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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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Meet the Family 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Today is my friday bc I booked time off to go see my grammy!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You don’t dare enter the suite again until you hear snoring. You’re cautious as you move around in the low rhythm of Lloyd’s slumber. It begins to dawn on you slowly what you’ve agreed to. You’re used to controlled doses of him. You go to work, do his bidding, then clock out. There might be a few late nights but this is too much.

One million dollars. You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. With that money you can but your way free of this man once and for all. Hell, you might go back to school so you can be an insufferable boss one day. That might actually make your mother proud.

You shut yourself in the bathroom and try to wake yourself with a shower. It’s nice but your fatigue is even more obvious as you emerge. Your coffee sits cold and forgotten next to scraps of bacon and an empty cup.

You go back down to the dining hall and sit to enjoy your coffee without the threat of another awkward moment. You rub your forehead as you lean your elbow on the table and sip. Not bad for hotel brand.

You return to the room and knock before you let yourself in. You hear stirring in the bed as you do but nothing as lewd as last time. Lloyd groans and whimpers.

“My head,” he moans.

“It’s almost ten,” you say. “What time is this brunch at?”

He whines again and drags a pillow over his head. You open your carry-on and pull out your travel tube of pain killers. You cross to him and grab his hand, shoving the capsules into his palm.

“Get up,” you say, “what time?”

He clasps onto your fist and rips the pillow off. He tugs on you as he sits up. His eyes are blood shot and his forehead creased with agony. You want to laugh in his face. Serves him right.

“Twelve,” he pouts.

You wrench your hand free and go to the mini fridge. You grab him a bottle of water and toss it onto his lap. He catches it with a flinch.

“Woah, watch the gems,” he warns.

“I gotta go get my luggage. Find something appropriate,” you look down at the grey sweatshirt and leggings meant for the flight home. “Get yourself together.”

You turn and grab your jacket. You’re really not looking forward to this. You agreed to it, though, and you won’t be Lloyd. You’re not going to gripe about a decision you made. One million, one million, one million...

You go out to your car and grab your bag. You haul it back up and after another cautious tap on the door, you push your way into the room. The bathroom door is open as the shower thrums and Lloyd’s groans underline the hum. You shut it and prop your bag up on the chair.

You pick out the cashmere cream blouse with the twisted neckline and a pair of soft beige wool trousers. Presentable but not high effort. These people are not going to stress, not any more than he already has.

You change and search your toiletry bag. You use the wall mirror to get ready as you hear the shower crank off. Lloyd’s clumsy steps slap the tile and he crashes into the door from the inside. You make no effort to check on his as you blend in your blush.

“Urghhhhh,” he appears like a yeti from a snow drift, staggering with his head nearly beneath his shoulders. “I feel like a sorority girl after rush week.”

“That’s gross,” you reprimand as you put the blush stick away. “I think maybe this is a good lesson. Take it easy on the mimosas at brunch, huh?”

“Hair of the dog,” he insists as he clutches the top of the towel and stumbles to the bed. “You wanna get out my Gucci suit. You can iron the jacket--”

“Excuse me?” You turn.

“Please, my beloved,” he whines.

“N. O.” You say.

“I’m paying you--”

“That wasn’t what we discussed.”

“Wives iron suits,” he retorts.

“In 1952.” You bounce back. “Lloyd. This is business. We sell this thing to your family so you can get your money, and I can get mine, and that’s that. This is a shell. Okay?”

“Hmph,” he grunts. He sucks his teeth as he thinks and you turn back to the mirror. You see his reflection. You don’t like that twinkle in his eyes. “Well, if we really want to sell this thing, we gotta make it seem natural.” He stands up and wobbles as he braces his forehead. He takes a breath and lumbers towards you, “you gotta act like you’re into me.”

He brings his hand down and squeezes your ass. It’s more painful than you expect. You’re reminded of that unceremonious pinch issued by another of his bloodline.

You spin to face him and slap his hand down, “ow. Don’t do that.”

“Like I said, you’re not going to be engaged to guy you can’t stand. Okay? So you gotta get into it,” he reaches around you with both arms and cups your ass, pulling you flush to him. You drop your mascara and smack his upper stomach.

“Lloyd,” you growl.

“Put a little honey in it,” he kneads your ass as you squirm.

“Let go--”

“You know I’m right,” he wiggles his hips and the towel slips off.

“Oh, god!” You push on him harder.

“Mm, you know, I never realised how tiny you are. I could just...” He bends his knees as he slides one hand down your thigh and the other up your back. He angles to scoop you up. You squeal in surprise. “Ah, easy as pie. Just like me, Pixie stick.

“Lloyd, put me down,” you writhe in his grasp. “This isn’t okay!”

“Should we consummate now--”

“Ew, oh, no.”

“Ew?” He echoes. “What’s ew about it? I’m rich, I’m attractive--” He pauses as he turns and tosses you toward the bed. You land in a heap with a yelp. “And I’m strong.”

You don’t have a chance to recover before he’s on top of you. He catches your hands before you can swipe at his face and he pins them above your head. He straddles you, shamelessly naked, and snickers.

“Trust me, my thrust game is on point,” he rolls his hips and you close your eyes.

“Lloyd, off. Now.”

“I’m tryna get off, Pixie, trust,” he leans over you until you feel his breath. “We could have lots of fun. After three years of tension, you know it’s inevitable.”

“Tension?” You hiss, “oh, I don’t think it’s the kind you think.”

“You’re stressed. I’m offering you relief. A little extra bang for your buck, here.”

“No,” you grit out between your teeth, twisting your wrists in his grip and you kick your legs. You don’t like the way it makes the whole bed jostle. “Just get off of me. Please.”

“I’m trying to get in you,” he snarls.

Your eyes snap open as his nose comes down next to yours. He leers down at you as his irises no longer sparkle. His features are sinister as he puffs down at you like a wild beast. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s no longer just a nuisance, he’s a danger.

You open and close your fingers, “we’ll be late if you don’t.”

He stares down at you. You feel him breathing, shallow and rabid, as your own heartbeat thumps in your chest. He doesn’t have to stop and there’s really nothing you can do to make him.

“Mom’s already mad at me,” he grumbles and pushes himself up. He slowly drags himself off and turns his back to you. You watch the muscles tauten and bring yourself up on your elbows.

“I’ll iron your suit,” you relent. “Just put some underwear one.”

He scoffs as you carefully roll away from him. You move as if any sudden motion might antagonize him. He gets up and grabs his phone from the night stand. He huffs as he lights up the screen.

“This licks ass,” he growls.

You go to his suitcase and open it. You search out the label with the G on it and hold up the red blazer. “Is this the one?”

He looks at you as he chews his cheek. He nods and quickly goes back to his phone, tapping on it with his thumb. You roll your eyes and find a pair of black slacks to match. You take it all out and unfold the ironing board from the wall.

You nearly wince as he approaches. He passes you and goes to his bag, bending to sift through it. “You know, I usually like to hang free.” He rips something from the suitcase, “but for you, I’ll tie the hog down.” He stands and steps into the briefs one leg at a time. He snaps the band and puts his hands on his hips. “Happy?”

“Not really,” you mutter.

“Yeah, me neither,” he sighs.

❄️

In the daylight, the Hansen’s mansion appears even more pristine. As you come up the long walk with the elaborate set stone, Lloyd neatens his mustache with a small mother of pearl comb. You give him a side glance but say nothing. He hasn’t stopped fidgeting since you got in the car.

You get to the front door and prepare yourself for another encounter with the worst people you’ve met. For all your time working for the man next to you, you should be perfectly honed for the task. Still, you’re not sure you can be ready for that bunch.

Lloyd lets himself in and you follow. As you unzip your booties, he clears his throat. “Hey, mom, we’re here.”

He receives no answer but you can hear the din humming from another room. He takes off his jacket and hangs it. You put yours next to his. His cheek ticks with dread and he forces his chin up.

You follow him to the dining room and as he enters, he receives no welcome. A few stray looks are aimed at you but no one acknowledges your arrival. Lloyd clears his throat and sits. You claim the seat next to him and peer around. How jolly of a holiday.

As your boss shifts beside you, you hold back a yawn. You haven’t got enough sleep for this nonsense. Lloyd sits forward and reaches for the jug of orange juice. Another hand reaches out to catch the crystal decanter.

“Let us get the formalities out of the way, son,” William snarls. “You owe your mother an apology.”

Lloyd rescinds his reach and flinches, “an apology?”

“Yes, you humiliated her last night, storming off like that.”

Lloyd blinks, as genuinely confused as you’ve ever seen him. His throat bobs and his eyes brows arch, “Mom,” he looks at Gwenyth as she puts her posture as straight as she can. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you? And what about this one? I’d say she started all this trouble,” she accuses as she points at you with a red acrylic.

You nearly scoff. Instead, you match her energy. “I have nothing to apologise for.”

“Pixie,” Lloyd hisses.

“No, why should I apologise? Tell me exactly what I did and I’ll let you know if I’m sorry.”

“Pix, what are you doing?” Lloyd murmurs.

“Well, you...” Gwenyth begins. “You said—You--”

“You accused me of being out for money. I’m not. You insulted him,” you gesture carelessly to Lloyd, “repeatedly. So, I’m not entirely sure what I did that offended you so much. I’ve been pleasant but it doesn’t mean you can walk all over me.”

“You are defiant,” she yaps shrilly.

“I’m being honest. And to apologise wouldn’t be honest,” you shrug. “Now, if you would rather we leave, I’m more than happy to pack up. Obviously, I can’t meet your high standards.”

“Pixie,” Lloyd whispers.

The table is silent as you stare across it. You feel the fire burning under your skin. You’re not sure where that came from. Maybe it’s because none of this really matters. You don’t need to impress them. You just need to get that courthouse contract signed and you can be on your merry way. This is all just pretense.

“Hm,” William pushes the jug toward Lloyd, “you hold onto that one. She’s clever.”

“William,” Gwenyth yowls and swats her husband’s arm.

“She has a point,” he says.

“But--”

“Suppose we are a bit hard on the boy,” he argues.

“Or maybe he’s just a disappointment,” Lillian preens. “Daddy, please. He waited forty-three years to meet expectations.”

“Better late than never,” Benson snorts. “I’d prefer never.”

There’s a bit of laughter, though Gwenyth and Lillian continue to glare across at you. You would be intimidated if you were concerned about their opinions. But they are nothing compared to your grandmother’s eternal glower or your mother’s grim sighs. You might be better prepared for this than you thought.

“Exactly what she said,” Lloyd swipes up the jug and stops himself, reaching for your glass instead of his. He fills it and presents it to you with a smirk. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“All this waiting and for what,” Gwenyth fans herself and sniffles. “And he chooses this prissy little--”

“Gwen,” William warns curtly. “Please, do not spoil another meal.”

“Me? Spoil? I never.” She whines.

“Hm, yes, we will not mention Easter then,” William tuts. “Let us just enjoy today. After all, I’m sure she could be at home with her own family.”

You could and you would rather be. Yet, that is one thing you can blame on Lloyd. The more you think of it, you can blame every single snipe and jab on him. After all, he snared you into this. You might have been easily bought but that doesn’t excuse his machinations.

You look at him with no effort to conceal the revelation. He meets your eye and his brows twitch. He bares his teeth sheepishly. Your eyes narrow as you center every ounce of exhaustion, chagrin, and general distaste in his direction.

“You okay, honey pie?” He asks softly.

You reach for your glass and examine it, “is there prosecco in this? If not, could I request some?” You turn back to the table. You hear Lloyd gulp and feel him shift before he reaches to touch your arm. It’s your turn to indulge.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #meet the family

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purinfelix · 8 hours ago

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can i request hot cocoa + let you break my heart again + franco colapinto

perhaps the both of them are at some kind of gala/event/party for f1 with a mix of yearning maybe some mutual pining 🙈

one day ⊹ ࣪ ˖ - franco colapinto

w/c: 800 a/n: UGH this idea was just sooo scrumptious i loved writing it sm (and maybe got a bit carried away since this was supposed to be a blurb) BUT thanks bff hope u like <3333

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

Stuffy formal events were something you thought you'd escaped by choosing a career in motorsport.

Little did you know, becoming an F1 driver meant signing up for a lifetime of them - a fact you were sourly reminded of when the annual gala rolled around, and despite it being your first, proved awful every step of the way. Somewhere in between the pretentiously tiny portion sizes and long, boring speeches, you found yourself growing more restless, desperate for an escape.

That's how you ended up here - leaving the toilet cubicle that had been your safe haven for the last half an hour, following a less-than-kind text from your pr manager demanding your return. As you washed your hands, your eyes glazed over your reflection in the ornate bathroom mirror. A small smile perked at the side of your mouth, satisfied with the job your stylist had done - even if the outfit she had chosen was suffocatingly tight and only added to your long list of nightly grievances.

Leaving the bathroom, you took in a deep breath, mentally preparing to sit through several more insufferable hours of this event.

"I was wondering where you went," came a voice from the other side of the hall, emerging from the men's bathroom. Looking up you locked onto a pair of green eyes, a coy expression on his face.

"Didn't think you'd notice in between all your flirting, Franco," you spat, though you couldn't stop yourself from offering a sly smile. You feel his eyes run over you, trying to maintain your composure as you feel your cheeks heat up under the weight of his gaze.

"You look good," he lets out, a little softly, almost like a confession. You're tempted to reply back with something snappy, though you stop yourself.

"You too." And you're not lying. In a black suit, cleanly pressed and fitted, he looks almost unrecognisable from the normal race weekend outfit. Though his deep brown curls, which you can tell his stylist has tried their best to tame, still fall carefreely onto his forehead.

He brushes a couple away as he lets out a shy laugh. "Well, it seemed a good time to clean up, hm?"

