels a tug on his heart strings. an overwhelming feeling looks over him, and he feels like he’s about to cry.
“it brings you to tears, doesn’t it?”
(xiao in his dreams feels like his heart was ripped open.
in his arms, the only person he might have loved is already dying. the blood from the wound seeping on their clothes is a reminder that it’s only minutes away before their impending doom.
xiao, for the first time in a while, cries when he wakes up.)
“i dream of the person in white,” xiao suddenly confesses.
“they say that they might have been alatus’ friend, companion, and lover.” you tell him, reading from the standee near you.
when you receive no reply from the male, you glance at him and your eyes meet.
intrigue, you ask, “how do they look like in your dreams?”
“they look like you.”
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the timeline varies but it’s mainly centered in whatever the genshin timeline is for plot convenience, references to death (still happy ending), reincarnation au, it literally takes several lifetimes for zhongli to realize he likes you, literally the “i’m god’s favorite mortal; he favors me” pipeline. ALSO i got carried away im sorry
first.
you first meet zhongli as a refugee from the waging war. the god governing your land slaughtered mercilessly by those who seek more power. your feet brings you to morax; looking for a shelter and protection.
you almost got turned away, even receiving snide remarks from higher beings for being naively brave to seek protection from a god when you were nothing but a mortal.
(but what is a god’s purpose if not to protect the nation he governs and the people inhabiting it?)
it was only in the right hand deity’s grace were you able to stay.
so like a fish out of water, you live amongst immortals, making yourself useful with mundane tasks that warriors shouldn’t be bothered with.
(when you died in the hands of the enemy, it served as a reminder why morax fights this war.)
second.
the next time zhongli notices of your presence, it was in the middle of the rise of liyue harbor. he is finally a step closer to building a safe land to house his people; long years of the war soon to be buried.
morax, now known as rex lapis, hears every single prayer made at his statues.
he feels you ardently take care of the sculptures and in return, he passionately listens to your pleas of saving your sick mother.
(on your way home one day, you find a plant you’ve never seen before. you take its fruit for your mother to eat as you hold onto your faith, hoping that this may be the answer to your prayers.
the next day, she stands up from her bed for the first time in a long while.)
third.
the first time you were able to hold a conversation with zhongli, was his first time walking amongst mortals.
he now goes by jiawei, a struggling merchant trying to strike a fortune in the harbor— at least that’s what he tells you during your introductions.
you’ve always thought that jiawei was a noble’s son. his vast knowledge on liyue’s history, his proficiency in reading and writing, and his peculiar taste for lavishness gave it away. furthermore, there were days he hadn’t been present, and you surely assumed it was due to his duties as a noble.
zhongli, or jiawei in this life, shares myths and legends of ancient liyue to you while you show him the ropes of living as a simple commoner in his land. he teaches you how to read and write while you teach him what goes on at the streets of the harbor.
(when jiawei doesn’t appear one night to meet you under the stars, you assume he finally grew out of his childlike wonder and immaturity. instead, he grows into the shoes that were his noble duties.)
fourth.
zhongli catches your reincarnation crying underneath an oak tree this time.
he approaches you gently, wishing to comfort an old friend even if you probably don’t remember him. a hand behind your back soothes whatever distress you’re carrying as he tells you everything will be alright.
zhongli learns you are bound to suffer the same fate as almost every maiden in his country.
in a few months or so, your hand will be taken and you will be forced to marry someone whom you have yet to meet.
and zhongli, for the first time, meets someone who openly cursed rex lapis.
(“trust in the lord rex lapis my foot, he doesn’t even listen to my prayers!”
zhongli purses his lips— if only you retained your past memories.)
the following week, your father shared good news that you wouldn’t have to marry to save your clan from ruin. apparently, your crops have never been better and every merchant is seeking business with you.
the next time you see the man who listened you vent out your frustrations under a tree, you thank him for the comfort you received. he expresses his happiness as you tell him that maybe rex lapis isn’t deaf after all while you don’t catch the slight tense on his shoulders.
(that life, just like any other life, you thank him with a different name yet again. zhongli feels that he’s close to losing his identity.)
fifth.
“i know you from somewhere.”
“that wouldn’t be possible; i have just gotten back from my travels.”
“i know you from a long time ago.”
“again, that would be impossible.”
the fifth time zhongli meets you, he notices that your sense of deja vu has gotten stronger.
the god gives you his mortal name that he decided to stick to, making it the first time among others that you meet him under the name zhongli.
in this life, he tells you that he’s a scholar that hails from the land of sumeru with keen interest on liyue’s rich history, and now he’s traveling across teyvat for his studies. you find yourself not believing him one bit.
he tells you stories from his travels, from the hospitality of mondstandt to the exquisite cuisine of inazuma, zhongli recounts the wonders of each nations he’s visited. but from his stories, you know that the man’s heart will always remain in liyue.
and as months passed by and seasons changed, you find yourself wishing that his heart would remain with you as well. but the god resigned himself to a much crueler fate; to walk down a path alone and by himself.
(“i think i love you.”
“it shall pass.”)
sixth.
the heart is a fickle thing, zhongli realizes.
in your previous lifetime, he refused to return your feelings and for a while, he’s committed to it. but as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in this lifetime, he was suddenly reminded that he too, was capable of loving.
zhongli doesn’t approach you, afraid that the feelings he has locked away far deep into the trenches of his heart will blossom and turn into something as beautiful as flowers. but alas, your soul finds his, under the same oak tree that he once found you under, and you almost remembered.
(“i just know that you were special to me.”
zhongli almost caves.)
seventh.
almost a century passes by and zhongli’s feelings for you remain the same. you died and you were reborn.
he never reveals himself to you.
eighth.
ninth.
tenth.
eleventh.
(“why do you seem so afraid?”
the god does not reply, afraid that his voice might give him away.
“why can’t you give us a chance?”)
twelfth.
when zhongli is just zhongli and rex lapis was no more, he comes and finds you.
he dines with you in your favorite restaurant, he walks around the harbor with you hand in hand, and he finally takes you to places in liyue to see its beauty that the textbooks could never justify.
for the first time, the ex archon takes the key and unlocks his heart, allowing himself to love with no restrictions.
(you die from old age, and you know that your husband isn’t anything like you for his hair remained dark while yours turned white, his skin smooth and soft while yours had turned wrinkled and rough from time.)
twentieth.
liyue’s skies have been crying non stop and zhongli is to blame partly.
while he had renounced his claim to the land long ago, a part of his soul is still linked to his beloved nation.
your body remained lifeless, cold, and bitter in the god’s arms. you died peacefully in your sleep, beside your lover and zhongli feels like heart in his chest is being ripped apart slowly and painfully.
as a mortal, you were granted with infinite numbers of reincarnations. you meet zhongli, you spend your lifetime with him wondering why his touch feels so familiar, and then you die peacefully. the cycle repeats.
(zhongli is cursed; he’s sure of it.
while he remembers every waking moment with you, you were bound to forget him and the lives you spent together.
but still, even if the cycle of losing you hurts more than any wound he received from the wars he fought, zhongli continues.
for what is grief if not love persevering?)
twenty-fifth.
through the years, he has grown weary and tired. the path to godhood is a lonely one, but a path leaving his old ways whilst immortal? zhongli has never felt more alone in his life.
he ventures the lands and seas in attempt to break free from the shackles of being a god.
but even then, his path remains anything but fortuitous; his attempts were futile.
(it was his turn to swear at celestia and the higher beings.)
thirty-ninth.
zhongli finds comfort in writing.
he jots down everything about you in every life you spend with him, afraid he’ll forget one detail about you.
this is where he finds solace in when time takes you away from him. it’s what keeps him sane as he waits for you in your next life and the one after that.
as he reads and reads the words he put down into notes, he notices nothing ever changes. he always end up falling in love with you, and you always end up falling in love with him. for zhongli, may it be cruel in its own way, it is a reminder that immortal he may be, he always has a place in your mortality.
(“what are you writing?”
“just some reminders for the day darling.”)
fortieth.
zhongli, with how long he’s been living, should have known better than to leave his possessions laying out in the open.
it’s not like he’s keeping secrets from you, but even he would go crazy if he finds a journal (of his lover nonetheless) that suggests he’s already living his fortieth life.
but you were better than zhongli at handling things like this. you were much more patient and calmer, like the never changing rivers of liyue.
zhongli tells you of your past lives for the first time, and you cry.
not because you felt trapped by loving the same person all the time, but rather, sorry that your lover had to go through all of it all alone.
(“can’t you just grow old with me?”
“believe me sweetest, i tried.”)
morax, rex lapis, jia wei, zhongli. they’re all the same. they’re all slaves to love and to the dreams of spending the rest of their lives with someone they cherish.
that night, zhongli prayed, got on his knees and begged.
once, he was an enemy of celestia. now, he falls to its feet willing to do anything just for it to grant his wish.
he doesn’t sleep, eat, or drink. he just prays.
(oh how the mighty have fallen.)
a week later, your eyes squint at him and he wonders.
“is there something on my face?”
you shake your head, and without warning you pull a strand of hair from his head.
“are you supposed to have white hair?”
zhongli, funnily enough, starts bawling.
(you never thought someone would be so happy that wrinkles are starting to appear all around his face, and how the callousness of his hands become more evident.)
forty-ninth.
fiftieth.
fifty-third.
sixtieth.
seventieth.
zhongli is able to love freely. finally.
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please do not repost or translate without my permission. reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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Words of encouragement with
Astarion:
"Don't be part of the problem. Be the ENTIRE problem. That way it's easier to remedy it."
"Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is you're stupid and make bad decisions."
“Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.”
“A thousand-mile journey starts with one step. Then again, so does falling in a ditch and breaking your neck.”
“If at first, you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”
“The worst part of success is trying to find someone who is happy for you.”
“It could be that your purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others.”
“Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.”
“Just because you are unique doesn't mean you are useful.”
“I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.”
Ze'erith: *leans in* “Just because we accept you as you are doesn’t mean we’ve abandoned hope you’ll improve.”
Astarion: *opens his mouth then shuts it, side-eyeing hard* >8[
Gale: *leans in on the other side* “When life knocks you down, stay there and take a nap.”
Astarion: What-?!
Karlach: *appears with Wyll* “Doing nothing is very hard to do… you never know when you’re finished.”
Wyll: “The reward for good work is more work”
Astarion: Now, wait just a moment, this was my-
Shadowheart: *fighting Lae'zel in the background and getting pinned* “There are no stupid questions, but there are a LOT of inquisitive idiots.”
Lae'zel: *starts wailing on Shadowheart* “You’re naturally funny because your life is a joke.”
Astarion: *throws his hands up with a scoff and stands there with his arms crossed, pouting* This isn't fun anymore.
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Come with me on this journey okay:
-Stay-at-home-wheelchair-Dad Jake Sully babysits literally all children. His own, whatever fosters Norm has at the time, Tonowari’s, and Tsu’sey and Sylwanin’s. He is the babysitting and parenting God. 
-When they’re really rowdy he puts them all on leashes and has them pull him around the street yelling “MUSH, MUSH!”
-Eytukan is retired, so he helps Mo’at run her free clinic. Jake spends like all his free time there, “helping out” with his hoard of children. It’s really just a nice open area for the kids to play in, big fields and equipment in clear view while Jake helps with physical therapy.
-The clinic is where he and Neytiri met, he didn’t have the money for treatment on vet benefits after he was paralyzed in the marines so he ended up at the free clinic. Neytiri volunteers for her mother on the weekends, and she bullied him into enjoying life again. 
-Sylwanin and Jake are pretend frenemies, she pretends to hate him because he stole her little sister AND managed to get married and have kids before her and Tsu’tey who have been dating for like, their entire lives. Jake says it’s because they have yet to be blown up, and he can help her with that. 
