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tonycries · 2 months ago

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SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones.

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact.

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him.

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him.

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder.

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive.

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-”

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already.

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips.

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue.

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same.

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock.

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth.

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck.

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head.

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck.

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls.

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life.

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill.

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection.

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses.

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid.

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind.

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you.

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping.

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too.

Would you cry out and beg for more?

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you.

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets.

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to.

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot.

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now.

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!!

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle.

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants.

Addictive…you were so addictive.

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy.

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate.

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities.

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva.

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him.

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That’s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take.

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck.

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin.

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt.

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him.

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else.

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point.

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else.

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out.

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to.

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard.

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you.

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.”

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours.

Close.

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close.

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.”

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed.

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel.

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss.

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes.

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning.

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy.

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare.

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices.

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling.

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck.

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips.

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking.

More.

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate.

He’s so sloppy. So loud.

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it.

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door.

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is.

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another, gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie.

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now.

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh.

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer.

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now.

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly.

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene.

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside-

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending.

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit.

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack!

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock.

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk.

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall.

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does.

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie.

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult.

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose.

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence.

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside.

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed.

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n’ I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea. And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now.

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck.

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much.

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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cathnospam · 2 months ago

Text

Adding onto this drabble of how Bakugo likes to stare at you, but with a bit a smutty..

CW: Bakugo is a pervert trynna fight it, Some fluff, Smut implied at end, Reader IS a pervert, Black Reader slightly Implied???

Bakugo has a bad staring problem.

He had a feeling you knew he knew that he would do more than just glance at you which is why you decided to sit next to him up until you all graduated high school and attended college.

Since UA made a new section of the school that is for the college students only the classrooms are different, no more desk but rows of seats, and means sitting even closer. Bakugo didn’t know if he should be pissed off or more excited.

Yes he sits closer, but now his staring would be evident. Turning almost a whole 180 just to get a good look of your side profile. And the thought of you catching him or anything saying about it makes him want to smack the shit out of Deku or Kami.

“Wanna study?”

Your voice was something else. So feminine and soft he practically tries to savor each sweet vowel ….as corny as it sounds….though he has overheard you speak negatively about it a few times. If he had a right mind he’d let you know how much serotonin your voice carries.

“Your grades that bad?”

“No, I aced the last exam with a 98%.”

Bakugo only got 95.

He tsks adjusting himself uncomfortably to get a better look at you. Of course you’re also smart to pair.

The study dates turned into a common practice, but instead of studying it’s be a movie marathon or going to eat some food together at a nearby restaurant.

And his eyes never cracked away from you.

Bakugo would watch you as you spoke, laughed, ate, even stared when you were just doing absolutely nothing, but tapping away on your phone.

He just does not know why he can’t stop, but he doesn’t care and you seem to not care much either.

By the third year before graduation you began to take note of him always looking at you. At some point you wanted to confirm your suspicions so you’d angle yourself a little more his direction to see him from your peripheral vision, and alas you were right. He always looks at you.

He starts from your legs, stops and admires your thighs, to your chest and lands his gaze on your face. You’ve became accustomed to it so much whenever you wear your braids, or locs, or whichever new hairstyle that week parted it’s be on the opposite side so he can still see your face.

It wasn’t weird though, his eyebrows were furrowed, but he looked so cute and relaxed. Plus, it didn’t hurt since..he was your little crush.

It has been 4 months now and Bakugo practically lives in your dorm. His spare clothes are in your drawers, his winter hero costume is beside yours in your closet, he even has some of his hygiene products in your bathroom when he spends the night.

It’s been a routine now; class together, after school lunch together, spar separately or hang out with friends separately but Bakugo comes to your room to take a shower and bring you both dinner.

This time though Bakugo came back from his work study a little later, which you didn’t mind, but you decided to order some dinner, your favorite and his and head to take a quick shower.

Bakugo actually had to catch himself from grinning at your text. He felt more motivated to finish his job quicker today and head back to you.

He missed you without realizing it.

After eating, you finally got up from mindlessly scrolling on tiktok and grabbing the takeout from the front , to take your shower. The hot water feels so nice on your body you forgot all your worries of today and Bakugo was just coming back to the dorms.

He unlocks your door with the spare key you gave him and hears the water running, he sees your phone unlocked in your bed with some video replaying on tiktok and he scoffs. Of course you’re just NOW getting in the shower. He wanted to take one.

Bakugo places his gauntlet and strips his uniform down to just his tank top and boxers on your semi filled hamper and wait. He did not feel like heading to the other side of the building to take a shower and head back. Too tired.

While eating the food you got him he finds the receipt you tossed and crumbled in the trash, and scoffs, “why does she do this..” he mumbled as he pulls out his phone to Apple Pay you back the difference, he doesn’t usually let your pay for anything when you’re with him even if you offer so it was practically second nature to him.

Laying back on your bed with a towel he starts up a show as he waits for you, and while looking at the TV he notices your bathroom door beside it opened.

Without thought he tilts his head almost like a confused dog to get a better view of the noises you’re making inside. Mindless humming, singing, and soft moans whenever you let the hot water touch the sensitive areas of your skin.

You sounded…so attractive.

He wasn’t sure if you knew he was back yet, he made enough noises and comments to himself loud enough, but you didn’t respond back. You didn’t even hear the TV playing. Were you really that careless?

Thank God your door was locked.

He kept quiet for a moment, muting the TV and ate in silence to hear the ambiance of your shower. Bakugo wasn’t really thinking at this point.

“K-Kats ~”

If Bakugo had dog ears one would be up right about now, he gets up and walks over to the doors. No way he heard you moan—-

“Katsuki~”

His name.

He had heard HIS name moan out of YOUR mouth.

It spilled out of your lips like honey, the soft heavy breaths, if he focused his hearing he could have heard your squelches your sex was spewing out from you little fingers.

Bakugo knew. He knew better. He always had pride he wasn’t a pervert like his friends.

Kaminari admitting he steals Jirou’s panties

Kiri sometimes watches Mina get dressed when he’s in her room

Even Sero sending pervy pictures to his long distance girlfriend at random hours of the day

Bakugo was BETTER than them, because he never did anything perverted with you.

But

He’s still a man at the end of the day.

“Katsuki…ah…”He slowly rises from the bed.

And he still has needs.

“Kats….”He peaks his head at the creaked bathroom door.

And he still had a staring problem.

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witchywcmans · 8 months ago

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PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious.

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly.

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.”

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced.

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor. “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment. Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface.

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface.

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit.

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake.

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?”

#my fics #fic: please eat #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: please eat

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy.

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head.

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne.

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation.

how ridiculous is that?

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for.

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes.

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too.

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it.

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you.

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on.

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see.

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party.

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose.

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.”

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin.

satoru gojo belongs on his knees.

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you. mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties.

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress.

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown.