There's a moment of silence that seems to indicate that the two of you should return back to the event - but you don't. Neither of you move, just standing there looking at each other, almost daring the other to say something else. It's unlike the two of you since usually any space between you is filled with snarky comments and quick insults - the result of being two rookies from opposite teams, fighting to make a name for yourselves.

But sometimes you wish it weren't. Sometimes, in between the snide remarks and menacing stares, you think about how maybe if fate had favoured you just a little more, Franco might've been your teammate. And maybe, just maybe, you might've gotten along.

Though being 'rivals' meant being similar, even if you refused to admit it, and knowing each other deeply - on a level that being friends wouldn't come close to.

He reminds you of this fact when he pipes up again, hands shoved in the pockets of his dress pants. "I really don't want to go back in there," he confesses.

"Me neither," you sigh in agreeance, relieved he feels the same.

"It's just so-"

"Stuffy."

"Yes, exactly!" he replies, a thankful smile on his face, "plus, I feel like this tie is trying to strangle me."

"But I guess we have to go back, my media manager is going to be looking for me."

"Right," he says, looking down, "unless."

You quirk an eyebrow, intrigued at what he's implying. "Surely not."

"What are the chances of us actually being needed tonight, we're two rookies, it's not like they're going to give us any awards."

"You really haven't been listening in those media training lessons of yours, hm?"

"Oh, because you care so much about my image," he laughs, "c'mon let's get out of here, do something else, something that isn't so mind-numbingly boring." As he speaks, he brings a hand to his neck, loosening his tie, and you suck in a sharp breath as you watch him.

"Franco," you say softly, almost begging him not to make you make this decision.

"Fine, if you want to head back in there, be my guest, but I'm going." He turns around, giving you one last look, almost daring you to follow him with one eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips quirked up.

As he does you're struck by the feeling that maybe one day the two of you won't be posed as rivals, that maybe you might truly get along.

That maybe one day he won't have such a strong effect on you, that the way he looks at you won't make your heart flutter and brain stop as much as it does now.

But today isn't that day.

"Franco, wait," you call out, jogging up to him and letting out a defeated sigh, "where should we go?"

"Anywhere you want," he replies, looking at you with a smug yet endeared smile - almost as if he knew you'd join him all along.

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★#jet's 1k event ᝰ.ᐟ

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littlxpxtal · 1 day ago

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Puppy Grin

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

I'm alone, to beginning

Just sat right here with my puppy grin

For you and your sneaking on holidays, holidays

What fun to be had

When you've got me here to hit right back

Just some Polly parroting on and on and like you want

What's up with you?

It's never been like you to be back and begging

I've been no good at acting as I should

New Years Eve

My boots clacked against the pavement as I walked to Sabrina’s house, book bag filled to the brim with everything I needed to get ready for tonight. I knock on the large front door and am greeted by Sabrina, wrapped in a robe with her makeup half done and her hair up in a towel.

We greet each other and she leads me upstairs to her room, clothes sprawled out everywhere. I trip over a pair of heels and she profusely apologizes, throwing them across the room, landing on top of a pile of purses.

“Sorry I can’t fucking figure out what I wanna wear, which is preventing me from starting my eye makeup. Can you help?” I nod my head and start picking up dresses from her bed, inspecting each one.

“Ooo what about this one?” I ask, reaching back behind her bed. It was a black sparkly mini dress that she bought online a few months ago but never wore. I remember watching her buy it off her laptop in second period.

“Oh my GOD yes!” she screams, giving me a hug. I help her shove all of her clothes into her closet and start setting up my own little station by her mirror, applying my makeup.

“So who do you think you’re gonna kiss tonight?” I finally ask as I wrap a piece of hair around the hot wand. Sabrina peaks out from the bathroom and smirks.

“Haven’t decided.” she says before spraying hairspray on her head. “I’ve been hooking up with DJ Gabe for only like a week but there’s no strings attached.”

“What about Topper?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her. He was the host of tonights New Years Eve outing.

“What about him?” she responds sweetly, admiring herself in the mirror.

“What do you mean what about him” I say with a laugh, finishing up with the last strand of hair that needed to be curled. I spritz some hair spray on it then run a comb through the curls to loosen them up.

“No idea what you’re talking about” she says with a grin on her face. She walks out of the room and I roll my eyes, grabbing my dress and begin to slip it on.

The description on the website I found it from was “Femme Clubwear Gold Sequin Sleeveless Halter Backless Mini Dress” I hadn’t tried it on since purchasing so I was praying it would fit fine. If it didn’t at least I knew Sabrina had plenty of extras to let me wear.

Sabrina’s hopes for the night was to go home with the DJ from my birthday party. I had no motives for the night except to get drunk.

As if she read my mind, she reentered the room with a champagne bottle and two flutes in her hand.

“God you look so good!” she exclaims. “I have to put mine on now.” she shoves the bottle and glasses into my hand and runs to her bathroom to change. I pour the glasses full and hand one out to her when she exits.

“You look perfect.” I compliment her.

“Dude I know.” she says, walking over to her mirror and taking a selfie. I giggle at her and pull out my phone. It was 9:33 and I had a text from Rafe.

What’re you wearing tonight?

Something sexy

Send me a picture

You’ll have to wait till you see it on my instagram

You’re such a tease … Give me the color at least

Gold

Wow that is sexy

What’s your plans for tonight

Slummin it with Sarah while she whines about not getting a New Years kiss with johnbee

:( Be nice to her

Only because you told me to.

Top’s throwin tonight we’re about to leave

Im jealous

You should be :p

Shut up

Make me

Dont ask for things you dont actually want

What if i do

“Who’re you texting?” she says, taking a sip of champagne trying to peak down at my phone.

“No one important.” I say, clicking my phone off.

“When are you gonna tell me whats going on between you and Rafe?”

“Dont know what you’re talking about.” I say, mimicking her response from my probing questions earlier.

“I see the way he looks at you. And the way he touches you. He doesn’t do that with anyone else. And I mean anyone.” She pours herself another full glass and tops mine off.

“We’ve known each other for a while. I grew up around them so he probably just thinks of me like a sister or something.” I say shrugging.

“You and I both know he does not treat Sarah the same way he treats you so don’t even try that.” she says, with a serious face this time.

“Why does it matter Sab?” I ask, my face getting flustered. I let the topic go earlier about her and Top, but she wasn’t letting this one go.

“You guys would be cute.” she finally says after a few seconds of silence. I roll my eyes and walk over to my bag, pulling out my heels.

“That’s not what it is.” I huff.

“HA so something IS going on!”

I decide to give in. I knew Sabrina wouldn’t tell anyone and it was getting hard to keep it a secret from her anymore.

“Fine. We slept together. A few times. But that’s it.”

“And you’re texting.”

“He’s in Bora Bora.”

“He’s on vacation .. and hes on his phone texting you.”

“Its barely a conversation, let alone an intelligent one. No substance. He’s just bored.” I say defensively, buckling the clip of my heels on and standing up.

“This is so hot.” she says with a huge smile across her face. “I can’t believe your fucking Rafe. Is he good?” she asks.

I down the flute of champagne, pouring myself another glass before answering.

“Yea it’s pretty good.” I state. I check my phone to see that Rafe hadn’t answered. I frown slightly and look back over to Sabrina.

“Ready to go?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 11:45 and I was alone. A bottle of champagne in one hand and a joint in the other. I had stolen a few cigarettes from some random pack that was left unattended on the bar. Everyone was hammered, the music was too loud and I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I stumbled down the hill of Topper’s backyard and made my way to the pier, walking closer to the edge by the water. I sit down on the edge and light both the joint and the cig.

The bass of the music rumbled down to the deck, vibrating the water below. I checked my phone again and saw that Rafe still hadn’t texted me back. I chugged a mouthful of champagne back and opened the spotify app. I was in the mood to listen to anything else other than house music.

The first song that plays on shuffle was Ribs. I laughed and turned the volume up, taking a drag from each of the lit sticks in my hands.

“What’re you doing out here?” The voice makes me practically jump out of my skin. I hadn’t heard the footsteps due to my intoxication and music rumbling around me. I turn my head to see the dark figure walking closer. The light at the edge of the deck where I sat illuminated their face.

It was Rafe.

“What are you doing here?” I squeak out.

“Dad had some business he needed to get back to so I hitched a ride with him.”

I rose to my feet and he walked closer to me.

“How long have you been home? How long have you been here?” My heart was racing and I felt insecure, realizing at the sight he was looking at. Me, crossed and alone on new years, listening to Lorde.

“We landed around 10, I got here around 11. ’ve been lookin for you. “

“You could’ve texted me.”

“That would’ve ruined the surprise” he says with a smirk, stepping closer. He takes the bottle out of my hand and takes a swig. He then takes the joint out of my hand, taking a long drag. “Looks like I have some catching up to do.” he chuckles, and sits down next to my phone on the pier.

After a few seconds, I sit next to him, about a foot of space between us. I stare out into the water, finishing up the cig, passing it to him for the last hit it had. He takes a drag and bums it out on the deck. He passes me back the bottle and joint and cracks his knuckles. I take a few sips before breaking the silence.

“How could you leave Bora Bora a week early?”

“Didn’t want to be alone on New Years.”

“Like I am” I snort. He looks over to me. For the first time, his eyes are soft. His pupils aren’t dilated like they usually are when we’re at events like this, an effect from the white powder he snorts. I never see him sober anymore.

Hurricane by Halsey starts to play from my phone, filling the silence that had fallen between us again.

That’s exactly what he made me feel inside. Like there was a fucking storm brewing. I wanted to run and hide from the way he made me feel so I didn’t have to accept it. Like I had whiplash from his emotions. I never knew if he was going to say something nice or something mean. I never knew what mood he would be in. He was always lingering, I never knew when to expect to see him. Like tonight. He just appeared. He tore me open, left me devastated. And I liked it.

“Well now we’re here. Not alone anymore.” he finally says. A shiver runs up my spine and I hand him back the bottle. I had reached my limit for the night. The world felt like it was spinning, his surprise appearance leaving me in a haze. A dreamlike state. I wanted to pinch myself to check if this was even real or if I blacked out and this was a dream.

A countdown from the house rumbled through the air. Rafe put the bottle down and inched towards me. My breath hitched and I felt my hands start to shake. His hand reaches up to cup the side of my face and I look at him. His eyes still soft.

When the crowd chants Happy New Year, he leans in and presses his lips against mine. Its the sweetest he’s ever kissed me. My shaky hands trail up and hold his neck, pressing myself up, deeper into the kiss. When we finally break free, he keeps his face close to mine.

“Happy New Year.” he whispers. Fireworks erupt from someones house across the water, lighting his face up with color.

“Take me home.”

Rafe led the way up the hill back to the Cameron estate, holding my hand and the other holding onto my heels that I had taken off.

When we walk inside the house is quiet and dark. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen and we go upstairs. We turn left at the top of the stairs, instead of my usual right to Sarah’s room. I held my breath when walking in, it felt odd going into his room. I haven’t been inside of it since I was like 11.

It looked vaguely familiar from all those years ago, posters of his favorite artists and cars he liked, his desk with random papers piled on it. His closet door was closed, a few jackets hung from the back of the door. His floor was clean, which was a nice surprise from a teenage boy. His sheets were black and had a white knitted throw blanket on top.

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached his arms out, pulling me onto his lap, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

“This dress is breathtaking.” he whispers. His hand trails from my cheek, fingers hovering over my bottom lip. I stay as still as possible, keeping eye contact with him. His thumb holds my chin, pulling my face closer to his.

“What do you want pretty girl?” he says, his breath lingers over my mouth and I hesitate for a second to answer.

“I want you.” I finally say, releasing the breath I had been holding. He presses his mouth against mine, I part mine open, letting his tongue circle around inside. I begin to unbutton his top, and unbuckle his pants. When they fall to the floor, I go down with them, on my knees in front of Rafe. He visibly gulps and I begin to palm his length on the outside of his boxers. They were Calvin Klein this time. I start to pepper kisses along his happy trail, teasing the band of his boxers, I can feel his abs flex, and he runs his fingers through my hair.

I finally pull his boxers off, his cock slapping up against his abdomen.

“Hold my hair for me?” I ask, battling my lashes up at him. He nods his head feverishly, swiping it all up into his grip in one go. I spit on the top of his tip and hear his breathing get ragged.

Taking him in slowly, I wrap my lips around his tip, letting my spit drop down his shaft, using my hand to spread the saliva around. I swirl my tongue around his tip and look up at him, his eyes are squeezed shut.

I push myself down his length, trying to my hardest to make it down to his base without gagging. He bucks up into my mouth, making his tip hit the back of my throat. Tears brim my eyes and I feel drool dripping from the corners of my mouth. His eyes are still squeezed tight, his chest glistening against the warm light shining from the corner of the room.

Rafe’s hand pulls my hair up and he pushes back down, bobbing my head on his cock. I let him take over completely, and his hips start to thrust up into my mouth, his bottom lip tight between his teeth, he grunts loudly with each thrust.

“Fuck ‘M gonna cum.” he whsipers, a soft whine coming from his mouth as hes unable to keep his composure before filling my mouth with his cum, shooting straight down the back of my throat.

I swallow everything he released into my mouth, wiping the outside corners with the back of my hand. Rafe releases his grip on my hair and I sit up on my knees, batting my eyelashes up at him for my next direction.

“I’m sorry I might be out of commission for tonight.” he says sheepishly, pulling his boxers back on and scratching the back of his head.

“It’s alright. I owed you anyways.” I respond before standing up and walking around to pick up my shoes. From the corner of my eye I see Rafe frown, and rub his hands on his face.

“You headin out already?” he finally says after a few seconds of silence. I nod and walk back over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to him, attempting to put my shoes on.

“You know, you can stay here if you’d like. Its dangerous out there.” I chuckle at this and look up to meet his eyes. They’re soft, and he has a vulnerable look on his face, something I haven’t seen in a very long time.