-Every time Jake wheels his way in with all the kids Sylwanin goes “Oh, it’s you,” and Jake says “Yeah yeah, just your brother in law, not like I should get any respect around here,” and then he hands her her exact Starbucks order and offers to have Lo’ak throw up on her most hated patient. 
-(when he was little Lo’ak could throw up on command)
-Sylwanin loves all her nieces and nephews equally but she especially enjoys Spider, because before he was adopted he was in the clinic fairly often for suspicious injuries. She hasn’t shaken the urge to watch him like a hawk yet. 
-Eytukan and Jake are Boys in a way that disgusts all the women in their family. They go golfing together, and Eytukan accuses Jake of cheating via proximity to the ground.
-Lo’ak was DETERMINED to golf with them for years and when they actually let him come he cried he got so bored.
-Neteyam would never admit this under pain of death, but he enjoys golfing. 
-Spider, Neteyam, Ao’nung, and Lo’ak are all deeply obsessed with American Ninja Warrior, so Tonowari, Jake, and Tsu’tey built a course for them. They then started to get a little into it and it got serious. To this day out of everyone they know Jake is the only one to have completed the salmon ladder, and then he hauled himself off the mat and back into his chair and Tonowari and Tsu’tey had to reconsider their sexualities. 
-When Kiri, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Spider, and Ao’nung were all babies Jake went to the store with them all strapped to him or in a basket on his wheelchair and someone called the cops cause they thought he stole all those varying ethnicity babies. 
-Jake calls it The Great Baby Heist of 2077 and Tsu’tey always responds to this story by asking what idiot would want that many babies?
-Sometimes Sylwanin gets too friendly with Jake and quickly pretends to get mad at him. 
-Tonowari and Tsu’tey became friends by both being confused as hell by their friend Jake. When they met him he was all depressed and rotting away alone in the free clinic. Now he’s so high energy he raced Lo’ak once and threw himself out of his chair to get extra momentum to beat Lo’ak over the arbitrary finish line. He had a pool installed for Kiri to just float in and stare at the sky. He bakes cookies with Tsireya balanced on his chair between his legs so he can help her crack the eggs. He beat Tsu’tey in a wrestling match in the gym the other day. His enthusiasm for life scares them, they spend a lot of time side eyeing each other behind him. 
-Sylwanin (secretly) likes Jake because he’s a good father and husband to her kids, and he’s funny and a good person, but she likes him even more for the energy he brings out in her husband. Tsu’tey is NOT GOOD at making friends, he’s awkward and he’s a weirdo. But now he plays tennis twice a week with Jake, Norm, and Tonowari and spends like every evening she has to work at the Sully house for dinner. 
518 notes · View notes
the-darklings · 2 years
Text
──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐕.]
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summary: "You look lonely, Dream."
pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader
wc: 3.5k+
warnings: dare I say it... soft, Dream is still Dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
notes: you're all actually insane. thank you so much for your support & I love you. enjoy perhaps the happiest chapter in the story : )
part one | series masterlist | ao3 |
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PART FIVE: YEAR 522
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“Enjoying yourself?”
You nudge the book from over your face, squinting at the tall figure looming over you. “I was till about two seconds ago.” 
Your retort is lost in a sleepy yawn as you cover your mouth. 
Corinthian’s tall frame casts a steep, hard-edged shadow over your body. He doesn’t move. Sighing, you unhook your legs to sit up, blinking up at him. “Where were you? I haven’t seen you in two days.”
“Performing my duty,” he replies smoothly, mockingly bowing. “As our benevolent ruler has intended. Even I get tonight off.”
“Right. Good dreams for everyone.”
Dreamfall is tonight. The inhabitants that call this realm their home—nightmares and dreams alike—have been prepping for the celebration since light first broke over the land. 
Corinthian steps under the whistling willow, visibly amused by how the branches seemingly hiss whenever he draws too near. He sits down against the trunk without forewarning, grabbing your ankles resting in the shade. He lifts your legs before dropping them over his lap unceremoniously. His hat drops beside him, and you huff at his gall. Your shoe nudges his deliberately—a half kick—your sweet smile making an equally poisonous smile curl his mouth. 
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” he drawls insincerely. 
Rolling your eyes, you leaf through the book you were reading before your impromptu nap. 
“Will you be at the celebration?” you inquire casually, not looking his way.
The nightmare clicks his tongue. “No.”
Your stare skims over the edge of your hardcover, “Why not?”
A thin, polished blade appears in his hand, looping between his long fingers. He seems too thoughtful for it to not spell trouble. “Taking a page from your book and running from things.”
This time your kick lands intentionally against his ankle. Corinthian doesn't react to it. Lately, he's been convinced you're running from things that have transpired in your extended life. It's true to an extent. You're not idiotic enough to convince yourself otherwise. Kernel of truth or otherwise, you would rather talk about anything else. 
This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at the Dreaming in a single stretch. Almost a year. But this time is different. You can’t help but get a sense others don’t want you to leave. They’re concerned about you. After your last mishap in the waking world, no one can blame them, certainly not you. You were in terrible shape. If anything, you had forgotten how sweet it is: to be wanted and cared for, even if few ever express it through traditional means. 
“Not this again,” you groan. “You don’t get it.”
"Oh, but I do." Corinthian's head tips to the side, facing away from you. You haven't noticed the miniature wooden piece in his other hand until his blade starts scoring through the wood. "You don't want to consider your existence. So instead, you shove everything happening to you to the side in some vain hope that it won't hurt you if you wait long enough. Tsk, tsk."
Metal scrapes on wood again; louder, with more force, small wooden shavings scattering near your feet. Corinthian turns to face you again, leaning closer, your distorted reflection visible in his shades. “But memories have teeth, Wanderer,” he continues playfully. “They always come back to bite.”
You offer him a flat, unamused stare. “Trying to freak me out? Or just being purposely annoying?”
He grins brightly, all teeth visible, one side of his mouth crooking slightly further than the other. “I’m a nightmare, darling. It’s in the job description.”
Rolling your eyes, you lift your book back over your face, his words swimming in your head. 
“Annoying, it is.” 
Silence blankets the clearing for a while. Miniature daisies curl around your palm where it rests on the warm ground. It doesn’t escape your heed that everything in Fiddler’s Green shrinks away from Corinthian. Everyone, everywhere, shrinks away from him. Even amongst other nightmares, he has distinct energy that separates him from the rest; bold, defiant, and destructive.
Frowning, you drop the book back over your chest, gazing up at him. Corinthian’s head rests slanted to one side, focused entirely on his work. You’ve seen him partake in woodcraft often in recent years, but only ever in private. It settles him. This way, he manages to keep his mind and hands busy. During instances like these, away from everything, Corinthian appears almost human. As if whatever cruelty he indulges in so often takes a rest during these times. 
“Come with me to the celebration,” you say abruptly. “It won’t kill you to be nice for a change.”
The nightmare pauses mid-scratch. Corinthian carefully considers his handiwork, blowing away the wood dust with deliberate slowness. “I’m very nice,” he retorts. “See.”
He throws the object at you. You scramble, the wooden figurine almost hitting you in the chest. Shooting him a glare, you roll the smooth wood in your hand. It’s warm to the touch. 
Miniature Corinthian stares back at you. With a gleeful grin stretched wide, glasses on, and a wooden hat over the nightmare’s head. The details are immaculate. Lovely. Somehow the thought he’s created this from nothing brings a smile to your face. So, not just a nightmare, huh? 
You offer the nightmare a toothy, teasing grin. “He’s cute. Could use some friends, though.”
You toss it back at him. Unlike you, Corinthian catches the figurine smoothly, twisting it between his digits with a considerate hum.
“Friends.” There’s an abrasive edge to the way he articulates the word. “What a thought. Catch.”
You’re ready this time, but at no point did you catch him taking out a second figurine. Your mouth parts, speechless. 
“This is…”
It's you. Your likeness has been shrunk to fit inside your hand—a tight knot forms in your throat. You've never had someone do something like this for you. The curse repeatedly destroys any traces of you. Fires, floods, diseases, wars. You've never been allowed to exist. Not in any significant way, anyway. But this is special—proof, as good as any, that you're real.
Wordlessly, you sit up, reaching over to hand him back the figurine. 
“What?” he bites out. “Don't you like it?”
You want to smile at the prickly offence in his voice. 
“I love it,” you insist. You nimbly grab the figurine Corinthian made of himself and shove it in your pocket, wiggling your brows. “But you hold onto mine, and I’ll hold onto yours. That’s what friends would do.”
You plop down on the ground, stretching your legs more comfortably over his lip. Corinthian doesn’t stir. Time glides leisurely, weaving a tapestry of tranquillity: you read, Corinthian whittles a new piece. When you’re out there in the universe, it’s memories like this one you armour yourself with. 
“Can I ask you something?”
Corinthian doesn’t pause in his work. “You just did.”
You lift onto one elbow. “Why do you wear your glasses around me? You know your eyes don’t scare me.”
Even the mini replica of him has glasses on. Is he worried they make you uncomfortable? After five hundred years, few things can unsettle you anymore. 
“I do. But I wasn’t born. I was made.” There’s weight to how he phrases it. Purposeful, premeditated. “The first time I became aware of my existence, I saw two things. Him, Dream of the Endless, my creator, and… you. The only one who never flinched away. Funny that.”
You lift a curious brow. “Funny how?”
A slight, mean grin edges Corinthian’s mouth. “Surely you’ve noticed? How many others around here look like me? Like you?”
Wind rustles your clothes, wrapping around your wrists and shoulders. Maybe it’s Fiddler Green’s approach in discouraging you from this conversation. But you’re not leaving. And you understand what the nightmare is trying to convey, what he’s suggesting between the lines. 
That on some level—subconscious or otherwise—Dream crafted Corinthian in your image. The parallels are too significant. Your shared human attributes. A cursed human. A nightmare. Differing forms of misery. Forever. 
You witnessed Corinthian's creation. He's been special to you ever since. Those jagged teeth for eyes or his corrupt nature never bothered you. At least not as much as others believed it should. 
“Corinthian—”
“Hey kid, there you are,” a voice grouses through the clearing, striding hurriedly in your direction. “Geez. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Oh. Corinthian.”
Merv freezes the second the nightmare comes into view; branches and your body have kept him mostly from sight until now. 
Clearing your throat, you raise your hand in a casual wave. “Hey, Merv.”
The pumpkin head balances on his heels, awkwardly looking around the clearing. “Uh, the big boss wants you back at the castle, kid,” the caretaker informs, pointing his thumb behind him. Back in the castle’s direction. “You’re the honoured guest tonight, so….”
Dream must be otherwise occupied if he didn’t come to collect you himself, considering he can pin your down in a mere second usually. 
“Better run along,” Corinthian shoos, leaning back to get more comfortable. His hands are empty in his lap, and it doesn’t escape your notice. 
You won’t be able to continue your conversation now; that is clear. Admitting silent defeat, you struggle back onto your feet, stretching. You tuck the leather-bound book under your arm, turning to go. 
“Oh, and Wanderer?” You pause at Corihtian’s deliberately sweet call. In your peripheral, Merv’s features spasm with irritation. The nightmare grins when you turn back towards him. “Happy Dreamfall. May the Fates smile upon you.”
The nightmare’s hands clasp together lightly in mock prayer, and you shake your head. Leave it to him to ridicule human religion. 
“You can’t bribe three-in-one for good fortune, Cori,” you tell him, equally as saccharine. “It doesn't work like that.”
“The veil between Worlds will be thin tonight,” he says lightly, all innocence, shrouding something darker beneath. “You never know.”
.