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark.

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand.

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…”

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be.

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin.

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick.

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull.

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did.

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time.

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune.

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess.

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda.

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time.

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.”

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies.

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt.

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.”

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible.

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.”

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé.

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls.

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.”

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.”

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth.

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!”

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru.

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth.

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.”

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!”

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth.

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either. his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again.

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with.

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place.

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic.

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring.

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.”

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.”

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold.

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo.

but the entire time, you never look back.

you don’t even look at gojo — and that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd.

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo thirst #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

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shizunitis · 8 months ago

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[speaking like we’re all at a slumber party together]

Do you think that if Shen Yuan had transmigrated into the protagonist’s role he would have found a way to give the body back to Binghe because he felt it was just too much of a pity to simply do away with the original?

Unbeknownst to him, Binghe’s there. Watching. Growing alongside his possessed body.

Shen Yuan does the Abyss Arc himself. It wouldn’t do to awaken the poor boy’s spirit just to throw him to the wolves! And, okay, he can maybe fix some plot holes, unveil some secrets, deal with rat bastard authors, and take over the demon realm before returning the body. He’s leaving the harem gathering for Binghe, though! And, he stores away every treasure!

He’s not so presumptuous as to steal the joys of demonic lordship from the protagonist. He can do the hard part, and then give Binghe his body back to enjoy the fruits of Shen Yuan’s labour!

If he makes this sacrifice, surely the protagonist would let him live despite his transgressions?

He finds a body for himself, returns the goods, and all concludes peacefully and with as little bloodshed as possible. (It’s still a lot. Alas.)

And then his plan would hit the predictable snag of Luo Binghe misunderstanding the whole thing, leaving him with only the notion that a gentle, pretty, protective and other adjectives god-alien spirit had basically died of rage on his behalf and shouldered all of Binghe’s difficulties in order to spare him countless agonies and troubles.

How does one go about repaying that? Is marriage even enough?! Was this a form of courting?! How is this even supposed to work!

Also Shen Yuan believes putting off wife-gathering for a later date doesn’t affect the harem in any way. When Binghe’s back, he’ll do his protagonist best and get them back. Those who can’t even wait a few years, do they even deserve to have Luo Binghe’s regard?

(Luo Binghe is clawing at the walls with how Shen Yuan misses the implications of that statement. Meng Mo has developed spirit instabilty out of rage. Shang Qinghua is not helping.)

#svsss #svsss au #bingyuan #i think?#ostensibly also #bingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #the meng mo au is giving birth to new possibilities #honestly there are too many #theyre my little ragdolls i can stitch together however i want #seriously who allowed me to touch keyboards #phsphh

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luv4freddie · 1 year ago

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Fools - T.N

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words

"Y/n!!"

After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.

She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."

You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.

"Sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."

You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.

"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."

Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.

The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.

"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.

"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.

"Can we change subjects, please?"

Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.

"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"

The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.

"I- what! Why would you say- no!"

This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."

You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.

"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."

"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.

You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.

You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.

If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.

You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."

You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.

"No biggie, it's forgiven."

She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.

You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.

Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.

"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.

"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.

"No I meant your staring."

You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."

She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.

Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.

You let out a sigh.

"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."

She grins, "you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.

"Do you have a crush on Draco?"

Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.

"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.

"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."

She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?

The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"

You cursed Pansy for being so observant.

"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.

"Don't lie to me y/n."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."

Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.

"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."

You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.

"Huh?"

"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.

Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.

"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."

You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.

"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.

"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"

You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.

Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.

When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.

The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.

"There's our bella addormentata," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)

"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.

"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.

"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.

"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.

Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.

You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.

"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."

The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.

However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.

"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)

You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"

He grins, "that's part of the fun."

"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."

"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.

"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."

"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."

"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.

"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"

Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.

"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"

He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.

You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"

He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.

"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."

You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.

"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.

You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.

Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.

"Give me your hand."

He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.

"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.

He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.

"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."

He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."

You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.

"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.

Out of nowhere he pulls it away.

"Theo?"

"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."

You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"

He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.

"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"

You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."

Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.

"What- what are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.

"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"

You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.

"I like you, amorina." (Little love)

"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"

He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."

You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.

"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."

You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.

"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."

He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.

He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.

"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."

He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.

"No more crying over me okay?"

You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.

#theodore nott #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #slytherin x hufflepuff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n

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thesongoficeandfir3 · 6 months ago

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The wolf, the raven and the arrow

Benjicot ‘Davos’ Blackwood x Fem Stark reader

Au, after the war and the blacks won

Warning: I don’t think so lest you count my bad writing ahahah 😔

You currently stood in the training yard of Riverrun, shooting arrows at the target up ahead. You and your elder brother Cregan, were on your way back to Winterfell from queen Rhaenyra’s coronation. The journey from King’s landing to the North was a extremely long one, so it was decided to stop at the Riverlands for a few days for rest and the opportunity to not have to sleep in a tent another day.

As you continued to shoot the arrows, at the corrnor of your eye you noticed the young formidable lord of Raventree Hall looking at you. He was leaning against the fence of the training ring,snacking on an apple while his men roughhouse around him. When your eyes locked with his dark ones, you rolled your eyes and continued to shoot. From the very first day you stepped foot in Riverrun, Benjicot Blackwood eyes would always be on you.

When you were breaking your fast or having dinner in the great hall with others you would always notice him looking at you, moments as this one when you were in the training yard, he never failed to be at some corner his eyes taking in your figure. If you pass him briefly in the halls, he was always looking at you and would only look away when your figure finally disappeared out of his sight. You two had yet to hold any real conversation as your brother was always accompanying you nearly every where you went. This time however, Cregan was busy in the company of Alysanne, something you will for sure tease him for later, alas leaving you by yourself.

Benjicot knew he’d be a fool to not use this opportunity of you finally being all alone, without your intimidating brother trailing next to you like a guard dog. As you tried to keep your attention on the task at hand, you heard the men suddenly whistle and cheer, though you didn’t turn around you just knew it was directed towards you.

You then heard the sound of a large amount of them walking away from the training yard and one walking towards you, their boots causing a squelching sound in the mud. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Lord Blackwood.” You greeted him formally though there was no warmth and friendliness in your tone not even bothering to look at him instead shooting another arrow.

“Lady Stark” he greets you back in an equally formal tone of voice, but the smirk on his face showed that he had little to no respect for formality. It was simply to mock yours. After the greeting it goes quiet, save for the sound of you readying another arrow to shoot at the target.

He snickers as you miss your shot, the arrow straying a few feet away from the target. He may not have been there for long but judging by the looks of it, you had yet to hit a bullseye.

“You really are a terrible archer, aren’t you?” He says as he takes another bite of his apple before throwing it off to the side.

“Clever of you to say that to someone who still holds the bow and arrow.” you bark back immediately.