“I dont know Rafe, we usually don’t do that.” I say, trying to respect the non existent boundaries of our relationship. We’ve never even talked about what this is, let alone what was allowed. He chews on his lip nervously, another few seconds of silence linger around the room.

“But I want you to stay.” I stop fumbling with my shoes when the words come out of his mouth. I internally debate on what this could mean. It was a line that seemed like it shouldn't be crossed, but looked so inviting to try.

“Can I borrow some clothes then?” I ask. He smiles and jumps off the bed, walking over to his dresser and tossing a pair of boxers and a t shirt. He walks to the ensuite bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinet and pulls out a toothbrush in its packaging.

“You can use my toothpaste. I dont got any makeup remover, but I have some face wash and lotion” he says into the room before starting to brush his own teeth. I slip off the dress I was wearing and place it onto his desk chair, placing the heels under his desk. I plug my phone into the closest outlet, and change into the clothes he provided. When Rafe steps out of the bathroom, I go in after him, using the toiletries he provided me to freshen up.

When I enter back into his bedroom, the last light that remains on is his bedside lamp. Rafe laid flat on his back, with his eyes closed. I crawl onto the bed, coming up beside him. He peaks one eye open and smiles, reaching his arms out to grab and pull me closer, pressing a kiss on my forehead.

I cuddle up against his chest, and he runs his fingers through my hair, falling deeper into sleep with each breath. I wasn’t sure what possessed Rafe to fly home early, and invite me to stay the night at his house, but it worried me that this might mean we had to have some sort of discussion about what was happening. I had no experience with a situation like this before, and Sarah’s words about Rafe and his ill intentions haunted my thoughts.

I thought about what I wanted. I wasn’t actually sure to be honest. I’ve known Rafe forever, I felt comfortable around him and he knows me well. But I also consider that he’s still just a guy with needs and maybe just wants a friends with benefits situation. Which I would be alright with, as long as if he gets to mess around with other people, so do I.

Before I could work myself up anymore about the thought of me and Rafe, soft snores escaped his mouth as he fell asleep. I clutched the side of his body tighter and kisses his cheek, whispering goodnight before resting my head on his chest and falling asleep.

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#rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #obx x y/n #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx fic #obx #obx x reader #rafe x reader

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sturnioloszn · 6 hours ago

Text

MARKED - C.S

summary; you get a new tattoo, and chris has to show you just how much he loves it...

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap the willy), dirty talk, praise, cream pie, hair pulling.

a/n; sorry it took me literally foreverrrr to get a fic out, i did post one, but i actually hated it w every fibre in my being, so... it got cut. whoops. anywayyy, enjoy this one lmaooo.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

I laid on my stomach, with my skin flush against the black leather of the tattoo table when the loud buzzing of the tattoo gun came to a sudden halt and broke me from my daydreams.

"Alright, you're done. I can't believe you did it with no breaks, you're insane," Sam, my tattooer spoke from behind me, gently cleaning and wiping the remaining ink off.

"It's wasn't too bad," I chuckled, peering over to Nick, who shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned over to get a clear look at the finished product.

After what felt like years, I finally sat up from the chair and kept my hands firmly on my shirt to make sure it wouldn't slip and I'd accidently flash a titty, since it was completely open in the back.

I stood up and walked over to the full sized mirror in the corner of the room and stared at my new decoration in awe. I loved it. It was perfect.

"Okay, so since this is a pretty big tattoo, I'll try wrap it as best as possible, but it'll probably start to peel in no time," Sam spoke, following me to the mirror with the wrapping.

Nick and I eventually pay and hop into an Uber to bring us back to his place. "Soo, do you like it?" Nick asks, turning to look at me.

"I don't like it, I LOVE it. He did an amazing job," I complimented, looking down at Nick's new addition to his tattoo collection too.

"I told you Sam is the best," He bragged.

The ride to the house wasn't long at all, but sure enough, the wrapping of my tattoo was already peeling and coming undone. I decided to peel it off completely and just try to deal with it, trying to not cause an infection.

I was so excited to show off my new tattoo that the second Nick unlocked the front door, I sprinted up the stairs into the living room where I found Matt sprawled comfortably on the couch, lazily scrolling on his phone.

"Hey kid, how was it?" He asks, momentarily looking up from his phone.

"It was amazing, wanna see?" I ask with a happy grin plastered on my face. Before even waiting for him to reply, I lifted the back of my shirt up and turned to show him my back.

"Holy shit, it's massive," he says. I crack an immature joke before gloating about the fact that I didn't take a break not once. At this point, Nick had joined Matt on the couch, and they began to discuss his new tattoo aswell but I'm overflowing with excitement to show Chris mine.

"Is Chris in his room?" I ask, receiving a small nod from Matt in reply. I skip my way downstairs to his bedroom and push the door open without even knocking.

I found Chris hunched in his gaming chair, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, with his headset over both ears. He must've not heard me and Nick come in. I sneakily crawled up behind him, placing my two hands on his shoulders.

He jumped out of his skin but instantly relaxed when he realised it was my touch. "Heyyy, you're back," He says, taking his headset off and standing up to place a delicate kiss on my lips and wrap his long arms around my torso.

"Wanna see it?" I ask, jumping out from his embrace. I can't help the smile from returning onto my face, feeling the dopamine course through my veins.

I once again turned to show him my tattoo before even earning his reply to my question. After a few moments of silence, I turn back around, worried about what expression I'd find on his face.

"Do you... like it?" I hesitatantly ask. However, his expression doesn't falter except that he's now looking into my eyes.

"Do I like it?" He repeats, taking slow but profound steps towards me, filling my surroundings entirely with his presence. "I fucking love it, it's so sexy," he whispers, now standing face to face with me.

He connects his palm to the side of my face and guides me closer to him, connecting our lips. Our kiss was passionate and meaningful until it wasn't. His lips roughly crashed into mine again, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth with ease.

"Y'gonna let me fuck you and look at your new tattoo, hm?" He mutters, barely separating himself from me. I whine in return, letting him know that I need it more than he could imagine.

As he continues to bite and suck at my sore lips, his hands roam my body, slowly peeling off layers of my clothes. I'm eventually left in just my underwear, which he doesn't hesitate to discard, alongside the rest of my clothes.

"Ass up, face down, baby," he orders, quickly discarding his own clothes, littering them on the floor until we're equally as bare. I moved onto the centre on his bed, doing just what he asked; pressing my face into his mattress and arching my back so that my ass was in the air.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, coming up behind me. I feel him grip my hips tightly before placing a few firm slaps on my ass, eleciting some yelps and moans from me.

Without warning, he slams his entire length into me, making me scream into the sheets. "Y'ggotta be quiet baby, can't have Matt or Nick know how much you love my cock,"

My moans grow louder and louder as he ruthlessly rams me from behind, hitting that amazing spot that makes me feel like I'm in heaven.

"Sh-it, Chr-is, too mu-ch," I moan and whimper between his thrusts. His hands fall from my hips and move to my hair, gathering it together, forming a makeshift ponytail.

He yanks on my hair, pulling me up from the mattress, and sticks our two sweaty bodies together as he continues his solid pace.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful, I love your new tattoo... looks so fuckin' good," he grunts. I feel my end drawing near, and with a few more harsh thrusts, I feel my orgasm crash over me. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my pussy squeezes around his cock, begging for him to also finish. "..love how tight you are f'me, mh,"

He let's go of my hair, making me flop down back onto the mattress, and his hands find their way back to my hips, roughly grabbing them. He somehow snaps his hips even faster, making my second orgasm fast approaching. The headboard of the bed is banging against the wall, and there's no hiding what is happening anymore.

He snakes one of his hands around me, reaching over to my clit, rubbing it viciously. At this stage I've lost all self control and I release my fluids all over his cock for a second of time.

"Fuck! Just like that, come on my cock," He moans, filling me with his own release. His movements begin to slow, but he continues moving his hips, fucking his cum into me.

I feel him pull his limp cock out of me and stare at his work of art; our mixed fluids dripping out of my pussy and onto the sheets. The only sound heard now is our heavy breathing, which is desperately trying to return to normal.

After a few hours filled with cuddling and laughter, Chris and I decided to scavenge the kitchen for any food we could find, but as soon as we came up the stairs Matt and Nick stare at us from the couch.

"You could've just said you liked her new tattoo,we didn't all have to hear it," Matt grimaces, standing up and leaving, with Nick trailing his footsteps shortly after.

"Well... at least you know?" Chris jokes, turning to me. We break into laughter, and the rest of the night is filled with the same laughter and love.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; this is definitely better than the last fic i posted lmaoo, also my requests r open so feel free to leave some ideas! hope u enjoyed this, love you all <33

Taglist; @idrk2292 @clairesrose @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo tumblr #sturniolo nation

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madamechrissy · 5 hours ago

Text

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x Fem reader- some Gojo x reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Choso has a tongue ring for reasons... oh and a dick piercing for other reasons. In this chapter, teasing, sexual tension, cunnilingus, explicit sex, lots of confusion, jealous angst. Warning- the reader and Choso are with other ppl (just kissing but still) friends w/benefits

💜 Word Count: this chap - 9k

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️Comments and reblogs appreciated ✨️

Chapter Two 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Three

“What do you mean… you’re… going… fuck you feel s’good.” Choso is moaning in your ear as he’s fucking you, bent over the bathroom sink, his cock pumping inside of you, even with a condom he feels how good and perfect your pussy is, clenching down on him. “On a date with him?”

“Cho… ah!” You scream out, arching your ass up for more of his strokes, the way his piercing hits your g spot makes you incoherent, you’re soaking his length all the way down to his and your thighs, making a sticky mess. Your eyes catch his expression in the mirror, as fucked out as yours. “S’not a- mmm- date!”

Tattooed, strong biceps wrap around your body, those big hands gripping and squishing your breasts as he shoves his cock in deep, making your eyes roll back, as you begin cumming all over his cock. You both share a moan, Choso is burying his face in your neck, hot breath tickling your ear as he exhales, soft dark hair against your cheek.

He feels so good inside you, so good your knees are weak. You are nearly collapsing, now Choso has to hold you up entirely, fucking into you more, making your tits jiggle with each thrust. “Why… him…”

“Cho… you have… a date too!” You scowl at his reflection now, earning his cute little pout, his brows together.

“But- fuck, pussy is so good - you shouldn’t.”

“Then you- ah - shouldn’t! Just… friends, yeah?” You say softly, hiccuping on your words as he pinches your nipples, twisting them as he pounds your cervix.

“Cum on your best friend’s cock right, then, hmm?” He orders, so demanding and sexy suddenly, and you obey, cumming so hard you’re blinded this time, pulsing all around his cock. Choso moans out, pushing in deep and rocking his hips, turning your face to the side, so that you look at him.

You choke up when his violet eyes hit you, trembling and trying to focus, he’s fuzzy, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, and you taste his sweet breath on yours lips now. You lean forward, kissing him, which is your undoing, it has been the past couple times before this, when you kiss him you can’t pretend, can’t pretend you don’t care he’s going on a date today, and so are you.

You can’t pretend this is how friends behave.

But you can’t ruin what you do have, he feels too fucking perfect inside you, and now he’s throbbing, thickening, you feel him starting to cum hot in his condom, that heat inside your entrance, walls flutterign around it. And fuck if you’re not wishing instead he could bust in you without one. Which is fucking insane, but friends certainly don’t do that, do they?

Choso whimpers against your lips, vulnerable and sweet as he cums, rocking gently now, cupping your face so gently. “You’re so pretty, you’re so beautiful-”

“D-don’t say that.” You manage to whisper, tears pricking your eyes, making him sigh as he kisses you again, still snug inside you, your body pressed against his sink, legs dangling how he has you, has all of you.

“You are, I told you I’ll n-never lie. Your pussy is perfect.” You struggle not to speak your heart, you’ll ruin this, and now that Choso is going on a date, you don’t know how long this will continue.

“You feel good in me too. I love it.” You whisper, before you can think better. Choso eases out then, throwing out the condom after he sets you to stand on wobbly knees, holding onto you.

“I love being inside you. Never felt anything better.” He’s brushing your hair back, and you’re shaking your head. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Don’t even call me that.” You push at him, pulling up your shorts and yanking down your top, he tries to slide it up, frowning as he kisses on your breasts.

“What, why can’t I? I always have.” He murmurs against your skin, and you tremble at his touch, goosebumps rising before you pull away, looking in the mirror and fixing your hair.

“I just can’t hear it. When’s your date?” He scowls then, something Choso really never does, dark brows low over his eyes.

“When’s yours?.

“Not a date, and I asked you first.”

“That’s different, she’s just some girl and grabbing something to eat. He’s Gojo. You simped over him all of-”

“I know, ugh. It’s just a drink, Cho, to catch up. I’m not a little lovesick girl anymore, you know.” You sigh, putting yourself together, looking in the mirror, avoiding his violet gaze. Your legs are literally still shaking, you can barely collect yourself, breaths coming in little pants.

“And when is the ‘not date’?” He asks again, you look at him, exasperated.

“Cho, we agreed we wouldn’t date seriously again, that’s the point of this, right? Being friends with benefits? So what makes you think I’ll be serious about him.”

“Because he’s always been your fixation.”

“Yes well, we both had them I guess.” You murmur, stepping out of the bathroom then, it’s too small, too overheated. You try to take several breaths to compose yourself, as he follows you.

“If you leave every time we have sex, I’m gonna start worrying.”

“You know you’re amazing at it. I just don’t wanna make it weird.” He pauses you now, tilting your chin up, pressing you against the front door of his home now.

“You can still hang out with me, you know. I missed you.” He whispers, you sigh, nodding then.

“Me too. I have a bit of time before I get ready, do you?”

“I have to practice, but you should come watch, yeah?” You nod then, smiling, you’re overthinking all this, he’s just Cho Bear, right?