“You should be back at the castle, enjoying the festivities.”
Waves lap against the shores of the Dreaming, all things unstirring and still around you. It’s so quiet here. Even your breaths echo. Dreams and nightmares alike are celebrating. Tonight, their home is the centre of the cosmos. It’s dense in the air—that thrumming power raw imagination holds, building and swelling with the inky waves. You sit perched in the grainy, dark sand, your fingers dug in deep. A light breeze stirs beside you, and the Dream King’s dark coat whispers over your hand. 
On this night, his overcoat is edged with glimmering golden flame at the hem, flaring brighter with each faint movement. Dream of the Endless at his true, unsuppressed power. The universe is paying tribute to his domain tonight. Your skin tingles at the oozing power radiating from him in such close proximity. 
However, the answer to his reserved observation comes quickly: “Couldn’t miss this view.”
Light beams swirl in a multicoloured kaleidoscope through the inky sky above. Falling, falling, falling; swimming and floating. Dreams; pulsing and spinning through the lonely, silent universe to here. Their anchor place.
Dreamfall. An apt name indeed. You’re dizzy, stunned, and incredibly humbled just witnessing it. Has any other human been given such privilege? 
“How many do you think there are?” you whisper. 
“Billions.”
Dream’s voice is a gentle, deep caress beside you. Self-possessed as if he’s counted each one himself. 
Your palm drags mindlessly through the dark sands, each grain sifting through your fingers. Dream Lord jolts at your side, breathing out deeply, but you don’t pay his odd reaction mind, settling into pensive silence. 
“Can you see them?” you ask thoughtfully. “Individually?”
“See them, feel them,” Dream lists passively. His fingers outstretch slowly, aiming towards the boundless black water—no, towards the skies, towards living tendrils of joy and light dancing through the dark. “I need not take them. For they are all… right… here.”
A glow kindles in his open palm, muted, soothing light. It flutters; quivering wings of a scared bird, then settles, safe in Dream’s protective hold, forming a small sphere. A gasp climbs up your throat, but you swallow it down, jumping to your feet and brushing the sand off your palms as you go. 
A woman’s figure moves in the smokey image. She’s cradling a tiny bundle in her arms, her nose brushing over the child’s nose lovingly. It’s a nurturing, beautiful scene. One to leave your heart aching with longing. 
“That’s incredible.” Stepping closer, you reach to touch the glowing globe, but stop yourself last moment. No. There’s no knowing what it would do to this woman if someone like you infringed on her dream. Your fingers shrink backwards, falling back to your side, each digit curling loosely. Dream tracks the gesture intently, his features drawn, so you force lightness into your following words, “For all the splendours in this universe, the Dreaming still manages to delight me the most.”
Dream Lord’s thumb skims over the glowing sphere. Then he extends his arm and blows gently. Like his sand, the dream skips and floats away, soon all but lost in the infinite array of colours. 
“On this night, all living things dream,” he murmurs, concentrating solely on the descending lights. “And those dreams all traverse the universe to find their way home. To the Dreaming. What is it?”
You blink, realising you’ve been caught staring. “It’s just… over five hundred years,” you begin with a small smile. “I thought I’d have you all figured out by now, but you keep surprising me.”
Dream’s chin slants in a slight nod—regal even in these tiniest gestures. For a second, you wonder if you glimpse a sliver of amusement, but you blink, and it’s gone. “Likewise, Wanderer.”
You stand side by side, observing the vivid display. Dream’s features are, for once, relaxed. Softer than usual. 
“You love them,” you choke out, startled by the piercing realisation. “Humanity. Then why…”
He’s gone incredibly still beside you. “Why what?”
Despite the direct prompt, your mouth remains closed. A thousand thoughts swarm through your head. All this time, you had it so wrong. Dream Lord’s stoic, often cold, mien. Even his duty he so uncompromising places first. 
“You look lonely, Dream.”
It slips out before you can give it much thought, talk yourself out of voicing it. You’ve seen how Dream handles such observations. How any label or implication sets his jaw and ignites an ancient flame in him. There’s a reason you’ve never defined your relationship or so much as tried to. Equal parts fear how he would take it—and more painfully—the thought he would admit you mean nothing. 
But Dream Lord is lonely. It’s written in every corner of his handsome, imposing face. Displayed naked and vulnerable in the way he watches these dreams. Such fierce devotion and a need to understand them, even when he struggles with the complexities of humanity. 
“I was wrong about you,” you rush ahead in a whisper, noting the slow spreading coldness painting over his features. “I once thought you didn’t care at all. That you’re above it all. But now I realise just how much you do care.”
Chuckling under your breath, you mentally reabsorb the years you’ve spent by his side. With such crushing responsibility, Dream acts a certain way for a reason. 
“But to have the collective consciousness of all living beings resting on your shoulders… I can’t imagine it.” You shake your head slowly from side to side. A small, sad smile pulls at your lips. “Your sense of duty to them is stronger than anything else. So it’s easier to not show anything. To anyone. Easier to lock it all down.”
Dream displays no outward reaction to your comments. His stare, however, burns into you, simmering with some hidden, potent emotion you can’t decipher no matter how hard you try. “You created this for them,” you conclude fondly, glancing around you. “The Dreaming is your gift to life, to humanity.”
Your heart inflates, stray breaths escaping your parted lips. The coldness and the prickly displeasure have waned from his demeanour with your speech, leaving Dream Lord mute at your side. His quietude fills in all the blanks, melancholic as it is. 
There’s nothing more lonely than endless existence. You’re starting to learn as much intimately. 
"I'm merely abiding by the Old Laws," he says lastly. "Anything is possible here. Let me show you."
Confusion must show on your face because Dream inclines his head towards the pier to your right. 
“What are we doing?” you question, following after him. 
The hem shimmers with Dream's steady gait, illuminating the path ahead. He stalls at the edge of the dock, water beyond stretching as far as the eye can see. 
“Creating.”
“Uh, what?” Understanding sinks in at his deliberate glance. “Dream, I… I can’t dream. I can’t create anything here.”
“You need only to imagine it,” he says. “I will do the rest.”
He gestures for you to take his place. Your feet brush over the pier’s edge hesitantly. You don’t dare to look below. Those depths are treacherous to anyone who isn’t this realm’s creator. 
“How will you know what’s in my head?”
Dream Lord’s presence whispers against your back. His fingers are light when they settle on your shoulder. “When it comes to dreams, I always know.”
You huff. “Fine, show off.” 
“Clear your mind,” he instructs promptly. Not like you expected him to humour you. “Here, tonight, anything is possible.” 
Keeping one hand on your shoulder, Dream raises his other arm, digits extended; relaxed, elegant. With a soft rasp from Dream Prince’s lips, power surges in the air, “We begin… with a spin.”
Dream Lord’s wrist rotates, everything in sight ceasing for a heartbeat, and then the world shifts.
Water plunges inwards, forming a whirlpool, cool spray hitting your skin with a powerful gust. A startled breath wooshes from your lungs, peering down at the ravine wide-eyed. 
You’re not afraid, though. You’re mesmerised. “What should I do?” 
He hears you even over the roaring water. “Change the world,” Dream whispers behind you. The way he says those words makes you believe you can do anything. “Imagine you are free. Visualise it. What do you see?”
“There’s a small island.” The vision springs to mind instantly, shining brightly in your mind’s eye. “Grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And… it tastes like sour apples.”
“Are you, by any chance, hungry, Wanderer?”
If you didn’t know any better, you would presume he’s teasing you. 
A breathless laugh escapes you. “Shh. I’m focusing.”
The island trickles back into your thoughts, fragments stringing together. 
“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, trees never shed leaves, and the sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. An old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive.”
And as you speak it, Dream’s fingers trail over the horizon, weaving and creating what you’re relating. 
“A friend.” He sounds contemplative, with faint curiosity lacing his timber. “Not family or a lover?”
“Not everyone has family, and not everyone needs a lover,” you clarify. Each word wobbles, caught in a spell of his creation. “But everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. There’s only…”
“... hope.”
You nod at his hushed conclusion in your ear. Dream’s palm closes gently, forming a fist. The Dreaming exhales, his other hand slips off your shoulder, and in the far distance, an island shudders in the water, settling. Waves slosh loudly, beating against the dock, smoothing into crystal clear moments later. 
Your eyes burn as you stare unblinking at the unassuming island.
“Why do you weep, Wanderer?”
You tuck your face in your elbow instinctively, chuckling thickly. 
"This, no, it's... uh… thank you." Each word cracks with emotion as you mumble the words. Scrubbing your palm over your eyes, you smile softly. "Thank you so much for this."
“You need not thank me,” Dream states, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “The island is now part of the Dreaming. And whenever a soul finds themselves alone or in need of that comfort, they shall find their way here. It came from you.”
Does he have any idea how precious this is to you? No words in any tongue could adequately capture how deeply this settles in your soul. You exist. You’re real. The figurine in your pocket and the island visible in the distance are indisputable proof of that. He’s been a constant, a terrible shelter, for so long. But with this, he’s knitted himself in your marrow until your dying breath. 
“Sit with me?” You settle down without preamble, your legs dangling over the edge. You never want this night to end. “Just for a little while,” you add quietly. 
Dream lowers his head in consideration. Much to your unspoken surprise, his limbs fold elegantly beneath him, the golden edges of his coat pooling around him. 
Your head drops back, watching the falling dreams. He does the same. 
You don’t speak, and neither does he. Neither of you needs to. 
Everything that ought to be said is expressed in the comforting stillness between you. 
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an: personal hdc is that before Corinthian escaped into the human world to wreak havoc, he had other ways to keep himself busy heh.
also, be sure to savour the happiness because it sure isn't going to last : )
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bfbkg · 1 year
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ccu! universe where everyone’s either in yn or bkgs room all hanging out cozy and shit. Each of ur friend groups get along so well and it’s like a lil drinking/game night. sm fun and lots of love in the room. But like idiots to spice it up u play truth or dare or something. Yn’s bestie daring u to give bkg a lap dance or some shit everyone going “oooooh” but ur bold asf and actually do it creating hella tension. I see bkg being a lil embarrassed w this typa pda but ur so willingly claiming him he can’t help but be into it I thinks!!!!
- babes anon
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ccu! (set before they’ve been intimate with each other, only kissed by this point)
— suggestive, your friend/todoroki action
bakugou has no clue how everyone managed to find their way into his room (when he just wanted you), nor how everyone managed to find themselves in a makeshift circle to play truth or dare. he’s only played truth or dare once in his life, when he was fourteen and the dares were either to climb a tree and jump or a truth to say who he had a crush on. granted, the last one would still work now at his big age but all the dares have now taken a turn.
a few of your friends and his are lightly tipsy from a cocktail downstairs and nobody is ignoring the way your friend and todoroki keep staring at each other, which is why it’s no surprise when the bottle spins and lands on the man, you practically demand him, “kiss f/n. make it good.”
bakugou likes you a lot. he likes how you love a little bit of drama, how you say what you think when you feel safe and he likes how when you smile it shines through each of your features. his crush is huge.
your friend is already spluttering away, pushing you on your side as you giggle and saying to todoroki, “you don’t have to do it, you can just do something else—,��
todoroki’s calm, “no, i’ll do it.”
your friend freezes, eyes on the man as he walks over and pulls her up to her feet. there’s eye contact, a lot of eye contact, until kaminari says, “for fuck sake come on!”
it’s your friend that pulls todoroki’s face to hers and the room is filled with giggles and laughter and manly woops for their friend. until the sounds die down because they’re truly going at it. his hand is under her top, her fingers are clutching at his hair. there’s tongue involved and todoroki doesn’t even notice how he manoeuvres her against the wall. the kiss is wet and heavy and your hands are flying to your mouth while the boys eyes widen.
you hit her leg, “okay! it was just supposed to be a kiss. not creating a porno!”
todoroki is flushed the deepest red any of the boys have ever seen on him. he never blushes, they don’t think he’s ever been embarrassed in his life but he is as he breaks away from your friend and settles back down in the circle.
your friend is the same, desperate to get the attention off her, though there’s a smile biting at her cheeks. she spins the bottle and it lands on you.
you grin, hugging your knees to your chest. “dare.”