This causes the young lord to chuckle again not feeling offended or threatened in the slightest. He still stood behind you, and little to your knowledge his eyes never left your figure and occasionally analyzing it from head to toe. He found your fiery temper amusing and couldn’t help but wonder if he could push you any more.

“I’ve never seen someone shoot this poorly… and that is saying something considering I’ve seen five year olds train with bows.” He replies nothing but pure mockery in his tone.

His words caused your blood to boil, and you quickly shoot another arrow to try and prove him wrong however, this time the arrow doesn’t even make it remotely close to the target but shoots to the forest behind.

He let out a bark of laughter, making no effort to conceal his amusement at your failure. “Are you trying to be a bad shot, or does it come naturally to you?”

You knew deep down this….he wasn’t worth it….you knew proving him wrong was a waste of time yet, your pride got the better of you. Again you took another arrow, changing your stance and ready to shoot. though you already set yourself up for failure as your stance was all wrong but you did not know it.

To be fair on your part, you were still relatively new to archery and your brother was in the process of teaching you, so you had a lot to learn. That being said, it should be another reason as to why you shouldn’t bother to try and prove to the Blackwood lord you’re not good when in fact… it mayhaps have been the truth.

As you were so focused ready to hit the target, you didn't even notice Benjicot had left his previous position, till he was directly behind you. Your breath hitched as you felt his chest pressed on your back. You could feel his heat radiating off of you, providing a comfortable warmth in contrast to the slight cold and wet environment as it had rained a few hours prior.

“What are you-“ you say with a shallow breath .

“Relax, I’m just trying to help,” He whispers, his lips hovering just over your ear. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in response. “First, your hips don’t need to be pushed so forward.” He says as he slowly moved your hips with his hand, guiding your body to the correct position for the shot.

Then he moves up and places his hands over your own as you held the bow. “Second you don’t need to be so tense,” he says as he leans his face even closer to yours. If you had turned your face even in the slightest you were sure your lips would meet his. You do as you’re told and with a shaky breath you relax. “That’s it, just like that. Good girl… now shoot.”

You felt a strange twist at the pit of your stomach at his words, and it took everything inside of you to not react. You finally release, the arrow goes flying and hits the target square in the center, right in the bullseye.

You gasp in shock and a smile spreads across your lips. While your eyes never leave the target, Benjicot’s eyes never left you.

He immediately noticed the soft smile on your face and found himself surprised by it. This was the first time he saw you without a scowl or frown on your face around him. He can't help but feel a bit pleased that he has managed to provoke such a reaction from you. As much as he enjoyed annoying you,he enjoyed making you smile more.

“So you are capable of smiling.” he says whispering in your ear, breaking the moment of bliss between you two.

You then realized that he was still very much hovering over you and his hands found their way to your hips keeping you close to him. You quickly elbowed him in the stomach shoving him away from you,and creating a good distance between you two in the process. Though there was a small part if you that missed the warmth.

He let out a small noise as your elbow connects with his stomach, the blow knocking a bit of the wind out of him, but despite the pain smirks. “And the she wolf is back,” he chuckles extremely amused at how fast your mood changed. “though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I liked your fiery side a bit more than your soft one.” he said as he straightened up himself from the blow.

“You want a woman with fire... go marry a Targaryen.”you say with a scoff as you leaned the bow and arrows against a post near you.

“Tempting as it is to have a dragon for a wife, I think I prefer wolves.” Even though you had assaulted him last time he was near you, he began to take steps towards you.

“Wolves eat ravens.” you said with your arms folded and stared at him as he walked towards you.

“That's what makes it fun…. the danger.” He flashes you a toothy grin, swiping his tongue along his teeth.

He continues to walk towards you, his steps slow and measured like a predator, his eyes never leaving yours.

“By the seven- you're psychotic and relentless.“

He chuckles as you comment on his behavior, not like he hasn’t heard that before. He is now standing right in front of you again, that grin still on his face as his eyes look into yours. He reaches a hand up and brush some of your hair away from your face, his touch gentle.

“And you've not seen anything yet.” He spoke out in a low tone

The way he looks at you and his gentle touch made you feel that same pool of excitement in your stomach as when he was fixing your position. To be honest you had really nothing against him , hell you don’t even know why there was ‘rivalry’ between you two but at the same time you couldn’t give in that easily.

“You don't give up do you?” You say not pulling away

“Never, not when I want something.” He leans his face closer, his lips mere inches away from yours.

“And what is it that you want?” you say relishing in the moment you get to mock him.

He continues to speak in a low, suggestive tone.

“I think you know the answer to that.” He says with a grin his eyes analyzing and drinking in all your features, as this was the first time he got to be so close to you.

And what makes you think I want the same?” You say continuing to tease him. “I'm a lady of one of the seven great kingdoms... the only daughter of the late lord stark, what do you have that other lords don’t?

“Would you like a list?” He quips back, his voice dripping with confidence.

For the first time you laugh from his words. “humor me, Blackwood”

“I’d worship your body every night and make sure to leave you breathless. I’d be loyal to you, and would kill anyone that dare to cross you. I’d give you all my attention,” he then runs his thumb on the bottom of your lip and his voice going lower “I may be a lord but a woman like you deserves to be a Queen, and I’d make you my Queen in all but name.”

You would have caved in right then and there if you hadn’t noticed your brother in the distance walking into the castle bringing you right back to reality. Your eyes flicker right back to Benjicot.

“That’s very tempting lord Blackwood but I’m not so easy to tame with mere words” you say as you leaned up and gave him a quick kiss at the side of his lips before walking to Cregan.

“I’m not ready to stop running Blackwood” you say with a laugh as you walk away.

“And I’m not ready to stop chasing you lady Stark” he replied back, his eyes again never leaving your figure. He didn’t see this as defeat but as courage to work harder.

#hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd fanfic #game of thrones #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #bloody ben #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #stark reader #house of the dragon

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cheriecoke · 15 days ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY — levi ackerman

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. your car breaks down before you can make it home for christmas. it leaves you with no choice but to call your ex-boyfriend.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, sfw, gn!reader, exes, christmas, light angst, second chance romance, soft!levi, modern au — 3.3k words

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. dropping the annual levi christmas fic. happy birthday to my beloved, he is such a special character to me and has gotten me thru some rough times :( forever grateful u exist levi ackerman. this was going to go in a completely different direction in my head but... alas the words lead me and i must follow. hope you enjoy!

Of all the things to happen on Christmas Eve, car trouble ranked among the worst. Which, naturally, meant that’s exactly what happened to you.

Something not too far from a blizzard had come in overnight, coating the roads in a thick, hazardous blanket. It looked beautiful, sure, but you were two hours away from where you needed to be on Christmas, and you figured — how bad could it be?

The answer was bad.

You’d skidded, blown out a tire (they were old, due for a change), and found your hood popped open with an odd smoke, stranded only 30 minutes south of where you’d come from. Your family was expecting you home by the evening, there to see everyone for Christmas Eve dinner.

At this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it for Christmas at all.