You’re his best friend. That’s it.

Best friend who he just…

“I’d love to watch you all. I’ll get ready and come see you all before I go on the… it’s not a date you know.”

He purses his lips. “Mmhmm.”

“And you didn’t answer about yours.” You tap him on the chest playfully, seeing the strong muscles tense as you barely touch him, fingertips trailing up his tattoo slowly, watching his breath catch before you pull away. “Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He holds your hand now, both of you looking at each other in the quiet of the living room, it’s too fucking intense, you have to pull away, before you say something stupid… “But no, we’re just getting dinner tonight, that’s all really.”

“She’s pretty.” His brows draw together a bit, sighing.

“Gojo’s pretty.” You giggle then.

“You’re pretty, Cho Bear.” You tease, and he leans down now, cupping your face gently.

“You’re beautiful.”

Fuck.

You’re trembling as you hold in so much, how can he be so very casual about saying things like that, about wrecking your resolve. “Beautiful best friend?”

“Mmhmm. Prettiest friend ever.” You smile a bit, feeling your chest tighten, aching to draw his lips to yours. How does adding the physical suddenly make your mind so mushy? “So you’re not going out on this seriously?”

“Not at all, just for… like the hell of it.”

“If he hurts you I’ll kill him.”

“Cho!” He just glares.

His phone rings then, and you use it as your exit, you truly need to breathe, ignore the fact that your pussy is still throbbing from aftershocks of him inside you, ignore the tenderness on your throat from his big hands. You can’t complicate things further with Choso, you currently can’t handle how much he is occupying your every single thought.

When you’re home and getting dressed for later, you can’t help but wonder how you both got into this, well it was your idea. And it was your idea to show up and Choso’s place to fuck him this morning, it’s not as if Choso called you, no you called him and came over, eager for him after a week of not having him at all. You had avoided the shit out of him after that concert.

Seeing him with that girl hurt, especially since he’d just been inside of you, raw too, did that now not mean something? To a girl who always wanted things to be so special, now you wonder at yourself. Because Choso felt special, and Ino had never felt that way, it felt more like what was supposed to happen, it was the progression of a serious relationship.

It didn’t hurt that Choso and Yuki had gotten so close and your friendship was strained, seeing him in that mall ring shopping with Yuji had made you realize just how serious he was for her. You and Ino had talked a bit about future plans but weren’t as far as that.

Choso doesn’t know you saw him, but you did, and any lingering wonders about him that day you had put far behind you. Now, everything has shifted and changed, you’re running out on your best friend after his cock is inside you, purely because you don’t know what will spill out of your mouth.

“Baby girl, you’re dickmatized.” Your best friend says now on video chat, Utahime. You sigh, smiling at her, pretty brunette and sassy as fuck. “How the fuck are you gonna go out with Gojo though!?”

“You just hate him.”

“Of course I do! Oooh, that outfit. Slay.” You smile and do a little spin in the pretty outfit, it’s chilly today so it’s a tan sweater with black tights and little brown boots. “Add a belt!”

“Of course. Now listen… what do you mean dickmatized? By Cho?”

She lights up a blunt, you jokingly try to grab it from the phone screen, making her snort in laughter. “Yes, by Cho. You absolutely are, look at you.”

“Dickmatized. I’m dickmatized.” You mutter to yourself now, smacking your forehead and sighing. “That’s all it is!”

“When you get good dick, it really fucks your mind up. So first off, you need to make sure that’s all it is, because that boy seemed in love with you.”

“He loved Yuki, ‘Hime.” You slip on a light tan belt, admiring the outfit in the mirror, bending over now to slap on some lip gloss.

“He definitely was down bad for her. But Gojo in response!? Really.”

“I may have seen Cho with a pretty blond girl before I said yes.”

Utahime sighs at that, shaking her head, pretty black locks falling as she leans forward. “Feelings from just a couple dick sessions? God help you.”

You glare now. “Bye!”

“Bitch… sorry.” You snort and roll your eyes. “Don’t fuck Gojo for the love of all that is good. Who knows what he’s got, he’s a hoe.”

“Don’t I know it. But… I mean I’m literally fucking my friend. Can I judge currently?” She sighs, hitting her blunt as you pick back up the phone.

“Trust me you’re a long way from him. You know, I love Choso, I really do, but be careful. He falls fast and hard, don’t wanna accidentally hurt him.” You nod now, smiling into the phone.

“I agree. Ugh, I miss you! Come back home soon.”

“I will be home next week, let me enjoy my vacay. Horny ass.” You glare and she laughs at you. “What I can’t joke, you were always such a good girl.”

“I know I’m corrupted.”

“Dickmatized.”

“That. All right, love you!”

“Love you too. Don’t fuck Gojo.”

“Jesus.” You hang up the phone, and none other than Satoru Gojjo is texting you, your heart does still do that little high school jump, despite the shit memories.

‘Gojo I… what do you mean? What did I do wrong?’ you’d had tears in your eyes as you had asked the question, dancing with Satoru Gojo at prom finally. He looks down at you with cold, crystal blue eyes, ones you could stare into forever.

‘You want things so serious, and I just am interested in fun. It’s nothing personal, sweets.’

‘I can be fun!’ You pout and he smirks a bit, like the charming jerk he could be, his big hand pressing your back, against his chest. You immediately get flustered, and he’s chuckling.

‘You’re a good girl. It’s cute but not my thing. I plan on having a pretty fun prom night, if you catch me?’ he looks over to the several girls, cheerleaders of course it was what he usually went for, not shy girls like you with your nose in a book. It had been some miracle he’d ever noticed you.

‘I… Gojo we can… um…’ Your heart races as he finishes the dance, leaning over and pressing his lips against yours, when he tries to deepen the kiss, hands slipping down to your ass, you tense a bit, so nervous. ‘I just need a little time is all!’

‘You keep being a cute little virgin, it’s all good. Thanks for the dance.’ You’re trembling now, feeling sobs choke you up, he raises a thin brow. ‘You crying?’

‘N-no. I… Gojo, please…’ Gojo leaves then, arms around two of the girls, throwing you an arrogant peace sign, you’re alone in the middle of the dance floor, everyone watching you, whispering about you.

Suddenly you’re in his arms, Choso’s arms, he’s pulling you against him, swaying side to side, and you blink and look up at him. He’d opted to wear a black band shirt under a suit jacket, his hair spiked up in places, choker on his neck. He’s still your best friend Choso, even at a formal prom.

‘You don’t have to, people are making fun of me.’ You whisper, voice breaking in the middle, Choso frowns then.

‘You’re my best friend, and no one gets to make fun of you. What happened?’ You ease in his hold, a hand on his shoulder, the neon lights of spinning disco balls illuminating his handsome face.

Handsome.

Choso was handsome.

But, he was only your friend.

And your best friend, right?

‘He broke up with me.’

‘On the dance floor!? At prom!?’

‘Because I’m too… I’m not fun, Cho.’ He spins you then, frowning.

‘I think you’re fun.’

You feel your cheeks heating up embarrassingly. ‘I’m not fun, Cho, not like he wants.’

Choso blinks, glaring now. ‘So because you won’t fuck him so soon he’s leaving you? What kind of dude does that?’

‘I tensed when we kissed, I didn’t go far enough-’

‘Shh.’ He holds you against his chest now, your arms are around his neck, you’re feeling so safe, hiding your emotions against his black jacket. ‘Don’t change for anyone, you’re perfect the way you are.’

You shake yourself out of your reverie as you pull up at Choso’s home, hearing the music blaring from the garage already. Satoru Gojo had truly been terrible back in high school, it was a mean thing to do, and Choso had come to your rescue. But… he’d done it because of your bond, how do you go and ruin that?

“Dickmatized.” You murmur again, walking in the garage now, Megumi smiles a bit at you, waving, but Yuji runs up and hugs you like a happy puppy.

“Hey! You’re here!” You laugh a bit as he picks you up and spins you.

“Holy… you got strong, what happened?” He holds a well toned bicep out and flexes, grinning, you just laugh at how sweet he is. “Working out?”

“All the time! My muscles are almost as big as Choso’s.” You smile as Chose walks back in, seeing you and smiling, licking his lower lip, you damn near overheat when you see that ball on the barbell of his ring, remembering the insane things he did last week with it.

You’d been so eager this morning you’d told him to just fuck you, and you’d been soaking wet before he touched you, that’s how stupid your body was reacting. You’d kissed him and throbbed, eagerly stripping him until you all somehow ended up in his bathroom, you’re still not sure how, you’d been too entranced in all of his kisses, his touches.

“Hey angel, you came.” He says with a smile, coming to hug you now, fuck even his hugs get you, his scent…

Dickmatized.

“Of course I did, lemme see what you all got.”

“A challenge.” Megumi says, swirling his drumsticks, and Yuji is bouncing up at the chance to impress you, you barely can look Choso in the damn eyes, so intense, not knowing how to just act normal. You needed to.

You sit now and watch them as they start the set, listening to the beat of the drums, the bass from the guitar, and Choso’s smooth as silk voice. His long fingers with those painted black nails wrap the mic, and he starts singing lyrics you’ve heard a ton of times, but for some reason it’s as if he’s singing them to you.

You’re feeling like some dumb high school girl again, and that was years ago, gosh almost six years since that prom night. When you finally stopped being such a lovesick fool. But you can’t stop your heart from racing, your eyes from trailing down Choso’s long torso in this tight black shirt of his, that shows his rippling biceps and veiny forearms.

Arms that had you bent over a bathroom sink this morning.

Stop that.

The music wraps around you in the garage, you’re focusing on it now, focusing on the three of them. Choso is the best older brother in the whole fucking world, taking care of Yuji as he had, and you love to see them interact, Yuji’s adorable infectious grin shining out from a serious, focused Megumi, and an intense Choso. You know all the words to the songs, singing along silently, so as not to overtake Choso.

You have heard them play a hundred times, but they’ve never felt like this before, those lyrics Choso wrote, surely about Yuki.

And all I see when I close my eyes is you.

Choso’s eyes keep catching yours and you can’t stop the tightening in your tummy, while you mouth the words with him. Yuki, surely. Couldn’t be you, this was a song from months ago. So don’t be so stupid, so foolish, don’t think that you’re suddenly in his heart because he fucks you.

You suck at this.

You watch him, his hand moving over the strings of the guitar slung over his chest, along with Yuji now, hips swaying with a grace that’s almost mesmerizing, his eyes closed in concentration, those long lashes fluttered shut. You see the sweat dripping from his brow just so, making his neck glimmer with the thin sheen as he leans closer to sing again.

Like a jolt to the heart.

There’s a jolt in your entire body as you keep watching him, trying to also focus on Megs and Yuji so you weren’t so fucking obvious, but the way Choso’s body is swaying with the rhythm makes you damn near drool. You start to feel your heart race faster along with every beat and every word, and you’re pretending it’s the music or the way he’s looking at you.

You’re up and dancing now to the beat, they all smile as they play and watch you, you’re letting it pick up your hips and move you, moving to the rhythm. Megumi’s drumming is like a heartbeat, steady and strong, driving the song forward. Yuji’s playing is more intense than ever, as if he’s trying to outdo Choso in some unspoken competition.

But Choso…

Choso opens his eyes again, looking directly at you. You hold your breath, feeling like the entire world has stopped spinning for just a moment as he finishes the lyrics.

And I fall for you. Over and over again.

The music dies down, and the garage is filled with the sound of your own racing heart thrumming in your ears, for a moment you’re so entranced by his violet eyes and those words you just stand there. You clear your throat then, jumping up and down and clapping as they all smile.

“It was great, guys. Really. Oh my god you’re gonna kill the next show!” You say then, and they are beaming now, especially Yuji, who comes up and hugs you again, you notice Choso glaring just a bit.

Confusing.

“You’ll be at the next show right?” Megumi asks you now, you nod then, earning a little quirk of his lips as he fixes up the spiky black hair of his. “Good.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I told Cho I never missed one, I just had to hide because… well Yuki hated me.” Yuji rolls his eyes, and Choso tenses as they put up their instruments.

“She was so mean.” Yuji says. “I’m glad we didn’t buy a ring.”

“Yuji…” Choso starts, but you smile.

“For the best maybe?”

Choso nods, no need for you to say that fucking Ino was partially because you watched that shopping trip happen. Now you know he didn’t buy one but…

Choso’s phone starts dinging and he peers at it. “The date?” Yuji asks.

“Not a date, I don’t want to date any time soon. Just grabbing a bite with a big fan is all.”

“Uh huh sure.” Choso scoffs, shoving at Yuji, as your own phone goes off, and Satoru’s name pops up.

Jock Gojo: (You’re not sorry for this name in your phone btw) I’m heading in twenty, sweets.

You: I’ll head that way.

Jock Gojo: Sounds good.

“I have to head out, you all. Thanks so much for showing me your music, you know I am proud of you all.” Megumi shyly smiles and Yuji beams, but Choso’s mouth is stern as he looks down at your phone curiously.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Choso says, you wave at the boys as he leads you over, you inhale the fresh air, trying to let the breeze cool you down, you’re overheated when Choso is standing so close to you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear nervously, Choso takes in your outfit now, hands gently brushing down the soft knit of your sweater. “Do you like it? It’s cool enough to wear now.”

“It’s pretty on you. But you always look pretty.” You bite on your lip now, unable to look at him, just watching his hand against your sleeve as it traces it, the tattooed hand that could wrap your throat so easy.

“Thanks, Cho Bear.” You playfully nudge him, and he clears his throat, smiling down at you, as if coming out of his own thoughts.

“Just a drink huh?”

“Yeah. Not a whole dinner like you, Casanova.”