“okay yn i dare you to give this person a lap dance.”
“seriously!? i give you a kiss and i have to do all of that?!”
everyone’s eyes drag to the spinning bottle stopping right between bakugou and kaminari.
before it’s even completely still, bakugou’s blurting, “it’s me.”
“hey!” kaminari shouts and everyone begins to laugh.
you decide to play with your blonde a little, “i don’t know katsuki, it’s equal between you both.”
bakugou narrows his eyes at you, he knows what you’re doing. so he grips the bottle in his hand and makes it point directly at him, “now it’s on me.”
“you can’t just do that, bro!” but kaminari’s whine is lost as you’re already standing up with a predatory look in your eye. bakugou’s never been on the opposite side to a look like that and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.
you nudge your head to one of his chairs , “sit there. also someone put music on. it’s awkward if i do it in silence.”
bakugou scrambles get off the floor and onto the chair, evoking the laughter from his friends already aware of the crush he’s got in you. he sends them a middle finger when your back’s turned and when you’re looking at him again he tries to play indifference.
“c’mon lets get this over with.”
your raise your eyebrows, hands sliding over his shoulders, “don’t lie to me katsuki.”
and you say it in a way that feels like you know everything he’s thinking and has ever thought about you. honestly, it’s not like he hides it well.
he had no time to reply because the music starts and there’s cheering from your friends.
then you begin your performance. you’re a mixture of sexy but aware of the audience, smiling like it could be played off as a joke though you know what you’re doing. shaking your ass in his face, slapping his hands when he tries to touch you. grinding down on his lap and looking over your shoulder to see him looking at your ass on him. you even turn around to straddle his lap, grinding with your breasts pressed to his upper chest. you don’t kiss him, just brushing your lips over his ears and neck and you feel him rumble with pleasure. you hop off when you feel him start to harden, giggles spilling from your lips. you’re in time, in rhythm and bakugou completely forgets about everyone watching. focusing just how your hips look in his face and the feel of your hands on his skin and he’s desperate to pull you in for a kiss.
a low “fuck” passes his lips when you slowly get down on your knees and brush your hands over his thighs, opening his legs so your head is right by his groin.
“do you like this katsuki?” and you’re so beautiful, eyes wide and he wants send everyone out and flip you on your stomach on his bed.
“y-yeah, i do,” he’s so clearly turned on, rattled by your every movement that you decide to end it there.
you slap his thighs with finality, standing back up. he won’t break your eye contact though, he’s staring you down and you can read what he wants through his eyes. you want it too. though you poke his forehead, “we’re finished, pretty boy.”
your friends all chuckle at his expression, snapping out of his cloud of you.
“fuck,” he grunts, rubbing his face with his palm before sitting back down in the circle.
you choose to sit beside him though, thighs pressed against his. everyone’s still laughing at how much bakugou enjoyed your performance and youre about to reply to a comment when he whispers in your ear, “you’re not gonna get away with that.”
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izzymarksthespot · 1 month
Text
There's been an idea rattling around in my head, vaguely inspired by this post (can't find the original for the life of me): angsty Steddyhands/Stizzy/Gentlebeard soulmate au, where you cannot physically hurt your soulmate - as in your body simply won't let you.
Prepare yourself, this is a long one.
Izzy, increasingly irked and unsettled by Bonnet's influence on his captain, challanges him to a duel like in s1e8. Stede accepts, the duel commences - but as it goes on Izzy cannot shake the feeling of wrong wrong wrong which follows, making his movements sluggish, blows weaker and heartbeat fast and anxious.
Finally, he has Bonnet pinned - only when he tries to run the other man through with his sword, he can't do it. He freezes mid-thrust, muscles of his sword hand seizing, the blade of the rapier an inch away from the blonde's stomach. They stare at each other in shock, and soon commotion starts as the crew tries to see what exactly is going on, and did Izzy actually stab the captain? Ed hovers over them both in panic and confusion.
Izzy drops his sword at his captains prompting, and backs away with a "What the fuck did you do to me, you bastard?!" aimed at an equally flabbergasted Stede. While they bitch at each other, the crew wonder aloud what has happened and how odd it was that Izzy just froze (Izzy's never done that before!), and Lucius goes with a mocking "aww, Iggy actually likes the captain and doesn't want him hurt, how sweet!"
Buttons comes around then, takes in the scene, eyes Izzy with an unreadable expression, and goes "Nay, Mister Spriggs, more like cannae bring hisself to. I reckon 's only one reason fer it."
Everyone's like 🤨🤨 and Izzy's about to retort something scathing and awful, but suddenly he gets an inkling in the back of his head, a flash of a memory and words actually fail to come out of his mouth.
And Buttons just easily goes with "you cannae hurt yer soulmate, can ya?" and all hell breaks loose. Obviously everyone is laughing the idea off, cause come on, Stede and Izzy? There is no way, what an idiotic idea! Buttons, no more moonbathing for you, you're talking more nonsense than ever!
Both interested parties are strangely quiet though.
Frenchie - who's well informed on the soulmate matter, ofc - suggests they can simply test it out: all Stede and Izzy have to do is touch (skin to skin) to see if the soul marks appear.
Before either Stede or Izzy can reject that idea, it's Ed who does, there will be no fucking checking or touching; there's an aura of danger coming off of him in droves and his dark eyes are trained solely on Izzy.
Long story short, he throws Izzy off the ship (figuratively, just orders him to leave), Izzy's hurt and sells out Stede to the British (the only soulmate he has is Blackbeard and he wants him back), the whole shenanigans with act of grace still happen - Stede still leaves Ed and goes back to Bridgetown; and Ed spirals even harder in his absence because now he additionally thinks Stede left cause they're not soulmates (Stede actually could and did run him through with his sword, and if they were he wouldn't be able to, would he?)
He goes into the Kraken mode, taking most of his anger and hurt onto the person who is obviously responsible for this - Izzy.
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veala2 · 6 months
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“ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ.”
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fluff prompt: “I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite.”
SYNOPSIS - After joining the Whitebeard pirates, you start to lose the sense of belonging you once had, only thinking of yourself as the “non- favourite.” Ace quickly reminds you something you should have realized sooner than later.
CW - gn!reader, could be either seen as romantic or platonic, up to you, angst but ends up fluffy as hell.
A/N - works killing me, but I managed to find the time to make this. I have a soft spot for writing Ace because he’s so damn cute!
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“Y’know, I think the old man is going easy on us.”
The wind blew gently through the air of the hilltops that you’ve been travelling through with your pirate partner, 2nd commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Ace. It had been about a year since the two of you met, after joining Whitebeard at his request.
The two of you often got sent on missions where you defeat certain pests that Whitebeard wants to “shut up”, as he would say.
In turn with you helping him in battle (and other things where he might be challenged), he trains you to be stronger and defend yourself in the heat of battle. It’s a win- win!
Despite how smoothly your life has been going so far, you’ve been starting to feel… out of place, compared to your fellow crew members. They never treated you poorly or made you feel less than, oh no! Everybody was kind and caring.
But, when you come back to the crew laughing and drinking with Pops or when Marco would joke that Pops had favourite kids, your stomach unintentionally drops. Making you question yourself.
Was it insecurity? Or did everyone not care for you?
Anyways, after having defeated a particularly easy opponent, you and Ace decided to take the long, nice way back to where your mini- ship had docked. Taking in the scenic route.
“He’s just mad. Probably ‘cause you kept making those ancient jokes last week.”
You said, kicking a lone rock on the path you took. He heartily laughed, throwing his head back.
“Ah, but it was funny! Everyone laughed, including him. Besides, I’m his favourite, he won’t stay mad forever. Y’know?” He smirked, turning his head towards you.
Despite his antics, you couldn’t help but agree. Sure, the emperor loves all his children the same, but there was something about Ace that made him treat him differently. Maybe it was that shiny, raven hair or devil- may-care smile, you jokingly thought. Either way, having favourites was not a new topic.
“Yeah, none of us are as lucky as you, Portgas. Being the favourite must be nice.” you confessed.
His usual carefree smile turned into a frown, noticing your now sad face. He stepped in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, stopping you and forcing you to look up into his warm eyes.
“Hey, you know that it was just a joke, right? The old man hates and loves us equally.” He chuckled, trying to make your face break. Which it did.
“I know. Just… kind of wouldn’t mind being someone’s preference.” You said, exasperated. Continuing to trek down the path. Ace scoffed, catching up to you.
“Y/N, you act as if you aren’t my favourite!” He exclaims, a bit annoyed.
You paused, stopping in your tracks. Turning to him with a quizzical yet intrigued expression. Almost like you trying and wanting to believe him.
“No! Give me a break, Ace, you're just saying that.”
He’s taken aback. Both with your words and the glossy look starting to form in your eyes. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, and like a frustrated toddler trying to explain his emotions.
“I’m serious! I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite person.” His voice is only a decimal short of yelling, as he puts his hand up in the air.
“You’re up here with my brother, I swear! There’s a reason why I didn’t reject Pop’s telling me you have to come on missions too, and that’s because I enjoy your company and you. You’re kind, thoughtful and smart, that’s why he paired his idiot son with you,” He says, pointing to himself.
“Look, what I’m trying to say is: everybody goes lower ‘cause you're my favourite, and there’s no other explanation. I’ve always cared about you and forever wi-“
A swift wrapping of your arms around his body shuts him up. You squeeze tightly, as to disguise your overcome emotions. He doesn’t say anything, simply reciprocating the hug. Letting you enjoy his warmth.
“… Thanks, Ace…” You whispered, not being able to get anything else out. He welcomed you, patting your back gently but firmly.
“Don’t mention it. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back. My favourite person deserves it after kicking ass today.” He laughs, giving a toothy grin. With that, he kneels down in front of you. Arms reaching behind him to hold you in place. You blushed, not used to the sudden act of affection the man was displaying.
“Oh, by the way,” He starts, adjusting to you on his back, “Don’t think we all don’t think the same. Trust me, Marco and Izou will hound me if you get a single scratch, they always worry about you. Especially Pops.”
The sinking feeling that had once been had changed into warmth. Ace’s kind warmth.
“Thanks, Ace. Just so you know, you’re my favourite, too.”
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195 notes · View notes
ohkkotsuu · 7 months
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𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒! utahime iori.
ৎ୭ PAIRING: utahime iori x f!reader (she/her pronouns, afab anatomy)
ৎ୭ ABOUT: you and your boyfriend, satoru gojo, have been fighting for a while now. he has been paying too much attention to other girls, breaking your heart and ignoring your needs. when it gets back to utahime, she sees the opportunity to help you, like a good veteran.
ৎ୭ CW/TW: [ NSFW ]. college au/no curses au, cheating (reader cheats on satoru, implications he cheated too), reader is multi, shoko is a bad friend to satoru here i think?? she and utahime talk about fucking you. geto flirted with you (off-screen). utahime is head over heels for you without even noticing. tbh gojo is a bit of a jerk here, but everyone acts like jerk, ngl. utahime was originally going to do it out of petty revenge but she really started to like you. there's a gay vibe between shoko and utahime (they joke about a three way with you), and between gojo and geto. everyone is kinda multi implied. everyone is on college (around 21-26)! reader is a sophomore, gojo is a junior, utahime is a senior. honorary mentions: nanami is a freshman, geto is a junior, shoko is a junior. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I'M NOT A GOOD SMUT WRITER, I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS — this is my first time writing anything along these lines (smut) im sweating buckets, not proofread
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PORN WITHOUT MUCH PLOT; fingering, facesitting, 69, mentions of previous sex (among reader and gojo), exhibitionism, possessive behavior (utahime towards reader), praise/worship kink, getting caught, a bit of cuckolding?? nicknames (pretty, darling, princess, lovely, angel).