After cursing yourself profusely for not just taking an extra day off and leaving yesterday, you started scrolling through your phone, looking for assistance.

The towing company answered the line in a sharp tone, already dismissive of your worries. It was idiots like you that kept them working Christmas Eve, and their annoyance was evident.

“What can I do for you?” a man, testy and older, answered.

You explained the situation, and received a less than understanding response.

“Sorry, miss, but we’ll be two hours out. There’s been a few other incidents, and we’re short-staffed. We can give you another call when we free up.”

“But I need to be somewhere tonight. There must be something you can do?”

“Sorry,” he said again, but it was clear he wasn’t very sorry at all. “If I were you, I’d start making calls… See if there’s anyone brave enough to come pick you up in this weather.”

He hung up on you.

You groaned, throwing your hands up in the air. It was unlikely that anyone would want to be your savior tonight. Your family was still 70 miles away, and everyone else you knew had other plans for Christmas Eve.

But.

You knew this stretch of road well, were more familiar with it than most streets along here. It was a country highway that wrapped around the smaller town before leading you onto the interstate, one direction to your hometown, the other to the city you lived in.

Of course, it was here that your car had decided to break down, just ten minutes away from your ex-boyfriend’s house — a man you knew would be home, and certainly wouldn’t be afraid of the weather.

In fact, he was the only one that wasn’t a tedious drive away, that could save you from the unfortunate situation you’d found yourself in.

You squeezed your eyes tight, trying not to cry.

Calling Levi seemed your only choice — as pathetic of a choice as that was. You weren’t even sure he’d still have your number, or if he’d answer. But, your hands were becoming numb, the temperatures were dropping with the sun, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay out here without getting frostbite.

Still, on the second ring, you faltered, licking your lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea. It’d been three years, after all. For all you knew, he could’ve had a new partner, could’ve been engaged. He could’ve moved across the country without any warning — you had no idea.

Your hand started to fall away from your cheek, phone dropping with it. But the familiar tone stopped you, interrupting the third ring.

“Hello?”

You exhaled, unprepared for the wave of emotions that washed over you from that simple word. Levi sounded exactly like you’d remembered, his voice even, almost monotone, nothing in it betraying his emotions.

Still, it made your stomach twist. You couldn’t help but recall a time when that word had held a hint of affection in it.

“Levi,” you said, pushing away that line of thought to keep your voice steady. “You answered.”

He was, apparently, just as surprised as you were. There was a long pause on the other end, before he resumed talking.

“I almost didn’t,” Levi admitted, releasing a breath of air that had to have come through his nose. “I didn’t want to. But, I couldn’t think of a good reason you’d call me on Christmas Eve unless—”

“I’m so sorry,” you cut him off, apologizing. You pinched the bridge of your nose, shivering in the cold. “I wouldn’t be calling if I weren’t desperate. but my car broke down — I was driving back to my parents’ house, and the tow company can’t come yet…” you rushed through the story, sparing too many details. “But it’s freezing, and you were the closest person I could think to call.”

He went silent once again.

That was when you started to realize how crazy you’d been to call him. The last conversation you’d had was around this time of year, both of you stiffly walking through all the reasons you were worse for each other than you were better.

This was a horrible idea.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, shaking your head. Tears of embarrassment flooded your waterline. You weren’t sure they’d ever stopped. “This was stupid. Fuck. Forget it. I’ll—”

“Where are you?”

“What?”

“Where are you?” Levi repeated, insistent. “I only answered because I figured it was an emergency. Looks like I was right. So where are you?”

Your heart flipped at the notion that, even if it was a small part of him, he still cared.

After fifteen more minutes of shivering in your freezing car, you ended up back at Levi’s house. The same house he’d lived in for ten years, and probably would live in until he died.

Levi wasn’t a homebody — in fact, he liked to spend more time outside of the house than he probably spent in it. He traveled a lot, sometimes for work, sometimes for fun. But it was a home that had belonged to his mother, until she passed away when he was freshly eighteen.

Even if he hated living in this suburban town, you didn’t think he could stomach to part with the home he’d been raised in. One of the only things he had left of his mom.

It was almost heartbreaking, that you knew such intimate details about a person that had faded out of your life.

Levi’s house looked about the same, but Levi… Well, he looked incredible. As far as breakups went, he must have gotten the better end of it.

His black hair was lightly dusted with snow when he helped you out of his car, red cheeks a bright contrast against his pale skin. Time may have dulled your memory of him, but you could have sworn his eyes had gotten even more blue in the time you’d been apart.

God, he was gorgeous. How had you ever been with someone like him?

“Would you like any tea?” Levi asked, taking you to the kitchen. Not like you’d forgotten how to get there. You’d spent enough time in his house to know the layout, right down to the foundation.

“Sure,” you said, still shivering, even with the heat blasting in the house. “Thank you, Levi. Not just for the tea, but for helping me. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

Levi was rummaging through his cabinet, and looked over his shoulder, back at you. Something rest on the edge of his tongue, but he said nothing, busying himself once more.

The kitchen was the same as you’d remembered. None of the furniture had changed, but he’d added new appliances, changed out some of the cookware. Poinsettias were in the middle of the table, the only festive thing in the room.

You stared at them, and frowned, the tension between the two of you palpable. While you’d met each other once again like you’d never been parted, there still an underlying current of mistrust and uncertainty. A feeling that was expected to linger.

The break-up between you hadn’t been nasty, but you hadn’t parted on the best of terms, either. You and Levi had always argued… a lot. Half the time, it didn’t mean anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself from spitting something mean when you got angry.

It was your similarities that drove you apart, not your differences. You were both so neat, you fought over where things were meant to go. You were both independent, you grew frustrated with sharing space and compromises.

You were both stubborn, and never admitted to being wrong, even when it caused a rift between you and split you apart for good.

Of course, the worst issue was your tendency to bottle up your feelings, rather than talk through them. A problem that Levi shared — meaning that every little thing between you was brushed under the rug, only to trip you up later.

Levi brought the steaming mug over, pushing it to you across the table. You took a small sip of it, blinking at him over the edge of ceramic.

“My favorite tea?” you asked, recognizing the taste of it immediately. “You remembered.”

“I wasn’t sure if you still liked it, but I’ve kept it around anyway,” Levi said, and, as if realizing what he’d admitted, continued, “It grew on me. I drink it now.”

You smiled. It was small and sad, mourning all the things you’d lost, but the sentiment warmed you all the same. You remembered Levi loved earl grey in the mornings, and chamomile before bed. In the fall, he preferred rooibos, the color and flavor reminded him of the autumn leaves.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t like any of those things, anymore.

“I’m glad you like it now,” you said, humming. “You never did, before.”

It sounded like a jab, even if you didn’t mean it as one. Levi stiffened, only slightly, before he released the tension and snorted, tightening his grip around the mug.

You glanced at his hands, slender and pale, veins purple under his skin. Hands that had once roamed all over your body, slipped inside you, pulling you apart from the seams.