Choso scoffs, leaning against your car, crossing his arms. “It’s literally a bite to eat, nothing fancy. I wouldn’t have said yes if you hadn’t told me to go ‘have fun’. I took it as you…”

“You seemed to be having a lot of fun.” He blinks then and you sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“After we hooked up at the club, well I came to find you, to apologize for being so weird about this. And…”

“Shit.” He exhales, hand on his face now.

“No, it’s cool. I just… I mean we just had… and like raw even? And it was so weird to me, to see you with someone immediately-”

“I’m so-”

“No, no it’s fine. Swear. It is just my preconceived notions of what sex was supposed to be. I am glad you had fun, and I hope you have a lot of fun with her.” Choso’s eyes are serious, mouth in a stern line when you gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“That hurt your feelings, stop lying.” You gulp, shaking your head. “You think after being best friends for ten years I don’t know you?”

“But it shouldn’t have.”

“But it did.”

You feel him looking right through you, calling you the fuck out. You shake your head now, heading to the driver's side door, bending to open it up, but he’s right against your back, you feel his entire body hard and strong, so tall he takes you over, his hands braced right on the hood of your car as he does. You feel his breath against your cheek as he bends down low.

“Cho what are you doing?” You whisper, looking back at him, he’s too close, so close you can’t think, a hand slipping up your waist now, reaching around to splay the expanse of it over your sweater.

“I’m sorry that hurt you, you don’t deserve to be hurt. I swear I was just upset because you ran and…”

“It’s okay I’ll never be mad at you.”

“Promise?” You nod and he exhales, his lips far too close. “If I said what’s on my mind you’d be mad.”

“What is it? Annoyed about Gojo?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing you say would make me mad at you. You’re the sweetest friend in the world.”

“Am I so sweet?” Choso’s hand presses against your tummy as his lips press against the shell of your ear, making you tremble. “Thinking of how I’d love to pump cum in your pussy before you go out with him.”

You gasp, his words talking right to your damn pussy, you feel him pressing more and imagine him there so deep. “You…”

“Dripping my cum all night.” His hand lowers, barely brushing against the hood of your clit over your tights. You’re shaking so much your knees are almost knocking together, ass arching up, feeling his strong thighs against it.

“You don’t mean that.” You say softly, earning his quiet laugh, he ghosts his fingers over your clit, before letting you go, and you exhale, looking at him incredulously now. “You’re what… kidding?”

“You think I’m kidding?”

“It’s not like you Cho!”

“Do you really know me all the way?” He asks, and you bite your lip again, turning to look up at him, the car now cold against your back. He gently takes your lower lip out of your teeth’s grip, thumb brushing over the indentations.

“I know you like the back of my hand. I thought so at least. You can’t say things like that, they confuse me.”

“What’s confusing? Me cumming inside you?” He leans forward, cold metal necklace brushing on your exposed collarbone, he’s tilting your chin up, you’re lost in the violet depths of his eyes, as the lights are setting outside, the night descending, encapsulating everything in pinks and purples.

“We said it was too intimate.”

“Maybe I want-” Your phone goes off again, you glance at it, watching his jaw lock now. “Gotta go?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, backing away now, just in time for Yuji to run out, waving goodbye. Choso closes your door, and you gulp down the horrible feelings as you drive off.

What the fuck was that.

Satoru Gojo whistles as you enter the martini bar, you smile a bit and roll your eyes, he’s in a fancy expensive ass dress shirt and slacks, looking like a million bucks, you feel just a little underdressed. You nervously look down at your outfit, as his icy blue eyes follow. “You look good, fuck.”

“I’d have dressed up more if I knew you were.” He takes you by the hand, letting you do a spin, whistling and earning your flushed cheeks.

“No, the sweater dress is cute as fuck. I just like to dress up everywhere, literally go to the gas station like this.” He grins, a flash of white teeth.

“Prissy ass.” You tease, and he laughs, still holding your hand in his, and fuck Gojo’s fingers were long, ridiculously huge, taking yours over completely. You look down nervously, so curious about him then.

“Thanks for coming, I thought you’d blow me off.”

“I should have. Pulled a prom.”

His mouth forms an O, brows knitting together. “Ouch. Sit, sit.”

You sit next to him, and he holds up two fingers, getting one of the waitresses' attention. She fawns over him, and he’s winking at her, looking at her name tag lazily. “Can I get two martinis for us please? Oh and some of that famous cake.”

“Coming right away Mr. Gojo!” She runs off and you expect Gojo to stare at her ass honestly, but he doesn’t, he leans back in his seat, an arm around your shoulders casually, you inhale that extravagant cologne of his as you lean in a bit.

“You still wear the same scent.” You say, before you curse yourself.

“You remember that?” He asks, a brow raised, you nod a bit. “Huh. Yeah, I have always worn it, that’s true. Ya like it?”

He’s wiggling his brows now, with a big ass grin. “It smells good, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess. Well, you smell good too, sweet. Like cupcakes.”

You can’t stop your giggle. “Cupcakes!”

“Mmm, my favorite. Vanilla.”

“Well I’m not vanilla.”

“No?” You’re heating up again, ignoring his smirk with a little glare, taking the drinks the waitress hands, she also hands Satoru her number.

You can’t blame her, there was a time you were obsessed with him. You still feel a bit of the butterflies, especially at the proximity you two were in, but you know also what you’re feeling for Choso is intense. And it’s something you shouldn’t be feeling, or even thinking about truly.

I wanna cum inside you

What the ever loving fuck was that!?

“So how have you been? What work do you do?” Satoru asks, and you smile a bit then.

“I actually do admin work.”

“Boring.”

“Very.” You giggle then. “Your work is boring too.”

“Sure the fuck is. But I tend to find my own fun.” He’s sipping his martini, crossing his legs now, fingertips slipping down where your sweater slides off one shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Banging assistants on your desk?” You quip.

“How’d you know? Want a new job?”

“Oh god.” You can’t help your laugh as he’s chuckling, sipping on your martini, exhaling a bit. “Mmm, yummy.”

“They have the best ones here. Ooh, look cake.” Satoru always loved sweets, you have no clue how he’s so slender when you used to watch him eat cookies and donuts by the dozen. Another waitress brings over a big piece of chocolate cake, decadent and fluffy.

“Okay it does look good.” Satoru picks up a fork now, handing you a little bite, you lean close and take it off the fork, licking your lip and shutting your eyes with a little moan.

“Damn, what do you sound like cumming if you sound like that from biting some cake?”

“Oh god, really Gojo!” You shove at him now, and he’s eyeing your lips hungrily, you nervously lick them again, earning his exhale. “Just because I’m not a goody goody doesn’t mean I’ll put out you know.”

“I didn’t ask that, you’re thinking about it.”

“Sure am not.” You take another sip now.

“Bad breakup, yeah?”

“Yeah it was shit. I kind of… well I kind of have a friend with benefits now, you should know that I guess?”

“Freaky hmm.” You shake your head at him, he just sips his drink, stirring the little cherry in it slowly. “I don’t care about that, I have a few regulars, until I date seriously again I mean.”

“You date seriously now?”

“I had a year-long relationship, it kind of… ended shitty. So I guess I’ve been avoiding commitment.” You tilt your head a bit, studying his pretty face.

“You seem more genuine than before.”

“Teenage Gojo was a little shit for sure.”

“Yep.”

“Hey!” Now he’s laughing, and fuck he’s charming, running his hand through his silky white hair and leaning closer. “I should apologize.”

“Yeah, that was shitty.” The wound has long healed, but remembering what happened hurt, especially the pathetic way you still tried to be with him, even after all of it. “I wasn’t popular like you.”

“No, you weren’t but you were sweet, and funny. And smart.”

“Ah… thanks Gojo.” His hand rests on your thigh over the thin black tights you’re wearing, and you don’t smack him off, but you tense just a bit.

“Can you forgive jock Gojo?” He pouts pretty pink lips.

“I can forgive jock Gojo.” He exhales, eyeing your drink now.

“Want another?”

“Um…” You wonder what’s holding you back, from the guy you’d been literally in love with years back, handsome and funny and much more mature Gojo.

Choso inside of you that’s what.

Choso’s big hands on your hips, the way he kissed you, the things you’d felt from them, since when did kissing make you soaked? But was it just him being so sweet and sexy, giving and talented? Was it because you were so comfortable with him, even showing your body?

Ino just never felt anything more than sweet or nice, but you have a severe lack of experience.

“I’ll take another, thank you.” You say softly, he orders two more, nibbling on the cake, frosting on his perfect pale skin. You thumb it off carefully, and he laps it off your finger then, smirking at your little gasp.

“You’re cute.”

“Cute huh?”

“Cute. Little reactions, so easy to read. You always were, but I guess my idiot ass wasn’t reading then.”

“You were just fucking all the cheerleading team.”

“Of every school.” He winks and your eyes roll back. “Just kidding, only the surrounding schools.”

“Oh gosh.” Satoru takes his cherry then, popping it between his lips, blue eyes filled with mischief as he peers at you. “What?”

“Nothing, just thinking how I didn’t get your cherry.”

“Oh jesus. You talk too much, you know. Thank you.” You say to the waitress as she hands you another glass. She also hands Satoru her number. “Is this everywhere you go?”

“Yeah. Kinda always has been like this. Lemme eat your cherry.”

“Everything you say sounds so pervy.” You hand him your cherry then, he takes it between his teeth, snowy lashes lowering, and you feel your body heat up then.

Satoru’s leaning down just a bit, taking your chin between his thumb and finger then, leaning low. “You’re so pretty tonight.”

“Oh… thank you Gojo.” You catch sight of it then, of Choso Kamo out the window on the bustling street in the evening, and the pretty blond in his arms.

You gulp now, pulling away with a breath. “No kiss huh? Still mad at Jock Gojo are you.”

“Um… no I… I have to go to the ladies room. I’ll be back?” He nods then, poking around on his phone, snapping pics for his Insta, which was of course stupidly popular and had been.

You walk past the window, surely you’re mistaken?

But who else has spiky black fucking pigtails.

He’s grinning too, as she’s leaning up, her arms around his neck, and you feel sick to your fucking stomach when he kisses her. Sure it’s just a kiss, right, and you don’t date him, and you shouldn’t care. That’s the point of it all, to not care, but why does it feel like someone’s punching you in your gut as he cups her face with his fucking hand!?

Fuck it brings tears to your eyes, they pull away and he looks all shy and fucking adorable, you quickly walk to the bathroom before he peers in the window and sees you, running into it and unable to stop your tears. The alcohol from the martinis is hitting just a bit, and you’re already overwhelmed from memories of Gojo, from what Choso’s doing to your mind.

You take several breaths, getting angry now, how can he say things like he did, look at you like he did, and do that!?

Yeah, you’re on a date too, aren’t you?

You’re not with Choso. He can do whatever the fuck he wants, and just a week or so ago, you were only friends. Only ever. You watched him date, healed his heartbreaks, held him when he cried. And so did he, eating ice cream and crying together, falling asleep watching movies. Friends, the best.

You were ruining it, by your emotions, he seemed perfectly able to just do whatever and be unaffected, no this was a you problem. Dickmatized, was it true, was that all this was? Was it just getting off with a dude for the first time, and the care you have confused you?

You’re touching up your makeup, peering at the mirror, struggling to pull yourself together. Why did it hurt so bad… why did him cupping her face make you so sick… you can’t let it happen, let it get to you. This is what you both agreed on, and he clearly took it a lot further than you had planned him to. Maybe you don’t mean anything to Choso at all, maybe he just does this because it’s convenient.

Because he wants to get over Yuki.

Your hands tremble then, you pull out your phone, and message him.

You: Hope your date is going great.

You want to say so much more, but you can’t, it’s not your place. Choso looks at the message, and your heart falters, but he doesn’t respond. You shake your head, closing your eyes again, pulling yourself together as you realize what a fool you have been, fixing up your lip gloss and then heading back to Satoru, who smiles up at you, having finished the cake clearly.

“Sorry sweets, I can get more.”

“I’m not hungry, it’s fine.” You stand there for a moment, Satoru yanks you down on his lap, making you gasp as you land on his leg.

“Maybe I’m still hungry.” You go to scooch back over onto the bench, but then you think about it.

Should you turn this down? Choso literally was kissing in the middle of the streets, and not even someone he knew, maybe he was so hurt he was becoming something he didn’t want to. A hoe era, spurred on all by you, a peek at your phone with no notifications from him.

“Not here, Satoru.”

“Satoru, huh?” You flush at his bright blue gaze, his big hand burning against your thigh again, making your hips shift in your seat.

“You seem different. Like you grew up. A bit.”

“Just a little. And why not here? Wanna go home with me? So slutty.” He whispers.

“Oh never mind. I didn’t say all that. Get me some more cake.”

He grins now, ordering another piece, and you genuinely open up to each other and laughing about school days, Satoru snaps a picture of you for his Insta and tags it hanging with old friends. You laugh a lot, and enjoy his goofy ass attitude, you can’t help it, he’s always been charming and now he’s much less of an ass than he was.

But you peer at your phone now and then, you and Satoru have spent an hour here, now he’s walking you to your car, you’re shivering a bit at the chill in the air, so he’s rubbing your arms, stepping closer. He bends low, those snowy lashes hovering over his cerulean gaze, intoxicating in the chilled night, so chilled you see puffs of his breath like little smoky clouds.

“I had fun, thank you for this.” You say softly, his lips turn up on one corner, fingers brushing across your jaw.

“I should thank you, fuck I was a shit to you. You deserved a lot better than being left on a dance floor.”

“It’s forgiven, you were young…”

“Still. I’d like to do this again?”

You nod shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s leaning down further, lips just a breath away, and you exhale then, visions of Choso swirling in your addled mind, but also Satoru smells good, he feels good against you, his big hands pressing into your waist. You feel yourself trembling in his hold, curiosity and hurt mixing with old feelings.