#TAGGING: @maisieisbae • thanks for your support! <3
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UTAHIME was sure that living with satoru gojo was a kind of divine penance. payment for crimes she committed in a past life. there is no other explanation for how terrible it is to have to deal with a man like him.
and it only got worse when satoru gojo, the worst man she's ever known, got a new girlfriend. you. and oh, you. you were perfect — you are perfect, but you're gojo's. he doesn't let anyone forget, and that makes utahime angrier than any of his lame jokes.
because he could never do you justice.
the first time utahime saw you, she reluctantly found herself at a party she didn't even wanted to attend. that's what she gets for betting against shoko on poker night (she always wins, after all). however, she made the most of the situation by settling into a cozy corner, sipping on her drink while chatting with shoko about anything on mind. exams, people being jerks, the hot girl shoko wants to call, — and utahime's motivational support was important, of course — anything, really.
from her secluded spot, she couldn't help but observe her younger peers recklessly flirting, which added to her growing disdain for the party. she just wanted to de-stress from exam week, but the environment only added to her headache. she was ready to punch any idiot if they made a move on her or her friend. prying eyes and drunken men quickly turned away from the woman's aggressive gaze, making shoko laugh.
as she scanned the room, utahime noticed a familiar face — geto, one of the popular idiots (as she sweetly called them), talking to a group of girls. his flirtatious attitude is usual, what is unusual to see him without his equally well-liked best friend. that damn satoru gojo. utahime couldn't help but feel curious about why he was alone this time. it was strange not to see the partners in crime together.
“is gojo fuckin’ a girl on the second floor or something?” she asks curiously, making shoko raise an eyebrow. “the trash there is all alone.”
shoko giggles, snatching utahime's drink from her hand, earning some protests of her, to take a sip. the alcohol burns in her throat, but she loves anything that burns after all. she stares at her friend and shakes her head no.
“haven't you heard? satoru got a new girlfriend. real cutie.” utahime finds herself interested, tilting her head to encourage her friend to continue. and speaking the truth this time. “okay, you got me. she's hot. like, I mean it. not going to lie, got me really jealous. she's just my type.”
“you got any pictures?”
while shoko searches which coat pocket her cell phone is in (she can never find it at first try), utahime watches who enters through the door. she scowls, rolling her eyes. speak of the devil — satoru gojo himself, but he's not alone. utahime doesn't expect much as he pulls whoever it is along with him to join the party, heading to the dance floor.
gojo always has a girl, or more than one, around him. he is like a light bulb, effortlessly bringing the moths to him. be a girlfriend, fling, sneaky links. it is never lasting. he's the kind of asshole who won't settle for just one girl, and ends up breaking the hearts of several and just disappearing. sometimes he and the other trash (geto) seem to forget they're in public, and act like two hormonal assholes with those girls.
honestly, utahime doesn't know why so many girls find them attractive. what's so special about them? for her, they're cute at best. physical appearance does not make up for the fuckboy attitude. instead of settling down for guys who would care for them, take them on dates — like that freshman, nanami, the kind blonde —, they choose to run after whoever will break their hearts after a good fuck.
then, she sees you. oh, you— good lord. utahime can't help but stare at every step you take, arm in arm with your boyfriend, with him grinning from ear to ear as he guides you through the party. you are the most beautiful girl she has ever seen. with a sweet smile, well-done makeup, in a tight party dress — holy fucking crist. she doesn't even realize that her jaw has dropped or that she's in a trance until shoko nudges her.
“told you.” she has a smirk on her face, and utahime can feel her face heating up in jealousy. “pretty, isn't she?”
“pretty is an understatement. c'mon. what is she doing with a stupid fuck like gojo, anyway? damn, that dress. i can see her thighs.” iori watches you from afar, as your boyfriend asks drinks for the two of you. “how long have they been together?”
shoko thinks for a moment, rummaging through her phone. utahime peeks over her shoulder and she can see that she is searching for your instagram page.
“two months, i think?” shoko laughs when her friend let out an impressed whistle. “It's a new record for satoru, I know, but damn. a girl like that, I would also be with for long. check her insta.”
utahime blames the redness of her cheeks on alcohol. while shoko shows her your page full of selfies, she has to restrain herself from picking up her cell phone and immediately following you. there are so many pictures — pictures of you in baggy pajamas, chilling at home with your boyfriend. bikini photos at the beach or pool. a photo at night, in the stars. and you're so, so pretty in all of them. god damn satoru gojo. always getting the best out of the best.
“don't even look at me with that face, I haven't tasted her, and I won't.” shoko says with a pout. utahime's eyes are still focused on her phone — she's liking a picture of you in a bikini, in what seems to be satoru's house for a pool party.
“what do you mean?”
the music at the party background seems irrelevant. after seeing you, utahime can only hear her own heart hammering in her chest. goddamit, she thinks. im acting like the trash.
“y’know, satoru is always sharing his girls with suguru. they never invite me, though, those assholes.” she says without much resentment, shrugging. “I had asked to go along this time, only that suguru told me that he asked to have her too, and satoru wouldn't let him.”
“you're kidding.” utahime says, shocked. that can't be true. shoko laughs.
“I know, right? they share everything. but i think satoru really likes this one. he doesn't want to leave anything to geto. or me.”
utahime turns her head to see you again. the beautiful girlfriend of satoru gojo. who's actually being ignored as mentioned jerk is paying more attention to his phone than to his girlfriend. utahime feels anger burning inside of her. if she had a girlfriend like you nothing could hold her attention.
“you wanna hit it? i think she's very faithful, so you might wanna avoid being direct.”
“oh, please, shoko.” utahime crosses her arms. “she's that idiot's girlfriend. she will be unhappy with him, look at her face, she's unhappy already. every unhappy woman can use a helping hand, can't she?” both of them smirk at that. “besides, he seems to be getting tired of her already. two months is too much for him. the biggest commitment gojo ever made was a tiny tattoo or something.”
shoko laughs at that. “true, true. why don't you invite her over? i have her number.” she says in a sing-song voice, but utahime shakes her head no.
“i have a better idea, but thanks.”
ieiri just shrugs and smiles at her. the partners on crime can be terrible, but these two know how to misbehave too.
“any chance you invite me, too? three is much better than two, huh?” utahime gives her a light push as a joke, and they both laugh. she looks at you again, smirking slightly, more to herself than to anyone else.
“nah. veterans first.”
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utahime's plan actually starts with a simple motive: petty revenge. gojo is the worst of all juniors — since she was a sophomore and he was a freshman, she had no peace. unfortunately, the coming of shoko on her life brought the coming of this imbecile along with her.
there were always reasons for satoru's jokes or mockings. he had this constant joking tone, but she understood how cruel he could be. always bragging about his perfect grades, his good results in sports, how he managed to be captain of the debate club before she could, and of course, bragging about how he could get good pussy without lifting a finger. he had no respect for seniors (or any authority figure, frankly), especially utahime. so teaching him a lesson was the only necessary way to sent a message.
It started in a cliche but simple way. you were at the library, having trouble looking up a stupidly specific book — needed in a research essay required by one of your classes. the library index looked more disorganized than anything, although it's function is exactly the opposite.
it would take half of an afternoon just to find the research materials, and who knows how long to get everything you needed for the essay. not to mention sitting down and writing it all down.
“do you need help?” you hear a voice calling from behind you. you turn on your heels to see a woman. you recognize her. is that woman who is always with shoko, satoru's friend.
“that would be lovely, thanks.” you smile, and she moves close to you to offer assistance. “you're a senior, right? utahime? thanks for the help.”
she nods. god, you're so sweet, she thinks. satoru doesn't deserve you. you introduce yourself quickly and she smiles at you. after a good few minutes of searching and casual conversation, she pokes your shoulder.
“so, this is what you're looking for?” she hands you a heavy book.
“yes! that's it! oh, thank you. you just saved my life on this essay.” she giggles, giving you a reassuring nod.
“hey, no worries. that subject was hell when I was a sophomore. but im good at it now.” she puts her hands on her hips. “are you having difficulties? I can be your tutor, no problem. you don't even have to pay me. courtesy to a friend of shoko's.”
your smile widens, and iori swears her heart skips a beat. in fact, the idea was perfect. satoru and you have been fighting over the last few weeks with the attention he's been giving to random girls (usually in miniskirts). shoko is busy always studying or cheating, and geto — well, he's geto. satoru's best friend who will always side with gojo. so things have been lonely around your house.
plus you know utahime is one of the best in her class. a veteran's help that fell for you at the right time, like a gift from heaven.
“i would be very happy about it, actually. thank you so much! wait, take my number. let's schedule it on days when you're free, okay?”
“uh-huh. perfect.” utahime feels herself smiling like a fool while you exchange phone numbers.
it was the beginning. the preparation of the land. now utahime had to move on to the next part.
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tutoring took place every wednesday night. a day you originally planned to spend with satoru at the beginning of your relationship, full of dates and romantic promises — until he starts to get tired. being late for dates, not showing up to them, being seen or photographed at some party instead. then wednesdays nights as a couple just stopped happening. the frequency was decreasing until it stopped completely. you don't even want to see satoru's face after your last fight. he's been acting like a jealous asshole, freaking out at anyone who talks to you. when you try to do the same, he acts like you're insane.
this is one of the concerns you share with utahime. it's been almost five weeks since she's been helping you with the subject — she was the first person you told about your straight A on the essay —, and you have become close. she carries your stuff sometimes, walks you around campus. you text each other late into the night, laughing over silly cat videos or talking about preferences. she's not just a tutor or a senior, she's your friend.
she is a much better listener than satoru. especially in recent times. he rarely visits your apartment now, and you're giving him the cold shoulder. you even started avoiding geto, not wanting to hear through him how your boyfriend is sorry and he is going to change or whatever mess he makes up this time. utahime is the first one you share everything with now. she is happy for her achievements, celebrates with you for them. she's always checking up on you — if you are drinking water, resting. if you can't sleep, she calls you during the night and you laugh until you pass out from tiredness. she makes your anxiety and sadness go away when she's around.
satoru knew how to tolerate, utahime knew how to listen. an important and crucial difference: while moving away from your boyfriend, you grew closer to utahime. every little message or request to do something, even if it was drinking at a random bar, warmed your heart. it was always crowded at first, with even a few freshmen. but then, she reduced the group, and now it's customary for just the two of you to go out.
when you're together, utahime doesn't pay attention to anything else. nobody else. no girl in a miniskirt attracts her attention. her cell phone could beep for minutes and she wouldn't even spare it a glance when you're in the same room as her. she is kind, respects your limits, does her best to help you with everything and is happy when you are happy.
and honestly, she's beautiful. you can't take her gaze away even when you should be paying attention to what she says, not her appearance. she is wearing dark jeans, a black tank top that shows a lot of skin. so simple yet so elegant. her hair is tied in a low ponytail, and she's sitting by your side on your couch, pointing to something at your notebook screen.
she's saying something, but your brain can't quite process the words. the way her lips move is kind of hypnotic.
“and here, you have—” she snaps her fingers in front of you with a smile. “are you listening, angel?”
petnames became a thing. you let her call you that a few times and now, utahime seems addicted to it, even though she doesn't do it in public.