That wasn’t a path you wanted to go down. You blinked, pushing away that line of thought as your stomach flipped, and prayed he hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Anyway,” Levi coughed, clearing his throat.

You nearly shrunk from embarrassment, certain that he had discerned your thoughts, but Levi wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on the clock across the room, watching the hand rotate around the frame.

“You were visiting your family. How have they been?”

Safe conversation, easy conversation. The kind that you could have had with any stranger, even if Levi knew all your family by name, knew your Christmas traditions. You repeated old history anyway, like you were meeting him for the first time, sharing weekend plans with an acquaintance before going your separate ways.

The two of you chatted for a while, sipping on your teas, all the while, avoiding the topic of his holiday plans — if only to sidestep the discomfort that came with hearing he had none. Not that that was shameful, of course. Plenty of people did nothing for the holidays, didn’t want to.

But, Levi had always come home with you for Christmas, for five years. Everyone loved him. Although you’d been nervous, at first, Levi fit right in, made himself comfortable with those that you cherished. He was polite, even though his sarcasm often bled through. But, that only made him funnier, in the eyes of everyone you held dear. They’d always given him two sets of gifts — for Christmas and his birthday — excited to watch him open them.

Levi had always been so stoic when he responded with a stiff thank you, but you could see how touched he was, how pleased to be integrating himself so easily into your life.

He’d made your holidays better than they’d ever been.

Now, he spent them alone.

You couldn’t help but feel like your breakup had taken something special away from him, something he should’ve gotten to keep, even whilst you were separated. Maybe you could invite him home with you, just so your cousins could play one more round of cards with him and lose.

Melancholia flowered in your chest, and you, then, yearned for those moments, the ones you’d kept so dear.

How had everything gone so wrong?

Your conversation stalled. You looked at each other, unsure what to say next.

Shifting anxiously in your seat, you stood, as if for the first time realizing that you were in Levi Ackerman’s house, and you shouldn’t have been. That you were having cordial conversation with a man you swore to never speak to again, and it was like falling back into a routine, it was normal.

And that was the worst thing about it — you knew why’d you’d broken up, but right now, you could hardly recall a good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said for the millionth time that evening, eyes flashing towards the clock. It had only been thirty minutes, but the snow was getting worse and your tea was cold. “I should call my parents and let them know I won’t be home tonight. Hopefully the roads will be—”

“Wait.” Levi reached out, grabbing your hand before you could stand and make your exit.

Your eyes flashed down to where you touched, at the same time his did, before you uncomfortably broke away. Levi blinked, then chewed the inside of his cheek, his mouth still drawn into that unexpressive, thin line.

“What?” you asked, after too many seconds of silence.

Levi inhaled, then dropped his head, jaw working as he looked away. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, over the past two years.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “About?”

You already knew the answer.

“When we—” He licked his lips, eyes narrowing at the microwave, before they met your own. “Decided to end it.”

Decided to end it. What a harsh way of putting it, but you supposed it was true. A final round in the passionate romance you’d had. A break-up seemed too simple for what you’d been, when it had ripped your heart out of your chest.

“Oh,” you said, swallowing.

“I know you might not want to have this conversation,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I need to say what I should’ve a long time ago. That I’m sorry.” Levi’s eyes were on you then, a more intense shade than you’d ever seen before. You froze, feeling unable to move, locked in the storminess of his gaze. “So many things were my fault. All the times I was dismissive, the times I was angry. All the times I didn’t communicate when I should’ve.” He released a breath, and despite his bravado, you realized he was just as nervous as you were. “I didn’t know how to love you like you wanted, and I’m sorry that I did such a bad job of it.”

You blinked, watching him shift in his chair. “Levi…” you said slowly, softly, the word agonizing as it left his lips.

“I know that doesn’t make it right, but I need you to know. I am sorry. You deserved better.”

That, alone, brought you close to tears, that he seemed to be taking the blame for all the things that went wrong. Putting it on himself, when it was both of you, incapable of working together. “Levi, I’m sorry too,” you blinked back your tears, setting aside your pride. You’d already lost enough dignity, what was a little more? “You loved me just fine. Maybe I just couldn’t appreciate what I had. I never tried hard enough to make it work.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” Levi huffed, “it’s—” But then he stopped, gathering himself, catching the fall, right back into the same old routine. You looked down at your hands, embarrassed. “We weren’t bad for each other. Nothing we ever did was bad for each other.” It sounded like a question, even if it wasn’t.

“It must have been,” you said, in a small voice. “Otherwise…”

Otherwise, you’d still be together.

Levi smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched on the table. “I should’ve called you, when you left. I shouldn’t have let you walk away.”

“But you did.”

“I did,” he breathed. “And I regret it every day of my life.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining at the realization. He still wanted you, maybe even still loved you.

And as much as you cared for him, as much as your heart still bloomed in your chest at the sight of him, you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“Levi—” you began, hoping to dispel the conversation. But he didn’t let it get that far, voice cracking at the start of his sentence.

“I mean it. I think about it all the time. About you. You were my friend as much as you were my partner, and I wanted you forever. I miss you. I—” Levi cut himself off, there, at the growing look of fear on your face, the knowledge that he was going to let something slip he shouldn’t.

It tugged at your heartstrings all the same, and you looked away, wrapping yourself up in your arms.

Silence fell across the room, the only sound the howling wind outside, a flurry of snow crashing against the window. Levi waited, patiently, for you to be the one to break the silence — and you summoned up all your courage, all your honesty, for a response.

“I would be lying, if I said I didn’t think about it too… What it would be like to try again.”

Levi looked up, blue eyes narrow, but sharp with anticipation. “You—”

“I miss you too, Levi.” It felt like carving your heart out of your chest and handing it to him on a platter. “But it couldn’t be like it was before. Where we talked to each other about everything except for what really mattered. We can’t.” you swallowed, shaking your head. “I can’t do that again.”

“I know.” Levi licked his lips. “Is that something… You would want?”

Was it? Was Levi truly what you wanted, or were you not thinking clearly, only remembering the good times amongst all the bad. Were you just yearning for an idealization of love, a feeling that you’d been missing since splitting with Levi? Was it him you really wanted, or just someone to call your own?

But you knew the answer. It was obvious.

“Yes,” you answered, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear it. “I would… I do want that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hesitate to call you tonight.”

Levi didn’t smile, but his eyes brightened, the storminess fading away so they looked like the sky. The cloud of grey above him melted away, and he seemed even younger than he had before, caught in the promises of adoration, akin to a boy in a schoolyard.

“You can spend Christmas with me. Your birthday,” you said, hesitantly, not knowing if you’d even make it home, if you’d be stuck here. If that kind of invitation was not yours to give. “If that’s something you’d want.”

“It is,” Levi answered softly, without questioning it, gripping your hand across the table. “I would’t want to spend it any other way.”