“I’d like that too.” You brush silky hair back, and he leans forward then, pressing his lips against yours, you feel them warm and plush, your arms lean up as he presses you closer, tongue darting in your mouth, swirling. You gasp and he pushes it further, bringing you against his hard, lithe body.

You feel guilty though, and how!? You aren’t with him, he hasn’t asked you out, he’s with someone… but something feels wrong. Like you’re cheating on him in some way when it’s impossible to, so you shove all of it back and let Satoru Gojo kiss you, and you kiss him back. He’s expert at it, devouring your mouth, a breathy cry from the back of your throat escapes.

“Fuck.” He murmurs, hands slipping down the sides of your breasts, making your nipples perk up, you feel your tummy clenching with desire for him, it’s not that insane need like Choso, but Choso isn’t really yours, and it feels good, his hard thigh between your thighs now, pressing up. “You’re so hot.”

“You could have done this on prom, you ass.” You tease, and he laughs softly, hands grabbing your ass and exhaling.

“This ass… you didn’t have this.”

“Oh that’s why!”

He grins. “Shut up, you’re bratty. Let me…” He is kissing down your throat now, and your head falls back, grinding on his thigh, earning his hiss against your ear, you’re clinging to his expensive dress shirt, getting wet against him. “Mmm I’ve been missing out, haven’t I?”

“Maybe… ngh!” Satoru bites your neck, sucking now, your eyes roll back, forgetting you’re in a fucking parking lot of a fancy bar, forgetting the hurt of your feelings from not just your ex Ino’s rejection, and seemingly Choso’s.

Your hands run down his hard body, feeling his well toned muscles under your touch flex, sliding under his shirt to feel his hot skin. “Come over.”

“Satoru I told you I…”

“I don’t care if you’re fucking someone.” You blink in surprise, he’s cupping your face, watching your face as he presses further. “Lemme get you off.”

“Not… not yet. I feel like I’m a little tipsy and the break up…”

“You’re missing out, you know how long these fingers are?” He wiggles them, making you snort in laughter.

“I’m sure it’s great but I’m not so easy. We’ll see if you’re serious hmm?”

“Then you’re going out with me again.”

“Maybe, if you’re lucky.” Satoru’s brows are raised, his hand slipping down your tummy, slipping up your sweater.

“You are.” He kisses you once more, fuck it feels good, you find yourself losing it in Satoru’s hold, crying out softly when he finds your pussy over your tights, he presses up and you stop him, despite your pussy throbbing. You can’t do it… “Was just gonna rub it, not gonna fuck you in the parking lot. Well…”

“I’m saying good night, Gojo.” You shake your head and pull his hand off, he surprises you by kissing it before kissing your lips once more. You wonder at his motivation, is he really that different? But you kiss his hand too, smiling now as he steps back and takes a breath.

“Good night, pretty. Text me when you’re free again?” You nod, smiling as he throws that peace sign at you, before slumping against your car for a moment, feeling so off, so… odd.

You check your phone, and see Choso’s snap with his meal, after you had texted him, you hate how much something small like that hurts already. You slide into your car and head home, for some reason tears forming in your eyes. Are you really going to be pining away for someone you can’t really have, or don’t have again? Is this just what you constantly do?

You’re sobbing by the time you get home, damn near hiccuping at how upset you are, yanking off your heels and belt as you walk in. You keep checking your phone like an idiot, Choso had never ignored a text, even when he was with Yuki, was he just done with your emotional responses to sex? Should you try to make sure you’re much less involved!?

“I suck at this. I suck at everything.” Your shoulders are shaking as you cry into your hands, which shake violently, until you flop down on the bed.

You can’t do this with Choso, it’s already fucking you up.

You call him then, and no answer, making you scoff, throwing it across the room, continuing to cry. This wasn’t dick like Utahime said, you felt something so intimate while fucking Choso it’s insane, like he just got you, like he could see in your entire fucking soul. What was it?

You take a shower, and eventually check your phone again, Satoru has messaged you, odd that Satoru somehow could write you back, but Choso couldn’t whatsoever. You crack open a beer and down it quickly, aching to get your mind off your best friend, why can’t you just be casual?

Jock Gojo: Need a pic of you. For reasons.

You snort at that, rolling your eyes.

You: You wish.

Jock Gojo: not naked if you don’t want… I mean… I want but…

You say fuck it and snap a pic which he hearts, just you in your pajamas with a little filter because you’ve been crying.

Jock Gojo: Fuck you’re sexy.

You feel yourself heat up at his words, sending another with the strap slid off your shoulder, then Satoru sends his abs which, damn they were sexy, cut and defined. You’re biting your lip, shifting a bit, turning on your tummy now as you stare at the screen and sigh.

You: You’re hot but you know it.

Jock Gojo: It’s still nice to hear ;) Bet you’re wet again.

You: Whatever! Good night, Gojo.

Jock Gojo: Masturbate to me <3

You roll your eyes and laugh, he sure the fuck is hilarious, this was your dream in high school, and he’s not even being a dick, he genuinely seems better. You should be excited. Not crying. You start to nod off when the phone rings, you almost don’t wanna answer it, but you do, taking a breath as you hear his voice.

“I’m so sorry! I thought I responded to your text, then the phone was in my car when you called. Is everything okay!?”

“It went great. Shouldn’t have called.”

Choso pauses then, silence on the phone. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing!” You sit up in the bed, hugging a pillow to you, the emotion back in your eyes now. “It was rude of me.”

“What, no? It’s rude of me that I didn’t remember to hit send. Please, you can always write to me.”

“Yeah… Well good night Cho, I’m tired.”

“Something’s wrong, I’m coming over.”

You scoff then. “Coming to fuck me after your date horned you up?”

“What!? What? How can you say that!” You hear the pain in his voice, and you hate yourself. “We’re talking about this face to face.”

“I can’t face you right now. I can’t.”

“Did he hurt you? Was he mean? Was-”

“He was great and I had fun. Okay? Like you.”

“Like me? How…”

“I saw you kissing her right in front of the bar.” Choso’s quiet then, and you sniffle, wiping your eyes. “I was just something for you getting over Yuki, this whole thing was stupid.”

“You were not just that. Not at all. I kissed her, yeah but that’s it… I’m on the way.”

“I won’t let you in.”

“You’re my best friend, you damn sure will.” He hangs up then, and you glare at the phone, shaking your head at him, before you can think he’s knocking on your door, you answer it with a scowl.

Choso scowls right back, leather jacket on him, his hair in those sexy spiky fucking pigtails, ones you wanna yank him by, to kiss him, to cum all over his face again. It’s all you can think about, him on you, him in you, like some stupid fucking drug that’s ruined you. He’s heaving breaths as you are.

“Let me in?”

“Fine. For a minute.” You shut the door behind him then, and he bends down, pressing your back against your door, barring you with his arms. You feel your pulse quicken as he studies you, far, far too close. “What?”

“Why are you crying?” He cups your face, it’s too sweet, it’s too much. You just shake your head, looking down as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Are you upset I kissed her?”

“No! Why would I be? You’re not mine.” You choke on the fucking words, Choso exhales, leaning closer, head resting on yours.

“Speak your mind. If I hurt you I’m sorry, I promise it was just a kiss, I told you if I did more I’d let you know.”

“Well I kissed Gojo so what do I care?” He pulls back now, glaring at you, violet eyes glinting in your dark living room. “What? Only you can?”

“You kissed Gojo?” You just nod, and his dark brows are low over his eyes, brushing a thumb over your lower lip gently.

“I only kissed him.”

“I didn’t question you, I never would. I know you’d tell me. So you should know that I’d tell you.”

You nod then, feeling so ashamed of your emotions. “I promised no feelings and I suck at it. I got jealous though I shouldn’t.”

“Jealous of what? Look at you.”

“Don’t say that!” You shove at his hard chest, eyes locking with his now. “We’re still friends with benefits then? Nothing serious yet with her?”

You’re so stupid.

But you want him.

Is this the only way you can have him?

“Nothing serious, that was the only kiss there was. I hope you brushed your teeth. I don't wanna kiss Gojo.”

You snort then. “You assume I wanna kiss you. Did you brush your teeth?”

“No.” He laughs then, and you do.

“Then no kisses.”

“I’ll kiss something else.” Choso starts kissing down your throat now, and you exhale at the pleasure, losing yourself in his kisses, until he pauses, touching your neck. “A hickey?”

“I… oh. Did he bite me that hard?” You run fingers down your neck curiously, Choso’s furious now. “What? What do you care?”

Choso’s eyes narrow. “Why do you care enough to call me?”

“Oh just go then.” You shove him once more, but his eyes are all lit up now, hand gripping under your chin, wrapping your throat, thrilling you to no end.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer, okay?” He’s apologizing even as his hand is wrapping your throat, tone sweet, his other hand pressing into your hip.

“I forgive you. Now… go if you… Cho!” Choso’s down on his knees right in front of you, slipping your shorts down, looking up at you under his dark lashes.

“Did he kiss you here?” He asks, and you shake your head, hands pulling on the pigtails intriguing you all day.

“Nowhere close. Just my n-neck - mmm!” Choso’s kissing up your inner thigh, as your cunt is pulsing wetness, fuck he ruins you just breathing against it, throwing a thigh over his shoulder now. “D-did you kiss her… there?”

“No, I’ve wanted to taste my really mean best friend all day.” You go to retort, but now his tongue is slipping up your slit, and you’re dripping, pussy aching for him. Choso moans against your pussy, flicking that tongue ring on your clit, you cry out, head smacking on your door now. “Done being mean to me?”

“If I’m done will you stop?” He laughs softly, grabbing your thighs with those strong hands, those calloused fingers.

“I think I have another way to get you back for your attitude, angel.” You blink curiously, but he’s fucking you with his two fingers, curling them inside and pressing, tongue swirling your clit and making you lose it.

“Cho! F-fuck… please…” You’re grinding on his face now, toes curling at the insane pleasure he brings, as he flicks his tongue with his fingers, over and over, making you tremble, so close so quick.

“So yummy. Feel her, she’s ready.” He’s so fucking sexy, scissoring those fingers up into you, sucking your clit in his mouth and humming.

“Cho! Cho oh my- ah- wait…” Suddenly he’s completely gone, right when you’re about to cum on his face, licking his lower lip and sliding your shorts up. You sputter, when he stands, kissing your forehead gently. “What the… Choso…”

“You should trust me, and be honest with me. If you saw me, you should have told me. If it hurts, you tell me. You’re one of the most important people in this world to me, okay?” Your addled brain barely computes, you just stare up at him, dumb. “I’m mad at him too, I’m mad he bit your neck.”

You blink in confusion. “You… why…”

“It’s too pretty to be marked up, especially by him.”

“Choso…” He brushes your pussy with his fingers, making you jolt, craving the friction, he’s so close to your lips you can taste him.

“Want me inside you?” You nod weakly, as he strokes back your hair. “Then you should be nicer.”

“Are you edging me, Choso Kamo!?”

“Hmm.” He smirks then, kissing your lips, you taste yourself on him, pulling him down to you, but he breaks away, gently holding your face. “Good night.”

“Are you… really now… you’re the one…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re nicer. Mean little angel.” He pecks another kiss on your forehead, leaving then.

Leaving you with an aching pussy and a wrecked mind.

What… the fuck. Do you really know Cho bear that well? Because…

“Fuck.”

taglist: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @makingtimemine @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @lana18918 @bigbird789�� @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @aldebrana @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ivyvenus333 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sparklydeerface @10honeybee01 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lavender-hvze @angelcakkess @bellasworlds-stuff @pauliiis-stuff (tagging the rest in the comments)

I KNOW it's frustrating. They suck right now lol!! Look forward to your comments <3

#choso jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo

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peachiejeongin · 5 hours ago

Text

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Mnho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Ryan ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" Ryan follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

39 notes · View notes

rimqueen · 4 hours ago

Text

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. ��I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch.

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

#curly mouthwashing smut #curly smut #captain curly x reader #captain curly smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #curly x reader #mouthwashing curly x reader

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short-honey-badger · 17 hours ago

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Doll 3

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: You have a nightmare, and Shanks takes you for breakfast

Warnings: retching, torture, and general unpleasantness, panic attack

Doll Masterlist

You wake up late the next morning, heart thumping in your chest from the nightmare that's plagued you since you made your escape from Sabaody. Of your master, previous master, you remind yourself, finding you and dragging you back to the estate. Of the feeling of the cat of nine tails whipping against your back, the sluggish feel of blood leaking down your back to pool under your knees. Lip bitten almost in two with the effort to contain any sound of pain. The punishment would only be worse if they heard you.

You push yourself up from the mattress with a sigh, your back aching with phantom pain as you rub the crust from your eyes. Today would be a new day, and you did your best to push down the feelings that your nightmare had left you with. You needed to be good today. Needed to show your new captain that you weren't useless.

You clean yourself up in the bathroom down the hall after you force yourself to leave the relative safety of your rented room, a room that Shanks had paid for. The thought makes you gnaw on your bottom lip, brow furrowed as you stare into the dirty mirror. Your front is free of blemishes other than that damn brand, and the sight of it has your stomach turning to the point that you have to find the toilet and bend over, reaching and dry heaving on nothing.

You can't stand the sight of the brand, could never get over the sight of it on your skin, how it pulls whenever you move your left arm. You've had it for as long as you can remember, but the pain of it still feels as fresh as the day they pushed the hot iron into your skin.

“Doll, you alright in there?”

You jerk at the sound of Shanks’ voice and quickly righten yourself, sitting up and wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand. Panic that you try and shove down shoots through your veins, and you try to get your breathing under control.

“Fine! I'm fine, Shanks.”

The redhead can hear the shrill note to your voice and frowns, concern overriding any other emotion as he wraps his hand around the door handle. Shanks doesn't want to intrude on your privacy, but you sure as hell don't sound okay.