“yeah, no, you got me, sorry. can you repeat that?” she shrugs. normally, she would be irritated by someone who doesn't listen to a tutoring session. but with you?
iori has all the patience in the world and then some more when it's about you.
“i think we could use a break anyway. five minutes and we start again, all right?” you nod as she leans in to kiss your cheek, like she usually do to reward you for a good answer.
as utahime gets up to fetch some water from the kitchen, you start thinking about your relationship with her. the word sounds more serious, something beyond friendship, but there's nothing more fit to it. you realize that you and she are definitely getting closer than usual friends. you feel comfortable in her presence and enjoy her company, and she clearly enjoys yours. in fact, you have noticed that your senior really likes closeness and physical contact, and it's interesting how much you do too. you wonder: this is just a coincidence or if it's a sign of something more?
satoru, always appearing when uninvited even in thought, flashes through your mind. in the beginning of your relationship, he was as lovely as utahime, but things cooled down over time. you start to compare your current relationship with utahime to your past relationship with satoru. you realize that while things may have started out strong with satoru, the passion eventually fizzled out. with utahime, however, you feel a deeper connection that continues to grow with each passing day. could this be something more than friendship?
the guilty of thinking about this when your boyfriend is away consumes your insides. but there's this sparkling though, that question whose answer you so ardently want: what would utahime be like as your girlfriend?
“hey.” she calls, moving closer to you. her glass of water was left on the table on your living room. “you ok? what's on your mind?”
she's so sweet. so sweet and worried all the time, trying to make you comfortable and happy. she would make an wonderful girlfriend.
“yes.” you have to shake that though. what are you thinking? this is utahime, your kind senior. and you have a boyfriend. “just— got stuff on my mind.”
“about you and gojo?” she sits down beside you, worried, watching you nod. “that asshole doesn't return your calls, does he?”
you're never imagining the contempt in her voice. for some reason, utahime really doesn't like satoru. but it's understandable. the way he's been acting lately, doubts about your relationship with him are sprouting like fruit on a tree.
you feel tears well up in your eyes. utahime let out a gasp, worried as hell now. where is the satoru who would bring you flowers and spend hours talking to you when you can't sleep? could he really have just gotten sick of you? got bored?
that's what everyone said it would happen. satoru is not a one woman man, he never was. and judging by the look of things, he never will be. your relationship has just gone downhill steadily over the last few weeks. if you had someone like utahime, none of this would be happening.
“hey.” she calls you gently, whispering your name. utahime puts a hand on your face, tilting your head to look at her. her thumb is wiping away your tears. “don't cry. please. that jerk doesn't deserve you, he doesn't deserve your tears. you could do so much better. you only deserve the better.”
there is an odd consensus that you sense when you look into her eyes. something you two are thinking about. the best is not him.
you're trying to get some words out, to figure what to do next— when utahime leans in, looking you on the eye. her voice is a gentle z soft whisper you thought you wouldn't hear from anyone else. your heart skips a beat.
“can i kiss you?” there's so much despair. so much desire to have you in her voice, like you've never heard from anyone else. something that goes beyond a passing lust or a quickly acquired love.
instead of saying anything, you put your hands on her face, pulling iori close. you smash your lips against hers, letting out a soft sigh against her mouth because of how good it feels. she kisses calmly, a controlled and subtle desire — that's still there, but there is no rush.
there is no explanation for how good this moment is. when you pull apart, she looks at you. what do you whisper sends shivers down her spine.
“again.” her eyes widen. “kiss me again, utahime. and don't stop.”
she leans in, practically smirking against your lips. “whatever you wish, princess.” and she does exactly as you told her.
even though utahime is in no hurry, she gets bolder with every brush of lips. her hands wander around your body and settle on your waist. she pushes her tongue against yours out of the simple desire to be that close to you. it's not a rush. there's desire there, but it's more than that, more than just a passing desire for a good fuck. more than you ever felt coming from satoru.
oh, lord. your boyfriend is travelling and you're here. it's late at night and you're making out with utahime on the couch in your apartment, moaning against her mouth because how good it feels when she sucks your tongue, how she grabs your waist.
iori leans back again, licking her lips — a bit coated with your saliva and hers. the way she looks at you, with that much adoration on her eyes...it makes you forget about gojo in a heartbeat.
“wanna take this to the room, pretty?” and you never said yes so fast in your life.
just once. just this once, just tonight, you promise yourself. what a good liar.
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not even you can blame withdrawal on the lewd way your body reacts to hers. utahime undresses you gently, laying you down in bed. the lights on, the curtains drawn, blotting out the sky outside and leaving just you and her. not even the stars will be a witness to it. no other people, no doubts, just you and utahime. the door was left slightly ajar, and she is enjoying each new inch of skin she sees, layer after layer of fabric being leisurely removed. she'll dedicate this whole night just for you, and every other night you want her.
you pull her hair tie, watching the strands coming lose and letting her hair down. she chuckles as she leans down to kiss you again. gentle, soft pecks. you are being treated like glass, like the most precious thing on her life — and it's making you really, really wet.
ever since satoru simply disappeared from the map and only left a message saying he was going to travel, fulfilling your desires all on your own has been an arduous task. she's undoing the clasp of your bra, admiring how your body looks in underwear. better than her sexiest dreams.
“black lingerie, lovely?” you blush and nod, helping her get rid of the rest of your clothes and panties. “i love it.” she whispers, lips pressed against yours, eyes wandering down your body. “help me undress, pretty? it's not fair if you're the only one naked, although I really enjoy the view.”
she chuckles sweetly, seeing your hands move to help her out her crop top, while she's undoing the buttons on her jeans.
“utahime, you're so pretty.” you whisper is like something heaven-sent, just for her.
“am i? you're the pretty one here darling.” utahime wants to give herself a self-control medal for going so long without kissing you. and now that you're naked underneath her, she wants nothing else than to touch you.
but she forces herself to be patient until you two are naked. she gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, whispering a “good girl” as her hands move to cup your breasts. the sensation is quite new, her fingers twisting and pulling your nipples, making moans erupt from you. your tits were never the focus on any previous sex you had.
“mm— ah, utahime, this is...”
“no one played with your nipples before? you seem quite sensitive here.” she pulls one nipple slightly, delighting in the way you moan.
god, you're so pretty she can't decide where to touch first. you're laying down on the mattress, with her sat and settled between your legs. the way you look at her makes her whole body shiver, and utahime bites down her lip as her eyes and one of her hands wander down. her fingertips graze over your stomach, lower abdomen, and—
“is this okay?” she whispers, and you look at her, surprised. “we can stop if you want. we can always stop.” she's so sweet, looking you in the eyes, searching for any sign you're uncomfortable.
but you've never been so comfortable and worked up, really. you nod, looking at her hands.
“yeah. yeah, please— keep going.”
“okay, pretty.” her hand moves down, index finger sliding among your folds, relishing in the wet sound. that gets a moan out of you and a smirk out of iori. “you're so wet. is this all for me, angel?”
“mmm.” you nod, biting down your lip and yelping when she pinches your nipple.
“don’t hide your noises. I'll start touching you now, okay?”
when she gets our approval, her fingers tease you, opening your cunt for a better view. utahime licks down her lips — for weeks now she has been wondering what it tastes like. but patience. she can't have everything in one night, if she wants you wholeheartedly.
she needs to make you want more. and that's exactly what she does, thumb playing with your clit and her other hand giving some special treatment to your breasts. as she ordered, your mouth falls open, letting out lewd noises. it's like you're doused in gasoline and utahime is a spark. her touch sends flames throughout your body.
she gets you panting in seconds, and stops. utahime chuckles meanly at your whines of complaint. “relax, princess.” she instructs, raising her hand to lick of your juices from her fingertips. “i'll start using my fingers just a bit. tell me if it hurts, alright? and help me here when I touch you.”
she coats her fingers in saliva, bringing them down to your entrance again. she massages you, slowly entering one finger as she looks you in the eyes. she can't believe she had to wait so long to see this. your flushed face and erotic moans make every second, every night full of wet dreams of that moment, every minute desiring you more than anything — it's all worth it. she has you now.
she checks that you're okay and starts moving her wrist. you're so wet, the noise of her finger entering you enough to make your cheeks burn. she's trying to find something, her fingertips pressing your insides gently, here, there, until—
“ah!” you moan when she hits your sweet spot.
“found it.” she adds one more finger, pressing onto that spot again and again, making you squirm.
“uta— hime! utahime!” the hand on your chest moves to your waist, helping you grind against her. utahime uses her thumb to play with your clit, making your back arch a bit. “i'm close!”
“yeah? go on, lovely. make a mess on my fingers.” the stretch of a third finger being added is quickly forgotten as your orgasm wash over you. your legs shake, your back arches fully off the bed, and you're grabbing the sheets for dear life.
she doesn't stop immediately, like your boyfriend usually would if he wasn't cumming. she helps you ride out your high. utahime pulls her fingers off you slowly, licking the mess on her fingers, putting them entirely on her mouth while keeping eye contact with you. erotic. half of your brain doesn't fully function. this was so good, better than any orgasm you had before. she found all your weak spots and hit them perfectly.
utahime caress your thigh gently. a nod of approval, which she usually did to congratulate you on a correct answer in tutoring classes. always rewarding you. utahime leans in to give you a kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.
“was that good?” she asks as she leans back.
“you’re kidding me?” you're still trying to catch your breath. is she insane? can't she see how perfect this was? “it was amazing. really, really good—” you hesitate, but she smiles at you.
“go on, angel. tell me what's on your mind.” she gently encourages, voice a bit husky.
“can i do anything to make you feel half as good?” you suggest, shyly.
the glint in utahime's eyes would be dangerous if it weren't so attractive. she tilts her head to the side, pretending to think about something — but you two know. she's been dreaming about it for weeks. she is just choosing what to do.
“there is something, yes. we only do if you want it, though.”
you nod, waiting for her to continue. “what is it?”
“did you ever tried facesitting with a woman?”
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that's how you're laid back, with utahime hovering over your face. she smells sweet, addictive even. you wonder if the sex is feeling so good because of how you two get along. but that doesn't matter that much now. she's turned so she can touch you, making your legs wide open, facing the door.
“i'm not going to put my full weight on you, but if you need to breathe, tap my thighs or my waist three times. three times, you hear me?” you hear her voice from above you.
“mm-hmm.” you confirm, hands on the top of her thighs, pulling her to you and giving an experimental lick on her cunt. utahime moans softly, and you see that as permission to continue. you feel her taste on your tongue, and it's so good.
soon the gentle, kitten licks you're giving her are becoming more hungry, desperate ones. iori closes her eyes and let her mouth hang open, letting out moans. her hands are flat against your stomach, trying to steady herself.
“oh, that's it, angel.” she praises. “that's so good, keep licking like that. mmm.”
she's on heaven right now, she's sure of it. satoru gojo's cute girlfriend is eating her out just like she dreamt about for weeks. one of her hands move down to your cunt, just as wet as hers.
utahime licks her lips and moves down to lay over you, taking some hair out of her sweaty face and starting to return the favor. you grab her hips, her ass, giving it a light squeeze.
the feeling is electrifying. there is no other way to describe it beyond that. she makes every nerve in your body burn with the flicks of her tongue, as you do for her. she grabs your thighs, pulling them apart. you can feel her muffled moans against your pussy, the vibrations rushing straight to your core.
and the feeling of your tongue on her cunt is the most perfect she ever felt. utahime smirks to herself, thinking about ways to convince you to do this more. but she won't have to. one night has already turned you two into addicts. existing without each other will become impossible after that.
and that's where the best part happens. utahime is giving kitten licks on your clit when she raises her look, looking at the door. her eyes widen as she sees who's standing there: satoru gojo himself, watching you two through the opening with a terrified look on his face.
there is a bouquet of flowers in his hands. the poor thing is pale and utahime would feel sorry for anyone else. she realizes that, from your position, cunt on your face, you can't see him. you don't even know he's there, since gojo didn't make a sound. then she leans back from your cunt, feeling you whine against hers. she doesn't even have to try hard to look happy. you make her so happy.
and she'll make you happy like this idiot never did.
utahime returns to the original position, grinding her hips against your mouth, bringing a hand to finger you and replace her tongue. she looks satoru straight in the eyes as she moans loudly. it's so obscene.