You smiled at each other, then, caught up in the glow of Christmas lights and the snow outside, a shaky vow holding between you. Maybe things wouldn’t change — maybe they would go back to how it’d been before, neither of you ever saying what you really meant. Maybe you’d hurt each other worse than you ever had before.

But you loved him — you loved each other. And that could be enough.

thank you for reading! ❤︎ reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! i might write a pt 2 if there is enough interest, but i wanted to finish this before christmas ◡̈

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yourfatherlucifer · 1 month ago

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| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter One

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x Female!Reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight Parental Abuse, kidnapping, mental breakdown, MDNI

My Thankful Help: @potatomountain @kitten4sannie @rems-writing

WC: 1.7k

AU: Mafia

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AN: This chapter is under 2k because as I said, the first chapter would be short.

Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx

@hyukssunflower @witchbxtch0701 If I cannot tag you, please fix your settings.

Tag list link

“Dad, please, this is all I have left!” Y/N’s dad didn’t care, he snatched the few bills she clenched in her palms, then shoved her to the floor.

“I don’t care. I need it more, you brat.”

Her father left her on the cold hard floor without another thought as he exited her home.

This all started five years ago, when her mother died and her father became a huge gambling addict. Every bit of death insurance money that was left for their daughter was stolen by the father for excessive spending.

Whatever, his ass can forget it.

Y/N had to return to work if she wanted to keep her home, rent and bills were definitely no joke. With a sigh and groan, she grabbed her apron and hat. As much as she hated her customers, she had a good job. It paid well and gave her a nice home: small, but nice. The best part is that it’s away from her fathers run down house.

Oh the family home..it used to be so beautiful. Y/N’s mother always kept it so extravagant and beautiful, her father actually built it for her mother. Alas, once she died, Y/N’s dad let it fall into disrepair. Holes in the floor, broken windows, no working appliances. It truly was just, not hospitable in any way shape or form.

The walk to the car was miserable, with her pockets robbed of the last cash she had, her bank account stripped clean of its currency. Y/N hated her father in these final minutes to her car, “Piece of shit, hate his ass.”

Her car struggled to start, pissing her off even more. Her hands smacked against the steering wheel and she let out an agonizing scream. Tears streamed down her face that signified her further frustration. Why? Why not was her life like this? Y/N stepped out of her car with a slam of the door. Bus transposition it is. She could only count on the money she made tonight to make it back home. Her bus card only had enough for one ride.

Y/N grabbed her coat before heading back outside to the bus station, it better not be packed. Her day was already shitty and she didn’t need to be jostled around by people on the way to work.

The moment she stepped onto the bus and scanned her card, only then could she breathe a sigh of relief. There was no one on the bus which gave her momentary tranquility. A peaceful silence if you must.

After the jostling bus ride and arriving to work, Y/N prepared for a long day ahead of her. Hopefully having no shitty customers and ending the day with a good pay.

She needs it.

About six hours later, she was clocked out of work with some cash in her pocket, she had made about one hundred and twenty four dollars. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her home and maybe something ordered to eat. Tomorrow's payment would have to go to rent no matter what. She absolutely cannot afford to be homeless.

It had turned dark outside on the way home which she didn’t mind but alas, men. She never had to worry about that but she still worried regardless.

With her home in sight, she let out another sigh of relief and stepped inside. Why was it so dark? She knows she left the lights on. She was sure she left them on. Y/N was about to bolt when hands grabbed her and the lights turned on.

Three men resided in her home entrance and she panicked, “Who the hell are you people and why are you in my home?” She tried her hardest to break away from the man’s hold, she couldn’t see what they looked like and that scared her.

A short one with orange hair pushed himself off the couch with a frown, “You’re not Mark..” His face grew cold, “Might I ask who you are instead?”

Y/N could only scowl before giving in, “I’m his daughter. What do you want with my father?”

“Well, you see, he owes us a hefty bit of money. He listed this place as his home but he’s not here. Do you know where he is?” He came face to face with the girl as he scanned her body up and down. Quite the specimen indeed, he thought.

Y/N shook her head, “Why the hell would I know where that deadbeat is? He’s nothing but trouble and continues to steal my money.”

This made the man laugh, the others stiffening.

“Oh, yeah, sounds just like him.” He thought for a moment before nodding to himself, “Well, guess we’re gonna have to take you instead! Maybe we can lure him out with you.”

Before she could protest and scream for help, something was bashed against her head and she fell to the floor in a blackout.

Time flew by quickly.

The moment she woke up, she realized she was in a cell, her body wrapped in a tight rope and her legs barred together tightly.

Y/N began to cry, of course her father would get her in this situation. What a dickweed.

A light quickly flashed into the dark room, someone stepped in.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The voice was monotone, “Captain wants to see you.” The sounds of keys jingling rattled her ears, swearing she had a concussion.

She was quickly yanked up and taken outside of the cell, “Do not attempt to flee, I will just shove you back in there with nothing to eat.”

Y/N gave in and let him take her upstairs. She was astonished by his beauty once they reached the light. No, no, do not think that way, she thought to herself. She was kidnapped.

She was taken to a room that was secluded from the rest, chandeliers lining the hallway as she walked, well, was forced down. Still, a beautiful place that astonished her.

Once she was shoved into the room and the door slammed behind her, only then could she look up from where she fell.

The other man stood up from his seat and helped her stand up, “I told you to be gentle, Jongho. Follow my orders next time or you know damn well what happens.”

“Yes, Hongjoong, sir, I’m sorry.” The voice spoke from behind the girl.

This guy was the boss?

“I’m Hongjoong, I’m the leader of ateez and you’re in our home. You can thank your father for that.” Hongjoong gently brought Y/N to a seat and sat her down, sending shivers down her spine.

“What do I have to do with my father? He’s not going to rescue me. He only cares about his money.” He didn’t like those words but quickly gathered his cool.

“No matter, fathers always come back if they want to escape our wrath.” Hongjoong cleared his throat before he stood up once more, “You’ll be staying with us until he makes an appearance or pays us back.”

She knew neither was going to happen. She’d be stuck here forever until the day she died.

Tears lined her eyes as she tried to fight them back, “Then you should just kill me.”

Hongjoong laughed in such a maniacal way that it scared Y/N, “I won’t be doing that either, you’re too pretty to kill. I like you.” He wasn’t sending any red flags but still, he scared Y/N.

“Fine.”

“Good girl. Jongho, take her to the room I had prepared and have the maids clean her up and feed her.” With a wave of his hand, Y/N was back to being yanked around, “Be gentle, dammit!” His fist smacked against the desk and Jongho was frightened once more, being more careful than he had before.

When the two of them were out of sight, Jongho was harsh once again, “I don’t like you. I don’t see why Captain has such an interest in you, I would’ve just killed you if I was in his position.”

Y/N couldn’t say anything, she was too scared, too afraid to die in all honesty. She could only wonder what would happen to her home, her job, everything she had. Would she just be reported as missing? What would happen? Would anyone even care?