“Are you sure? Do you need anything? I can get you something from the bar?” He asks and wishes that he had more experience with whatever is going on with you. Shanks wants more than anything to be able to help you, but he can't if you won't let him.

“Water? Please?” You ask just to get him away from the door. You've only known Shanks for a night, not even twenty-four hours. You don't want your captain to see you like this. Not yet.

You hear him sigh on the other side of the door, his voice soft as he assures you that he'd be back shortly with a glass of water. You slump forward once you know he is gone and grab your shirt, quickly buttoning it up so that it covers the mess on your back and the brand on your front. Shanks is true to his word and returns quickly, knocking on the door.

Shanks looks you over when you open the door, taking in your paled face and red rimmed eyes. He wants to ask you what happened and wants you to tell him what he can do to make it better, but knows that you won't after the way you sent him away, not a minute earlier. Instead, he gives you a kind smile, dark eyes crinkling at the side.

“You okay, Doll?”

You swallow at the kindness in his voice, throat feeling parched, and Shanks seems to remember the glass of water he holds in his hand and gives it to you. He watches the woman swallow down half, her hands shaking and making the ice in the cup rattle. He takes it back and holds it while you gather yourself.

“Just had a nightmare is all,” you admit softly, and he watches her lift her right hand, fingers prodding at the brand hidden under your shirt, “They've not stopped since I escaped.”

Shanks hums in sympathy. He doesn't want you to think that he pitied you, but he does want you to know that he's here for whatever you might need, even if he'll never be able to understand what you've gone through.

“You wanna talk about it?” He offers, but she just shakes her head and reaches for the water again. Shanks watches her drain the rest of it, her hands evening out the longer she holds the cup.

“Maybe another time, but not right now,” you murmur and avoid his dark eyes that seem to want to pierce straight into your soul. You clear your throat, needing to forget about the start of this morning. It feels wrong to ask for anything after all that Shanks has done for you already, but the captain had said last night that she didn't need to treat them the way she treated her old masters, so maybe he wouldn't mind.

“Could we get breakfast?”

Shanks lights up like a firework over the sea, dark eyes going bright and lips turning up into a smile, “Course we can, sweetheart. Whatcha feeling up for?”

He is honestly over the moon that you asked him for something as simple as breakfast and confided in him about your nightmare. They might be baby steps, but they were definitely steps in the right direction. Shanks offers her his hand, and his heart skips a beat when you reach out and slide your hand into his. He gives a careful squeeze and begins to lead the way down the hall.

“Whatever sounds good to you. I like fruit if that helps?” She says, and Shanks nods along as you speak. Fruit? He’d get you all the fruit in the Grand Line if that’s what you wanted. The redhead recalls seeing a bakery near the docks, and an idea pops in his head.

“You ever have pancakes, Doll?”

The two of you end up seated inside a tiny, hole in the wall bakery on the edge of the docks. It smells devine inside, and your stomach growls loudly when you watch the bakers in the back roll fluffy dough and pop trays of muffins into the oven. Shanks sits across from you, eyes tracking your face as you take it all in. He’s already put in an order for the both of you.

She seemed to like the sweet tasting coffee that he’d ordered and had blushed when he’d taken a careful sip to make sure it wasn’t too hot for you. Shanks couldn’t help himself, though. He wanted to take care of you in whatever way possible, and if making sure you didn’t burn your tongue was one of them, well, Shanks was a tough guy and could handle it.

The two of you made meaningless small talk while you waited for breakfast, learning about one another and giggling over dumb jokes that Shanks whispered to you over steaming mugs. He felt pride swell in his chest whenever you laughed at some quip or the other, just happy that he could get your mind off of this morning.

He is interrupted when a waitress come by, a flirty smile on her lips as she sets down the plates of pancakes and cocks her hip to the side. Shanks smirks back on instinct, not noticing how you frown at the display and lock your eyes on the fluffy pastries on your plate.

“Anything else I can get for you, Sugar?” The waitress purrs and makes a show of looking the redhead over, “Maybe some dessert for later?”

Shanks goes to flirt right back, an offer of fun on the tip of his tongue when he looks across the table and sees the blank look on your face, your eyes devoid of any of that fire that had been flickering in depths. He freezes and wipes the smirk off his face, instead opting for one of polite disinterest as he gives the waitress his attention.

“Ah, not this time, kid. I’m taken,” Shanks tells her and looks pointedly at the woman who sits across from him. The waitress cuts her eyes at you and surprisingly seems to soften when she catches sight of your slumped shoulders. A kind smile paints her face, and she pushes the container of thick syrup closer to your plate.

“You’ve got yourself a good man, ma’am. You should hold onto him,” the waitress says kindly, and you look up at her with a surprised look, a blush tinging your cheeks as you hunch into yourself in embarrassment. You want to protest that Shanks isn’t yours, but neither of them give you a chance.

“I’m not going anywhere, so she’ll have a hard time even getting rid of me,” Shanks told her and the waitress laughed before she went on her way, a smile on her lips. He focused back on you, and the smile he wore softened into something meant for you, and he reached over to take one of your hands in his own, squeezing it as he peered under his bangs to catch your eyes.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Doll. I just didn't want her to bother us anymore,” he murmured, tone apologetic.

You take a deep breath and meet his gaze, squeezing his hand back before you pull away and look down at your plate. Shanks wasn't yours. You'd just met him, so you shouldn't make assumptions even if the thought of having the redheads loyalty made something inside of you burn hotter than the sun.

“It's fine, Shanks,” You dismiss and then pick up your fork to poke at the fluffy pancakes, then aim a grin at him, “Looks really good. Blueberry pancakes, right?”

Shanks wilts a bit at the clear dismissal. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told the waitress that he was taken. You had stolen his attention with hidden smiles brighter than a sunny day and an attitude sharper than a tack. It wasn't his fault that he fell so quickly for someone as interesting as you. So the captain licks his lips and promises himself that he will show you how much you meant to him, even if it took a lifetime.

“Yup. You said fruit, so I figured you'd enjoy something like this,” Shanks told her and began to cut into his own chocolate chip waffles after drenching them in thick syrup. He watches you tentatively cut a chunk into your pancake, bringing it up to sniff before plopping it in your mouth. You chew, eyes going wide at the flavor, and then you are wolfing it down. Cheeks chipmunked before you wash it down with a sip of coffee.

Shanks smiles and tucks into his own meal, happy that he'd made a good choice for you. Babysteps, he reminds himself as he watches your shoulders relax, eyes regaining that light that he missed. It would all be worth it in the end.

#reader insert #one piece #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #opla shanks #one piece x reader

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bridgyrose · 2 days ago

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Weiss found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror as her heart pounded in her chest. She was supposed to be getting ready for her first day of class, something she had done plenty of times before while living in Atlas. So why was she so nervous today? Was it the fact that she was finally wearing a skirt? Maybe it was that the longer she stared at her reflection the easier it was to find imperfections in her looks like the little facial hair that was missed when shaving or how her makeup didnt look as even in the light.

Her eyes moved from her face to her chest as she tried to adjust the bra she wore under her shirt. This was the first time she’d worn something more than just a sports bra under her clothes and she couldnt seem to get it to sit right. Maybe her chest and shoulders were just slightly too wide for the size she picked or maybe the type of bra she had wasnt quite right. Either way, it made it difficult to focus on being prepared for classes.

Still, it wasnt like there was much she could do about it now. She was already dressed, classes were going to start right after breakfast, and she still had to worry about her skirt. Her hand ran down to make sure she didnt have any unsightly bulges, only for her to stop as she saw the bathroom door swing open with Ruby standing just outside with a syringe, decanter, her clothes, and a towel wrapped around her to be ready for a shower.

Ruby quickly closed the door. “I-I didnt know you were in there!”

“And I had thought I locked it,” Weiss answered back as she cleared her throat. She took a moment to compose herself as a blush started to cross her cheeks. If she was going to be living with three other girls while at Beacon, she was going to have to find a way to keep her own secret from coming out to them. The last thing she wanted was for them to think they were living with a boy. First, she’d have to make sure the door locks to keep anyone from walking in on her. A bathroom schedule could work, though there was no telling how long it’d take Yang and Blake to shower or brush their hair with how long they kept it. Not that she could complain, she had always kept hers long too and she knew it took her nearly an hour for all the upkeep on it-

“Do you know how much longer you’ll be in there?” Ruby asked. “I do still need to shower.”

Weiss quickly brushed her hair to pull back into a ponytail. “I-I just need a few more minutes!”

“Alright,” Ruby answered back.

Weiss took a deep breath and ran her hands down her clothes once more to make sure everything sat right and to give her one last attempt at adjusting her bra before heading to class. Once she was sure everything was in order, she opened the door with a smile. “All yours.”

“Great!”

Weiss huffed a bit with how quickly Ruby seemed to shove her aside to get into the bathroom, and then flinched when she heard the door slam right behind her, hair almost getting caught with it. She walked over to her bed and sat down to make sure she still had her book bag packed for classes, a habit she had formed ever since she realized she wasnt much of a morning person.

“Are we getting breakfast as a team, or just heading down while Ruby finishes getting ready?” Blake asked.

“She wont take too long,” Yang answered. “She’s usually pretty quick, so it wont be too much longer of a wait to head down together.”

“If you’re sure.”

Weiss quietly watched Blake and Yang to try to figure them out more. Yang seemed to be the easiest of the two to understand. Ruby’s sister, protective of those she cared about, and she almost seemed to have an endless supply of energy to her. She was the first to rise along with Ruby to train, didnt seem to tire out no matter what she did, and she only seemed to like to be around gatherings if she was around anyone she knew.

And Blake almost seemed like a mystery to her. The bow she wore never seemed to come off, even while she was sleeping, which as far as Weiss was concerned, had to mean she was hiding something. Though, there wasnt any proof that she was and Blake always stayed up late into the night reading, so it was possible that she took it off right before bed. Beyond that, she seemed to get along with Ruby well since the two had been talking ever since the party after initiation.

Then there was Ruby. For being the youngest of the team, she seemed to know her way with her weapon. Which was better than most from what she saw in the highlight reel during the party. Most of the other students looked as if they had never faced a grimm before. But beyond that, Ruby at least seemed like someone she could get along with even if she was the one who was supposed to lead their team.

However, none of that really eased Weiss’s mind. The thought of them finding out she was trans was still a terrifying one. If her family was any indication on how most people would take it, then she’d rather keep it a secret for as long as she could.

Weiss finally stood up and stretched. “I’m going to make my way to the cafeteria and save a table for the rest of you.”

Yang shook her head. “We really should wait for Ruby. She wont be much longer.”

“It’ll be fine,” Weiss said as she finished putting on a pair of heels and hoisted her book bag over her shoulder. “I wont eat until you’re all down there, all I want to do is make sure we have a table we can sit at. There’ll be nothing worse than trying to find a table when there isnt one.”

“Alright, we’ll be down there shortly.”

Weiss nodded and started to slowly walk through the halls as she tried to keep her balance. It may not have been her greatest idea to wear thinner heels than what she’d practiced with, but it was a bit too late now. She was still waiting for Klein to send the rest of the clothes she’d asked for including the wedges she preferred to walk in. Until then, she had to work with what she had and the shoes she normally wore for her combat gear were certainly not suited for classes.

Once she caught her stride, she started to walk a bit quicker to the cafeteria in hopes to snag a table for the rest of her team. Her speed started to pick up with each step as she used a few glyphs to keep her balance.

And yet, it wasnt enough to keep her from missing a step down the stairs.

Weiss’s heart raced as she felt herself start to fall, losing concentration with her glyphs. Her eyes started to glow on instinct as she put a hand in front of her to create a wall in front of her to catch her fall. At least until she felt someone grab hold of the back of her collar.

“Are you okay?” a girl’s voice asked from behind Weiss.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Weiss answered as she calmed herself enough to let the fire in her eyes die. She used a glyph to help herself get her balance again before turning around to see another student behind her, amber eyes and black hair. “Thank you.”

The girl almost seemed to look Weiss over before nodding and walking down the stairs. “You shouldnt run in heels like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you… uh…” Weiss paused. “What’s your name?”

“Cinder,” Cinder answered. “And something tells me that we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

“What makes you say that?” Weiss asked, though her question fell on deaf ears as Cinder continued without answering. She tried to follow her out, only to lose track of her in a crowd of students. She paused at a window when she saw a blush on her cheeks, almost tracing it with her fingers. She needed to find her again.

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #cinder fall #drabbles #trans!Weiss #trans maiden!Weiss #maiden!weiss #trans maiden!Weiss au

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kamorth · 1 year ago

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Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

#do good recklessly #Because society fucking HATES it #It's all good talking about how the world needs to be fixed #But to change things #You need to do things differently #And people despise change #And counterculture shows them a mirror that tells them they need to change anyway #When you dye and style your hair ''unprofessionally''#When you mend torn clothes with safety pins and patches instead of buying new ones #When you don't wear the make up and clothes from this season's displays during the season they're being displayed #And that's enough to make some bigot scoff at you and treat you as less human than them #You are shoving that mirror in their face #You are asking them what the fuck they think freedom means Earl #And if you can do that safely you should #And if you are as white and straight passing and cis passing as I can be #You are probably WAY more likely to be able to do that safely #So you should #Because there are SO MANY people who can't #ESPECIALLY NOW #YOU ARE NOT CRINGE FOR NOT CONFORMING #Conformity is a tool of those in power #Fight the system by not following stupid rules #And most of them are stupid

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yangzhouman · 2 years ago

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CLOUD STRIFE and the YAOI IDENTITY

[note: this is my slightly-edited submission to yaoi zine vol. 1: what was the yaoi that changed your life? organised by our beloved @tshirt3000. it’s 81 pages of nostalgia, poignancy, and really fucking amazing creativity, all about yaoi. i wrote about FF7, and the zine ranges from arthurian legend to currently-publishing webtoons and all the way back. it’s a real labour of love! and it kicks ass! please check it out here!]

what’s gayer than absorbing the identity of another man? doing it twice. i’m talking about cloud strife from FFVII, a yaoi icon who has carried fujoshi gamers on his shoulders for nearly three decades. i owe everything to him, and i’m sure my highschool friends wish his pointy polygon form hadn’t plagued my mind for all these years. sorry girls.

pretty much everything about cloud is yaoi, from his design to his character to his story. did you know the designers deliberately made him “less masculine” so that he could better rival sephiroth? direct quote. until this week, i didn’t — he was meant to have smooth black hair, but was given his defining blond spikes instead. sephiroth, with his long hair and his long sword, exists in deliberate, calculated comparison. it’s easy pickings for people looking for yaoi in a classic contrasting uke/seme dynamic.

but the previous design of smooth black hair and less ambiguous masculinity, now a contrast to cloud, still exists. it went to zack fair, who is notable as the first man that cloud absorbs. he’s the origin of it all in the truest sense: let’s begin with him.