“oh, pretty, just like that. you love licking your senior's pussy, don't you?” your hum of annoyance almost makes her cum on the spot. the way you grab her hips and pull her more to you is driving her insane. but she still has a secondary goal.
she smirks seeing gojo grimace like that. in years, she had never seen him so upset, so angry. and she can guess why. i think satoru really likes this one, shoko said. he broke so many hearts without giving a damn, provoked utahime several times — and on the day he finally, truly likes a girl, his senior is fucking his girlfriend.
well, after tonight, you'll certainly won't be his anymore. utahime will make sure of that. she enjoys the fact that her back arches when you lick her so eagerly, to stare right at him mockingly.
“told you, y-you could do so much better than him. atta girl. perfect little girl, i want your cunt all to myself now.” she shivers as you moan in agreement, her dirty talking turning you on. “haah— you're really close, aren't you, angel? it's okay. I am, too. i wanna cum on your mouth, okay? you'll let me? ‘going to let your senior make a mess on your tongue?”
“uh-huh!” it's hard to talk when you're so overwhelmed by her taste, by the sound of squelch squelch squelch her fingers make when they enter your cunt again and again. she leans in to spit on it, making you moan and shiver, trying to pull her back to you.
“you're never going to let him hit it again, right, princess?” her question makes a vein of anger pop out on satoru's neck. she never saw him so bothered. so, utahime continues, lifting her hips a bit so you can talk, but not see. “who does this cunt belongs to? remind me and I'll let you cum.”
you whine when she's off you, quick to answer and get your release. “yours! yours, utahime! a-ahh— please go harder! i wanna cum!”
she lowers her hips back down, moaning when your mouth eats her like that. she tilts her head to the side, spreading your legs more for gojo to see how much of a mess she's making you. her thumb plays with your clit again, and she starts humping her hips against your tongue, moaning loudly.
“that's right.” she licks her lips and looks the man right in the eye. “all mine, princess. now go on. cum for me.”
her words are the final push that sends you over the edge. your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and the way you moan against her cunt is obscene. utahime finger-fucks you during your high, making you squirm, undecided if he's trying to run away or lean more into her touch. you thrust your tongue inside of her and that's when she loses it.
she cums almost at the same time as you, riding your face while looking your boyfriend in the eye. you two ride out your highs, and she lifts her hips slightly to help you breathe more easily. your eyes are closed, and you're panting. she's breathless too, trying to regain control do to one last thing.
she bites down her lip, and when things are calming down and he's about to leave, pissed, utahime moves her lips to him without making a sound. a phrase she'd said hundreds of times to him before, but he'd never listened to her.
“respect your senior.”
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀> there will be no part 2.
©OHKKOTSUU on tumblr.
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cyborg-franky · 8 months
Text
Cute
This is part of my trade with a friend!
Law x GN Reader SFW Word Count: 2,200
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You stared into the mirror, and your reflection stared back with the same displeased expression as your shoulders sagged, letting out a sigh, frustrated at what greeted you. You pat your cheeks and watched them move, how cute and round they were. Fingertips brushed along them, wishing you had defined cheekbones to give you a more grown-up appearance. 
It wasn’t like you even hated how you looked, not at all. You just wished you could look older, more mature, less this cute person everyone was used to. You knew when you left your island to become a pirate you would have to fight twice as hard as anyone to prove a point, to get your message across, people would just see you as a cute and docile weakling.
You squished your cheeks before letting out another sigh, letting go just to dig through a bag, makeup came to your aid. If you couldn’t have those razor-sharp cheekbones, pointed nose, and appearance of mature elegance then you’d use all matter of paints to create the illusion.
Practice had made you perfect, the way you looked once you worked your magic, you always liked what the mirror showed you after an hour of carefully contouring and applying. You turned left and right making sure your masterpiece was even on both sides. Suddenly those round cheeks had been carved into a refined shape and you were more than delighted.
Stepping out of your room, at last, an air about you, this pride that made your heart swell. Each step, each clack of boots on wood as you strode towards the main deck, poised perfectly, feeling like the world was all yours for the taking.
Your own form of war paint across your face as you held your head up high. Feeling the wind in your hair, the salty scent of the ocean wafting across you, taking in a deep breath, feeling like everything was going your way. You’d worked hard to put on this performance and you felt stronger than any ship, any sea king as you set your hands on your hips and looked over the rolling waves.
“Needed your beauty sleep huh? Sure you don’t need to get a few more hours?” One of the crew commented, slapping you on the back.
The force deflated you, knocking the wind from your sails as his words sunk in. After all of that people still saw you as this cute baby who needed to be protected at any cost, so used to your peers ruffling your hair and acting like you could barely stand without someone's assistance.
That was the last leg you sailed with them. You needed to find a new path to walk, you needed to be with people who made you feel you were also an adult, that you were equal on the ship. 
Meeting the Heart Pirates had been such a chance meeting, the loud group all pushing into the small bar you’d taken a job in, just until you found the next crew you wanted to sail with, even though it had been weeks and you were giving up hope finding one that wasn’t just drunken idiots. 
And yet, here you were, standing in one of the rooms on the submarine, holding a stack of papers for your new captain.
Law didn’t tend to waste his time with words, one on one or part of a larger group, he would say a handful of things, short, to the point. He was clearly a man that didn’t believe in empty words to avoid silence. You didn’t mind, you knew not everyone was the life of the party and the rest of the crew were so full of life, shouting and singing in the evenings after a drink or two, so you were never short of some entertainment or conversation.
You’d been part of the crew for a week. Everyone was nice, and friendships were starting to form, something you’d never planned on doing again didn’t want to get close to people just to hop ship when it was no longer the right fit for you but somehow this group of misfits had managed to wriggle their way inside your heart, kicked the door open with a flourish with each joke they told, each card game they encouraged you to be part of.
Also, the growing crush on Law was another thing entirely. You wanted to stay here, be part of this crazy family and one day maybe be seen by Law. At least that's what you wished for more than anything at this moment.
But he was hard to read. Always with a stirn expression in moments like these, as he flipped through books, his grey eyes feasting on the knowledge as he hummed or grunted and put the book back. He looked grumpy most of the time but as you got to know him the more you realized he just had a serious case of resting bitch face when he was working on something so intently when his entire thought process was set on his task.
He was handsome when his brows furrowed and he chewed on his bottom lip, all little things about him you noticed because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him for long. You wondered if he saw you for more than your help.
Helpless newbie to the pirate world? Or someone brimming with promise, who just needed a nudge in the right direction. Either way, you stood there holding the files for Law as he tutted to himself, flipping through the files and folders, trying to find something but it kept escaping him. You watched his face, how his expression would change slightly depending on if he thought he was getting hotter or colder to the thing he was looking for.
“Maybe you need a more updated system,” You said and offered him a smile as he took a stack from your arms and set it on his desk, fanning them out. His eyes flicked up from his task, meeting yours and for a second you thought you would wilt under his gaze, the way his eyes narrowed at you.
“I mean, it works but could be better,” 
You were just digging a hole for yourself at this point and you weren’t sure how the captain was going to respond, hard to read when he was in a fun mood or not. The way his lip curled into a sneer before it morphed into a smirk, a deep chuckle rumbled from the captain. You forgot how much you liked to hear him chuckle.
The rumble was pleasing, a timber that made your heart thump in your chest as he watched you, his time to take in your expression, to analyze what he could say. “Your lucky you're cute and can get away with such things.” He commented and stacked the folders, but still, nothing he was looking for, he held out his hand and waved for you to come over with the remaining contents of your arms.
You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment. You didn’t want to be cute. Flashes of annoyance burned up inside of you, heating up your cheeks as you grimaced, keeping it to yourself as Law took the last files from your arms and went to work looking through them.
When would you be seen as anything other than cute? Really? Maybe you started to think with disappointment washing over you, maybe this wasn’t the right fit for you.
Doubling down on how you presented yourself, even asking people with makeup skills what you could do didn’t seem to help much. You avoided anything that could be cute you were on the crew of The Trafalgar Law you had to be as fearsome as the rest.
As the weeks passed your feelings for said captain morphed and changed, and healthy respect melted away like snow, giving the seeds of affection the chance to grow and you hadn’t even seen it coming. The way he smiled at you, always a fleeting expression on his lips as his usual intense stare would wither to a sparkle of fondness. No longer a crush but full-on feelings.
Was he becoming easier for you to read or worse? Maybe you were seeing all these signs as just what you wanted to see them as. How desperately you clung to wanting to be as cool and mature as him. 
The way you dressed when not wearing the awful jumpsuit, black, nothing fancy just straight up and down. Wanting to seem as cool and calm as him, wanting to appeal to that serious side he presented to everyone. 
It was late one evening and you couldn't sleep, walking down the halls barefoot, soft feet padding along the cold floor, trying to be quiet. Your footsteps were so small and gentle, the sounds of the pipes and the system of the metal cage you lived in swallowed up any sounds you could make.
Somehow it made the evening all the more lonely. The rattles, clanks and clicks. All echos of a machine. No snores or muffled chat could be heard slipping from behind cabin doors. You tried to focus on the steady beat of the sounds around you, the heart of the polar tang pulsing. Rattle, click, clank.
You memorized the beat, breathing in and out in an attempt to let it drown out the thoughts in your head, the same ones that stole your sleep, snatching away the cover of slumber as your brain kept active and loud, like the pipes that ached above you.
Heading to the galley you saw a light, wrinkling your nose and sticking your hands in the pockets of your PJ bottoms you strolled over, haste in your step as the relief of not being the only one awake brought your steps to move faster. You peeked in and saw Law, sitting at the table with a book and a cup of tea.
You were about to turn tail and run when you heard his voice cut through the pulse thumping in your ears. He called your name, no room to argue, the tone already shutting down your chance for escape, you balled your hands into clammy fists in your pockets as you stepped in with a curt nod to the captain.
“Can’t sleep?”
“Never do,” Law shrugged as if it was a fact you’d simply forgotten.
He nodded for you to sit across from him. That was when he looked up, doing a double take, and seemed to examine your face as if this was the first time he had ever laid eyes on you. He clicked his tongue and closed his book. Not looking away from your face, you shifted in your seat, feeling like the captain was going to eat you, the sheer intensity in his stare.
“Why do you wear so much makeup?” He asked, the question cutting straight to the point and you blinked, hands reaching for your face, feeling the nice soft clean skin, having washed the mask away in the shower.
“I hate how I look without it.” You said and he quirked an eyebrow. “Everyone says I’m cute and soft and I don’t want to be that, I want to be taken seriously, I’m a pirate.” Your voice was full of conviction but Law could hear the pain that ebbed within, how raw your words rushed out. He watched your hands on the table, a tremble.
Why was it so easy for Law to coax the truth from you? You didn’t want to see how he would react, glaring instead at his chest, the black smiley face across the glaring yellow of his hoody. “You know, you don’t have to pick between being taken seriously and being cute.” Law started and ran a hand through his messy hair with a sigh.
“How so?” You asked, “Bepo, Bepo is cute and we all know he’s strong.” He shrugged.