“You’ll be staying in here.” She was shoved into a room once again but maids rushed to her this time, helping her to the bed, almost as if they were also afraid of Hongjoong.

She didn’t blame them.

Y/N didn’t even fight back, she let them undress her, too hollow of shell at the moment. They led her to a prepared bath, it was..big. Too big.

They helped her inside and began washing her body before she shouted, “I can do it myself, thank you.” The maids didn’t scamper off unfortunately.

“We’re so sorry, but Mr Kim wants us doing this. We have to.” They spoke with such a frightening tone, almost as if they were gonna get their heads chopped off on a stand.

They scrubbed her body with such ease and care, not wanting to hurt the girl. Too scared to do so. Then again, they haven’t had another girl in the house in so long. It was nice.

Once they were done, they had her step out, drying and dressing her in a gown. Something she normally would never wear, alas she has no choice unfortunately. If this is what the man wanted her to wear then so be it.

The several maids took their leave for a moment and Y/N took that as her chance to escape. She bolted out of the bathroom, out of the room, then into the hallway. Her heavy breaths carried her in a panic, but what she didn’t expect was to run in a hard chest.

Y/N screamed in defeat as they grabbed her tight. She recognized the hold as the person who captured her home.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” The voice snickered in such a mimicking tone, “Mm, captain is gonna love to hear about this.”

Y/N stared up into his eyes, yet another beautiful man and this one was definitely tall.

“You do look delicious.” However, he shrugged and dragged her back into the room, “I’m Mingi, though, next time you try to escape, I won’t be so lenient.” The door was slammed as Mingi left her in the cold and dark room once more.

Y/N could only cry as she came to the conclusion she was never leaving this place.

Ever.

#ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #ateez imagines #x reader #selfish love ateez #ateez ot8 smut #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction

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madschiavelique · 26 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 7 - Five Of Wands

summary : you've been avoiding viktor, but as your next homework session comes around, he cannot help but be curious. oh and more tyler

content warnings : crude language (not much okay), reader is having thoughtsss

word count : 5,6k

author's note : FIRST OF ALL i was sick and on my periods writing this okay so this is much more of a transitionary chapter than anything for the shitstorm to come, SECOND OF ALL i KNOW it's another 5 of wands chapter i'm sorry i forgot that i had already used this card before THUS i will probably change the card in chapter 4 because i couldn't see any other card working for this one. but i still hope you all will like it <3 (i don't know how many times i wrote "sighed" in this chapter so BEAR WITH ME)

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch

Friday arrived for another study session between you and Viktor. The week had flown by, with one particularity: your stubborn avoidance of Viktor, and his stubborn search for you.

During classes, you always managed to find a seat as far away from his as possible. You avoided him in the corridors, ignored him when you crossed his path, and when you were in the library and you noticed him, you packed up your things as quickly as possible to leave.

Since the power cut, you'd been even more keen to avoid Viktor. Although you'd done it before, you'd simply decided you didn't want to interact with him. The last few weeks had been far too full of his presence, and you needed to get away from him both physically and mentally.

The trip to the museum, the lunch with him and Jayce, the hour of detention... Your days were far more filled with him than you would have preferred.

It had been a sudden, almost instinctive choice to get as far away from him as possible.

There was something in the air of the evening of the blackout, and even today, a kind of disturbing truth was taking up more and more space in your mind: Viktor wanted to be your friend.

In your eyes, there was always a huge worry about making friends. Your circle was small, and most of your friendships were involuntary, and you were fine with it. You didn't need many friends, you simply kept the ones you trusted. But were you ready to place your trust in Viktor ?

Alas, Friday was here, and Viktor was inevitable.

You had arrived a little early at the library, dropping off your things and anticipating by picking up the tomes you would need during this session. The library was already busier than it had been the previous week, with your class mimicking you and Viktor as they set to work on their history topic to avoid working on it at the last minute.

You despised the very idea of doing this assignment, as it brought you too close to your years living in Zaun, to more nightmares every night to more Viktor. You wanted to get rid of this homework, and you knew full well that to do that you'd have to actually deal with it.

But while he was away, you took the opportunity to take out a sheet of paper and dipped the tip of your quill in one of the pretty inks Eris had given you. You wanted to write to her. You hadn't received any correspondence from her for some time now, and you suspected that she too had other things to worry that were more important than taking the time to sit down and write a letter.

Dear Eris, you began.

The weeks are endless here, and I almost miss the times when the only thing we had to do all day was figure out what to do to avoid dying of boredom till night came. I've welcomed my new flatmate, Sky Young. She's nice, I could have had worse, I doubt I could have had better. Speaking of better.

You raised your feather above the paper for a moment, hesitating over the next part of your sentence. Viktor would be inevitable in this very letter, and the idea frustrated you. No matter what happened, his name was on your mind, always at the corner of your lips, ready to rub against your teeth and sound out like a finger pressing on a trigger before shooting.

Were you going to tell her about your concerns? Were you going to feign disinterest, pretend it was just some guy Jayce had introduced you to?

I'm getting a bit more used to tarot. You write as your sign of progress. This morning I drew the five of wands. From what I gather though, it doesn't look very positive. I should expect it, five guys hitting each other with sticks seems an unlikely interpretation of a general hug.

According to the little booklet, the five of sticks represented: Incendiary events. Protests. Angry people. Drama. Exciting conflicts.

You'd raised your eyebrows as your eyes roamed the rest of the descriptions: New ideas are born of passionate debate. Energy is scattered but if forces work together, powerful results occur. There's a need for unity. You're bothered by people who don't act as you'd hoped. Free yourself by surrendering to the present moment.

Well, that looks promising, you thought. The card was obviously pushing you towards Viktor, and that was bothering you.

You were clinging to what you had, to the past, to the only thing you knew: survival. Viktor was turning your finely constructed ecosystem upside down, as if he were treading on a sandcastle you'd spent hours building on a windy beach.

But something inside you was beginning to creep in, an idea that seemed dangerous, and which a few weeks ago would have seemed quite simply impossible to think of.

What if you tried?

What if you tried not to be so uptight about working with him? What if, for once, you accepted the possibility that this wasn't a competition for your life?

The idea was bitter, weighing you down with anxiety. You went back to writing your letter.

I think I know what the card is leading me to, you confessed, but it is deeply unpleasant. What more can I say... I don't think this letter is going to be very long. I don't have much to tell you, and if I do, I'd rather say it to your face than on a sheet of the Glorious Academy of Piltover. You added useless curls in your writing for the title of the Academy to emphasize the ridicule of its prestigious status. You knew Eris would laugh. Did you get any new exotic payments? Here I'm drowning in copies and bolts, but your inks and herbs keep me company.

You smile for a moment, but the thought of mentioning Viktor keeps running through your mind. You looked around for a moment, as if he would miraculously appear and snatch the letter out of your hand to read it. But nothing, just the serene calm of the library, only the sound of flipped pages as students tried finding some information were keeping you compagny.