ZACK FAIR

the most important thing about zack is that he’s dead. it gets weird from here, because every time we see cloud, we see zack — in this sense, he is entirely defined by his connection to cloud, and by how cloud keeps makes space for him even when he really, really shouldn’t.

see, cloud believes he is zack. this is psychological and somatic: for a long time, cloud thinks that he is a soldier working for the megacorporation that runs the planet. but he isn’t. this identity actually belongs to zack fair, who truly was a soldier, and who died protecting cloud from that megacorporation.

zack died for cloud. cloud becomes zack. this confusion of identity is borne both as a trauma defence and a grief response: cloud believes he is zack so thoroughly that he forgets zack exists, thereby removing that horrific memory from his mind while paradoxically ensuring that his friend is not lost forever. zack is safe within cloud. here he cannot be hurt.

and cloud’s absorption of zack is total, taking on his mannerisms, his sword, even his skills and relationships. his style of fighting, his attitude to the world — everything. in doing so, zack fair lives on; it’s not zack who died, not if he is standing right here in a different skin.

i struggle to think of something more yaoi than subsuming another man into your being, other than gay sex. nothing says that zack and cloud don’t have gay sex, but it’s unlikely, as cloud is catatonic for a long time — it’s the reason why zack dies, protecting his vulnerable friend. the lack of physicality between zack and cloud works nicely though. there’s a desperation around cloud’s actions here, an unreasonable response to grief/loss/love that speaks of unfulfillment. zack and cloud’s relationship is all about uncrossable distances, and reaching across anyway. there is little response between the two: they can never reply to each other, only assume permission and act in the way they think the other would want. the other’s existence becomes cerebral, established in thought-space rather than physical-space. and the result is a loneliness so desperate it destroys. zack was as lonely as cloud; zack mythologised cloud too, dreaming of delivering him to safety so intensely that he gave his life to this fantasy.

cloud feels immense shame about his inability to save zack, and later on when he realises what he has done, shame about how he has treated zack’s memory. but i think there’s something here about cloud’s respect and love for someone who took care of him. zack is physically and emotionally stronger, openly affectionate and protective. by taking zack on as a mantle, cloud stays safe. by becoming his own protector, cloud embodies zack more truly than zack himself could manage. he understands what it is that zack truly dreamed of, and gives him another chance to be a hero.

what i’m saying is: cloud did what zack wanted, though maybe in a more extreme form than he had imagined. i don’t even need the authorial stamp of approval, but i have it anyway — in the movie sequel ADVENT CHILDREN, zack appears in ghost form to support a struggling cloud. and his support is simply to ask cloud to repeat the final words that zack ever said to him, knowing that cloud will understand: “you’ll be my living legacy”.

these words are imprinted on cloud’s yaoi identity. zack totally meant it as a wish for cloud to survive, but i love the weight of burden here: it sounds like something an overbearing parent would say. cloud subconsciously shapes himself around it. and i can’t ignore how it calls to trauma theory of living legacies, too, though i’m sure square enix didn’t mean to express the theory so textually. here trauma is not solely marked by scars, but by the emotions and behaviours that a person experiences afterwards, which grow and take life of their own. it’s about carrying your trauma around with you, and having it change you physically. as janina fisher tells us, trauma manifests in a person’s life beyond the event as “fear, shame, anger … startling, impulses to run or hide or fight, even against one’s own body”. zack had carried cloud’s body around with him, and the weight of it encouraged him onward to his death; cloud truly was his living legacy in that sense. but zack positions himself as cloud’s living legacy, which cloud’s body must carry not as a physical weight, but as emotion and behaviour that cloud cannot help but follow through. this kind of intense doubling-back and doubling-down is the kind of stuff that makes fujoshis crazy, by the way.

this fucked me up for years. i have always loved stories where important characters are already dead: it’s a style of writing that really impresses me, and i enjoy what it does to the remaining characters who have to live with that hole, or in cloud’s case, in that hole. the fact that cloud fills his hole with zack, and also himself, is so twisty and fun. forgetting and becoming a dead guy is fucked up — absorbing the man who died for you is fucked up. but i think zack would have been ok with it. and what’s better than two guys aligning in their fucked up views?

this brings us to sephiroth.

SEPHIROTH

if sephiroth had his way, cloud would also be his living legacy. he’s the most famous villain in FFVII, driven crazy by his mommy trauma and god complex, and cloud becomes his enemy because he keeps thwarting his plan to destroy the planet. he’s also the other half of sefikura, one of the most enduring and epic ships in the yaoi world. cloud has earned his place as a yaoi icon, and sephiroth is on the podium with him.

during FFVII, cloud pursues sephiroth. this is more than just plot — square enix built this dynamic into the game itself, and it was a resounding success within the industry and the genre. this pursuit mechanic involves looping back around the world map to find this villain in previously-explored locations. by updating the map with sephiroth’s presence, we get to feel his omni-presence in cloud’s mind. the pressure that sephiroth exerts upon cloud to think of him becomes more discernible, and more complex, in sephiroth’s response to being hunted by the protagonist: which is to remove any thoughts that are not of him. he turns cloud into his puppet — he forces his way into cloud’s mind on a psychic level, and imposes his own will onto him. chasing sephiroth makes cloud vulnerable; but he must keep chasing the bad guy. he must knowingly open himself to sephiroth because that is his role in the game; and we as the gamer behind him are pushing him onwards, making him dance on those strings again and again so that we reach the ending. becoming implicit in the roles of martyr and murderer is a heady rush that speaks to the success of sefikura in FFVII. we yaoify cloud. how fun is that?

here’s a quote from cloud: “i wasn't pursuing sephiroth... i was being summoned by sephiroth”. he’s being literal here. sephiroth is deliberately drawing cloud closer, forcing him to follow and find him, because he wants to, um, ‘form reunion’ with him. this is also literal. sephiroth wants cloud to be with him, but more importantly, he wants cloud to be him — to obey his commands, to align with his views, to be in total sync with what sephiroth thinks and feels. this part of their relationship is all about sephiroth: narcissistic to the bone, sephiroth’s obsession with cloud is rooted in how cloud continually pulls away from his call and rejects him.

cloud is meant to be sephiroth’s vessel, by the way. not immediately obvious, especially with the care that the designers took to make their visual appearances contrast. but it’s a really fun plot twist, and one that puts cloud’s identity crises into sharp focus. sephiroth’s identity has been forced onto cloud through medical trauma, with his dna inserted physically into cloud’s body, which turns his mental and verbal objections into something of a painful joke. he doesn’t want to be sephiroth. sephiroth sucks, and keeps killing his friends. but cloud’s body betrays itself, betrays him and keeps him from feeling secure in his own identity. there’s no part of him that he can cut out to get rid of sephiroth; and even after sephiroth is dead, cloud feels him. sephiroth is still in him. whose body is it, anyway?

i’ve made sefikura sound fucked up, and it is, kinda. but it’s easy to understand the hold that it’s had on fujoshi gamers. cloud doesn’t go quietly. sephiroth’s oppressive manipulation is what ignites cloud’s will to fight back.

sephiroth’s insistence that he is the original, and cloud a copy who must submit, is the kind of crazy that appeals to me more now that i’ve come to terms with my leo sun star sign. i suppose it’s visually similar to how zack and cloud had existed, but in practice it is a more dynamic and charged relationship. like his mother before him, sephiroth is a virus: iterative, defined through the suppression of others and the subsequent displacement with himself. he exists only in this state of violence — is made real through it — and he doesn’t want to live in any other way. as derrida puts it, “as soon as there is the One, there is murder, wounding, traumatism. L’Un se garde de l’autre. The One guards against/keeps some of the Other. It protects itself from the Other… The One makes itself violence.”

sorry for putting french in front of you. this aptly describes and complicates sefikura, because actually, it’s cloud finding himself in that abjection of sephiroth. who is he? not sephiroth’s copy; not sephiroth. he is as much a One as he is an Other, and makes himself more of both as he rejects sephiroth. in that rejection he provokes sephiroth again, who must respond. it’s an equal relationship only through its dynamism, in the constant flux and flow of violence that they put each other through. there’s no real hope of reconciliation between them — they are on guard, always conscious of the power they hold over each other. it’s sustainable only if the two of them live forever, and cloud is the protagonist. eventually sephiroth loses.

sephiroth is measurably more yaoi than zack, by the way. zack has a girlfriend, for all that his character is defined by his homoerotic death scene. sephiroth has an obsession with cloud that follows him into the grave and beyond. in ADVENT CHILDREN, sephiroth somehow manifests into physical fragments in an attempt to resurrect himself — and when he does, he runs to fight cloud. (cloud fights alongside his friends, but always ends his fights with sephiroth alone: their relationship is unique.) it’s here that we get sephiroth’s yaoi line: “i will never be a memory”. once again, it’s the final words that cloud hears before sephiroth dies (again, and hopefully more permanently this time).

i kinda like it more than “you’ll be my living legacy”. i think it’s more comically connected to living trauma theory: yes, sephiroth is in his nightmares, but he does keep physically appearing to haunt him. it ties in well with sephiroth’s narcissism, but also his place in the wider story as a lapsed war hero that cloud had, at one point, idolised. as a young boy, cloud had looked up to sephiroth and tried to emulate him; cloud had joined the army to be like sephiroth. in a way, sephiroth is more of the origin to cloud’s story than zack is. sephiroth’s fall from grace is something a lot of sefikura fans tap into, recognising the toxicity of that connection. all yaoi should have a healthy dose of painful, hilarious irony.

i also like how in plain text it seems… relatively mundane? not normal, and definitely terrifying to a man recovering from his protagonist status. but also a little bit like sephiroth is cloud’s crazy ex who just can’t accept the breakup. that does trump zack’s parenting line for me.

anyway, with sephiroth in place, cloud moves from a fujoshi’s delight to a fujoshi’s icon. it’s in sefikura that we see cloud at his most fierce and dynamic, which is hugely appealing. i think the stakes add rather than detract here, and the pain of finding yourself in/with a man who keeps killing your friends is very thrilling. as true rivals, sephiroth gets to transgress some of the barriers that kept zack from cloud through sheer force of villainy, and the intense mirroring between them is revitalising for cloud. sephiroth gives cloud purpose, defining him as an individual again — a One. that’s yaoi.

CLOUD STRIFE AGAIN

the thing is, i’m not sure cloud wants to be a One. not in the sense that sephiroth means it, anyway. cloud’s identity is a fractured thing, broken up by amnesia and survivor’s guilt and the burden of being a protagonist, but it’s deliberate. it’s a defence mechanism, as fredric jameson puts it, against the eroding currents of life that cloud must continue to run through. a poignant image for a broken midgar, and a textual experience, rather than theoretical, for cloud. yet his healing is not to discard parts that do not resemble cloud-before-the-game, but to try and make amends with what’s left — or rather, what’s there. the final third of the game is cathartic for cloud’s identity, when he reconciles the two truths of being neither zack fair or sephiroth. so, what happened to cloud? is he still there; if so, how does he find that part of himself again? or does he throw it all away and start again? no; cloud refuses to live in rejection any longer. he cannot exist parcelled away in the spaces between people, butting up against their edges. instead he starts to acknowledge and appreciate how they touch him. he is made through the interactions of their identities against, and with, his. cloud has always been there.

in this way, i think he is yaoi. writing from the perspective of his ship halves makes him appear reflective rather than transformative, but in truth he absorbs. he is a space for other characters to go through (i am calling him a hole) and in doing so, those characters are different. it’s in that type of connection that cloud finds his identity, and i find that really beautiful. deleuze and guattari talk about how a fragmented identity shows an unfettered desire that is rooted in the current of life, and who craves life more than someone who keeps being denied it? refusing to cohere to a single, impenetrable ego is a choice, and it’s one that shows a determination to experience the present whilst not letting go of the past. it’s too hard to be done accidentally, and especially to do it twice. cloud’s showing us something here.

he’s my favourite kind of protagonist, really. cloud resists the archetype of a lone(ly) soldier trudging on, because he keeps seeking out connection, be it for love or security or purpose. it is only in experiencing relationships that cloud can begin to make sense of his life. he can’t exist on his own. he needs to know someone, and they need to know him.

and that, to me, is yaoi.

[now read yaoi zine!!!!]

#🐸#FFVII #this is so long and yet there's loads more i wanted to say #i wanted to think about yaoi in an ecological sense: what does it mean for cloud to hold onto other identities (and other men) in midgar #i.e. a world that is being eaten by hypercapitalism #and i wanted to do a lacanian reading of cloud's psychosexual identity. there's nobody who embodies the a #nal stage more than cloud but i really like the concept of the mirror and how it fits into ffvii #basically: i was unhinged by tshirt's proposal and am still shoving things back into the box #if you cut me open like a stick of rock you would just see cloud strife's face #yaoi zine #zakkura #sefikura #cloud strife

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