“I happen to like cute things too and you, you're very cute with or without the makeup... But I think I like you more like this… it’s you, the real you.” You were too busy staring at him in stricken awe at his words that you didn’t feel when he placed a hand over yours.
“Your cute,” He repeated and you could feel the heat tingle your cheeks, across your chest, and to the points of your ears when that slight but sweet smile slipped onto his lips once more. “Plus, you have the gift of being underestimated, you can use that to your advantage and show everyone how strong you really are.” He said with a nod.
You’d never thought of it like that, feeling better about something you always convinced yourself was a weakness. And if Law liked cute things… it couldn’t be that bad, right? You nodded a smile to match his. Maybe it was time to finally accept you were cute, and lean into it. And who knows, perhaps you could win him over with this cuteness..
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Text
My First But Not My Last.
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Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader
Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Some folks will not die // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.
Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t
Part 11 : My Last
<;< Previous | Masterlist
"Let's get this shit show on the road," You said with certain numbness & exhaustion in your voice.
You just wanted to rip Satoru Gojo out of the Prison Realm & take him far away. Probably you'd drag Nanami with you.
But that couldn't happen because of the following reasons :
Only you can nullify the prison realm;
Only you can nullify Sukuna from within or drive him out of Megumi's body, however there's a 90% percent chance that he will emerge as the greatest curse of all time;
You'll die if Satoru Gojo dies. Not because of whatever. But because of heartbreak.
So you have to hold your shit together & get Satoru out because you need the strongest to fight the strongest before he consumes all of Megumi, if he hasn't already.
"Look, I don't know what shit's in there, so brace yourself for all kinds of curses," you warned everyone around, "If we haven't had our hands full already. This could be the start of the real shit show."
Nanami & Inumaki were already on their feet, much to Shoko's dismay.
You recalled the incantations you read on the book & with the tip of your finger, you dispelled the prison box.
It started to shake as soon as you touched it & everybody were on full alert.
Each gate started to open up & slowly, Satoru Gojo stepped out of the portal, leaving the cowered skeletons beneath him.
The box sealed shut & Satoru smashed it with his cursed energy to the ground, obliterating it upon contact.
You were in tears as you saw your favorite white-haired guy.
You couldn't stop yourself from running towards him & as soon as you made contact with his body, you melted in his arms immediately as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.
"Missed me, princess?" He whispered in your ear, making you cry even more, before you started to hit him violently for the scare that he caused you.
"You fucking jerk! Do you have any idea how much we've gone through just to get you out?!" you cried as you hit him over & over, leaving the audience astounded as you were able to land every single hit due to your ability, "You fucking scared me, you fucking idiot! What would I do if you die? I can't fucking lose you, fucking jerk!"
Satoru understood how terrified you were. He saw it. He saw how you scoured every book in the archive of your school, then realized that one of the ancients would have it in their files. He was proud, but at the same time, as equally as terrified that you'd be in danger.
He held your tiny wrists & wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles as he whispered, "I'm here, baby. I'm here. You did a good job. I'm here. Shhh," which helped you calm down.
You didn't leave his side. You didn't even let go of his hand, even while everybody was fililng him up. He didn't see the rest of the fights as he was focused on you. He felt really bad that you had to face his old best friend & put him to rest, but it has to be done.
He held on to your hand as tight as how your gripping it with as if with your dear life.
"Satoru, I am serious. We can't have you rampaging recklessly. I can't, I just can't lose you. I will die," you said... No you begged for him to be cautious & to listen to your plan. If it goes well, then you will all go home, possibly with Megumi & Itadori, not unscathed, but safe.
Satoru held your face in his hands as he forced you to look him in his eyes, "Look at me, Princess. I will not be reckless & I heard you. I will do my best to follow the plan & not go rogue."
"Okay," You nodded like a child, tears glistening as he continuously wiped every drop that falls on your cheeks, "Okay. I need you Satoru."
"Now can I have my fierce Princess back?" He asked with a bit of smug in his tone, "Cause I need her to win this."
You pulled yourself together, still not breaking eye contact because you also wanted him to know that you in it with him no matter what, "You have her. Always."
"That's all I needed to here & the only motivation I needed," Satoru pulled his blindfold back to his eyes.
"You heard my girl & her plan," Satoru said in a commanding tone, "Let's get on with it."
It was the real shit show, as you put it.
Your theories were right. Those books were right.
Sukuna was driven out of Megumi's body as the most powerful, if not, greatest curse of all time. That's expected from the king of curses.
Subduing him was not easy. 20 fingers is equivalent to 20 special grade curses. And you have to defeat them all.
It didn't happen that night, because the moment he was driven out of Megumi's body, he fled.
But He returned, one curse at a time & it didn't take long before you realized that these were his fingers turned into powerful curses.
And the last one was the most difficult of them all.
But you were able to finally subdue it.
Megumi did not leave the battle unscathed. He had to undergo a lot of therapy sessions to ground him - emotionally & mentally because his final straw was when Tsumiki died at his hands.
The same goes for Yuji Itadori, for every person he killed, but he was doing much better because he started to accept that when he fought Mahito.
Kugisaki had a long recovery, but with the help of Shoko's & Hiruguma's ability, she was able to get back to her feet & regain parts of her body that were blasted by Mahito.
Todo regained his boogie-woogie with the help of Hiruguma's advanced reverse cursed technique, which he taught Shoko later on. He left his profession as a lawyer & studied medicine to become a doctor like Shoko.
Yuta was finally able to face his feelings for Maki, which she had an even harder time to accept that somebody wanted her for who she is.
And of course, Miwa finally gave Muta a hug the moment she found Dr. Ieri at Tokyo & they were inseparable ever since.
You, however, took the time off to teach your now-fiancé how to use nullification to control the infinite amount of things that his 6 eyes are seeing. It helped in conserving his energy.
As for Nanami, he took an indefinite leave & booked a flight straight to Malaysia. And you were extremely happy for him. He's the one who deserves all the rest & luxury in the world.
The proposal? It was dramatic since it was Satoru Gojo.
It happened right after Sukuna was defeated.
You were all panting & almost running out of strength. You were all worn out, disheveled & dirty from all the blood & fighting.
That's when he swooped you off your feet with the most breath-taking kiss, with the other sorcerer's watching as he declared his love & devotion for you - much to Utahime's disgust for public displays of affection.
But it was perfect, befitting for the World's Powerful Couple.
"There's nobody who can keep up with my feral side except you, Princess. What do you say? Wanna spend infinity with me?"
"You cheesy idiot, of course I would," You answered with the happiest smile, as everybody cheered for you & Satoru's engagement.
A/N : So that's it. Again, I dunno how I came up with this. It was pure drabble of whatever shit that came to mind. I know there are SO MUCH loopholes so don't come at me for it. I just want Satoru, Nanami, Muta alive, Inumaki with all his limbs, my favorite trio - Yuji, Megumi & Kugisaki recovering to good health, my ships - MechaMiwa, Yuta x Maki. It's my AU so if it's not your cup of tea, then move on to the next fanfic. Anyway, to those who reached this part, thank you for reading through that though I dunno how you survived that because honestly, this is pure drabble with no fixed plot in mind (apart from keeping those folks alive). There may be some side stories though, I'm not sure how & where to start with that, but the main story is done.
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softest-punk · 11 months
Text
Domaystic Day 5
Prompt: learning something new (via @domaystic)
Dream (Morpheus)/Hob/Dream (Daniel) | 800 words | General/Everyone | pure uncut domestic fluff
---
Hob ignores the first thump in the kitchen. And the second. And indeed the third.
When the fourth one comes with a pained cry, he decides that current-and-former dreamlord bonding time has come to a close, and it’s experienced-adult-human intervention time instead.
The kitchen is, perhaps predictably, a crime scene. Flour everywhere. An egg dripping from the ceiling, somehow. Every bowl Hob owns and some he’s sure he doesn’t all over every surface. Burnt saucepan on the stove.
Less predictable is the tableau at the sink. Dream has Daniel bracketed between his body and the edge of it, tap running, Daniel’s fingers held under the water. Dream nuzzling his hair and whispering soft nonsense about how it’ll be all right, it’s just a scald, it’ll stop hurting in a minute and it’ll go away before he knows it and he’s being very brave.
It’s almost exactly what he’d done, when Dream had burned himself last week, and it makes his heart do all kinds of funny things to see that Dream absorbed that particular care so completely that he’s using it as a model to look after Daniel. The fact that Daniel could just shake a burn off—that he couldn’t be burned without allowing it—makes it even more adorable. Because he’d witnessed all this.
He wants to be cared for, too. Of course he does. And he’s going to be. Because they’re not losing him. Not for anything. He’s going to be the happiest little King of Dreams ever to have ruled.
And Hob’s going to melt into a puddle on the floor of his own kitchen watching it. There’s something unspeakably precious about the two of them together.
“Can I make myself useful?” he asks gently.
“Hob!” Daniel extricates himself from Dream in a heartbeat, rushing over to tackle him into a hug, looking up with tears in his eyes.
Over Daniel’s shoulder, Dream mouths favourite. He accuses Hob of this, of being Daniel’s favourite, but it’s not even slightly true. Hob watched them in bed this morning. Watched, mind. He wasn’t invited to participate.
Not that the watching isn’t a lot of fun.
And he is usually invited to participate, and probably could’ve asked. Still, though. They’re equal favourites.
He takes up Daniel’s hand, inspecting the faint pink mark on the edge of his finger. He’s somehow paler than Dream ever was, to the point of being a kind of fluorescent white when the afternoon sun catches him, so the mark does stand out on his skin.
“Poor darling,” he says, pressing a kiss to the mark which—because kisses make things all better—instantly disappears.
He’s gotten the hang of this made-of-stories-and-feelings business, now. Sometimes he wishes he’d gotten the hang of it with the first King of Dreams.
But then there wouldn’t be two of them making the most incredible mess in the kitchen, so perhaps it’s all right that he was a little slow on the uptake.
“Can I ask what all this was in aid of?” Hob says, taking another look around the kitchen.
Daniel—snuggled up against him now—sighs, and the kitchen goes back to the way it was this morning, sparkling clean.
Hob, who is the kind of idiot who continues to clean manually despite having a boyfriend who can do it for him with no effort, laughs. Dream, who has absolutely no trouble grasping and accepting Daniel’s willingness to make his life easy, doesn’t even react. Once a king, always a king.
The timer on the oven goes off, and Dream bustles about to grab oven mitts—he’s learned his lesson about hot things and human skin—and extract…
Well.
Hob suspects it was meant to be some sort of cake, but it’s a bit…
“We may have forgotten the baking powder,” Dream says.
Daniel peers at the pan with the sunken cake in it forlornly, without leaving Hob’s hold at all. “Oh. We were trying to learn how to bake a cake.”
Hob chuckles. “I love you. Both of you. So much.”
“You always say this when one of us has done something foolish,” Daniel points out.
“Because you know you’ve done it and I want you to know that I still love you even if you do make a mistake from time to time.”
“Time to time,” Dream mutters under his breath, setting the aspiring cake on the cooling rack a little harder than strictly necessary.
Hob reaches out and tugs him over to join in the group cuddle. “C’mere, love. I’ve had well over six hundred years of doing this and you still watched me slice my thumb open on a cardboard box the other day. If you learn anything from this, it ought to be that we all do silly things. And you still love me, don’t you? Even when I’m cursing the invention of cardboard boxes and wishing I’d taken the opportunity to strangle that Gair bastard when I had the chance?”
“Did you have the chance?” Daniel asks.
“I invested in the stupid things. They wouldn’t exist without me.”
Dream snorts against his shoulder, and Daniel follows it up with a giggle.
Hob decides they still love him.
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