You were right about the Emperor. Of course you were. You confessed. A new pupil has arrived and, to top it all, he's beaten me in the league table. I suppose you can imagine how I felt about the situation. Every day is a tooth-and-nail battle with him. To crown it all, we've both been assigned to a collaborative project. Isn't that great? Anyway. I miss you a lot. I can't wait to hear from you. Say hi to Ekko for me.

Ekko was a childhood friend who you spent a lot of time with. It was undoubtedly through his demonstrations of repairs and your afternoons spent working on tinkering projects that your interest in science and engineering was born.

You dipped your quill in your inkwell one last time.

P.S: The name of the Emperor is-

"How long have you been here?"

You almost spilled the inkwell on the table as your eyes rose to Viktor, standing in front of you with his satchel slung over one shoulder.

You sighed. He could at least have made his presence known by clearing his throat, not by standing still and watching you like a cat under his amber eyes. You took your letter, writing his cursed name, followed by yours before blowing on the paper to hasten the drying of the ink.

"Long enough for either of us to fall asleep in Devid's classes," you huffed as you finally folded the sheet in half and tucked it into your notebook to send it later.

He wore a small smirk, gracefully relieving himself of his satchel by pulling it off his shoulder and letting it fall gently to the floor. He sat down opposite you, taking out his things.

"Was Demacian never one of your fortes for you to sleep during his classes?" he asked about Devid, your language teacher. "I thought you'd understand with your wide panel of knowledge."

"I do, understand." You corrected him as you picked up a tome to begin your work session. "I'm fluent, I don't need more of what's being said in these classes."

"Why ?" he asked, placing his inkwell and notebook on the table. "Ever travelled there ?"

"I never travelled outside of here and Zaun," you informed him.

He sighed, looking down at his notes. "Then you don't speak Demacian."

You frowned, raising your head. He met your gaze, waiting for your next remark.

"Why ?" you questioned. "Has his royal highness, all full of Runeterrian knowledge, been on a sweet trip to the Great City?"

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes drifting over the small pile of tome to grab one.

"Any idiot knows that learning a language in classes and putting it to practice in the actual region where said language is spoken is a completely different thing."

You remained silent, trying to contain and prevent yourself from giving him the pleasure of answering. You went back to your notes, pressing the binding of your notebook to the table as you jotted down a few more bits of information you managed to find in the new tome you'd selected.

A full minute passed, after which Viktor couldn't help breaking the silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

You sighed, was he a puppy in need of constant attention?

"I'm not ignoring you." You confirmed, not looking up from your notes.

"Fine." He said, searching for a way to continue the conversation, to find the keyword to unlock you. "Why are you avoiding me?"

This time he'd hit the nail on the head. Obviously he hadn't been blind to your dodges, but how could he? He was observant, always making the perfect deductions, and was smart enough to get on your nerves.

"Can we focus and work?" you tried to extricate yourself from the situation.

He sank back in his chair, staring at you for a moment. "Not until you answer my questions."

This time you won his gaze. "Too bad there's no candle for you to bargain information with."

"I can find other ways," he remarked, "Miss."

You tensed at the nickname, your lips pressing together as you leaned on the desk, resting your elbows on it.

"Oh yeah?" you replied almost amused, "I hope these ways will be as promising as you and Jayce's attempt at cooking on a heater."

He smiled, approaching you in turn. "You seem to have forgotten that I seem to know more about you than you know about me."

"And then I thought I was supposed to be the obsessed one," you brows knit as a curious little smile tried to stretch your lips. "You're not stalking me, are you ?"

Your eyes crinkled, scanning his continuously. The days were receding further and further into the night, and the sky outside was gradually turning from cyan to indigo. Under the subdued lights of the library, Viktor's eyes stood out, ever more piercingly under his long brown lashes.

"From what I have heard," he continued as you both leant on your elbows against the table as if playing chess, "Madam Selene is truly open when it comes to questions asked by her students."

He had just put your king in danger, your lips parting in surprise for a moment before closing again, jaw clenched.

"Surely she won't mind exchanging on the pride that her legal daughter is to her?"

You inhaled heavily, chewing your cheek as his insufferable sneer spread to the corners of his lips again, raising his mole slightly.

You picked up your quill again, avoiding his gaze and letting yours return to your notebook. You dipped it in with a half-open, hesitant mouth as you considered what you were going to say, both to him and on paper.

"I'm avoiding you because I can't get to be friends with my only rival."

He seemed amused by your sentence, as if you were just a child trying to impress an adult by saying something serious and threatening with the latest big word you had learned. He rested his chin on his palm, watching you write, and for an instant you thought of the paper he'd never passed you back during detention. What was he about to say ?

"Isn't there an old saying about being close to your opponents ?"

"Isn't there this old thing called ‘free will’ that allows me to do whatever I want ?"

He shrugged. "Your free will hasn't decided to make you leave this room so far."

You regained his eyes this time, the latter looking through you, trying to peek through the cracks in your facade for a chance to see the lights that resided there.

"Are you challenging my free will? Because I can give it some physical attributes in the scientifically accurate name of 'clenched fists'."

"I'll pass." He sneered. "I'm sure Tyler has had enough lessons on this concept."

Silence fell again, you scanning the lines of another novel where too little information about Zaun was catalogued, while Viktor had not touched his pen. You could feel him in your peripheral vision, watching you, following you relentlessly.

"Am I truly your rival?" He finally asked.

"What else would you be?"

Viktor pouted, straightening slightly. "Being your rival implies having the same goal and fighting for it. I am uncertain if that definition applies to us in this case."

Admittedly, he didn't seem to have the same devotion to his academic results as you did, which frustrated you deeply. But what about the second option he cited?

"In the Academy, we all have the same goal." You replied, watching him for a moment before returning to your notes.

There was another pause on the table, and you thought that perhaps this time he would start working. But he didn't.

"I want a truce."

You looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"...Okay," you finally say, picking up another book, "good for you."

"I mean it, miss." He insisted. "I think you've had it wrong on me-" But you cut him off.

“What are you implying ?” You asked, annoyed at beating around the bush when you seemed to be the only one working right now.

"I'm not implying," Viktor nuanced, "I am saying."

"Saying ?" you shook your head, waiting for the next part.

"Yes. You know, that thing that one can do with the possession of a mouth and vocal cords ? You've become an expert at it just through this conversation,” he remarked as he straightened up and grabbed his pencil, twirling it between his fingers, "as it is the most we have spoken together in a week."

"Well then, conversation doesn't seem to be such a dying art anymore now does it ?" you remarked.

Viktor smiled. "You seem to like quoting me."

You stared at him, raising your eyebrows and sighing. "I'm going to use unparalleled verbal condescension: shush." Your eyes returned to the tome you were working on. "This is a library, not a café."

"You've never spat in mine, by the way, reassure me?"

"After wasting my spit talking to you, I doubt I'd waste any more in your coffee."

He didn't say a word, but you knew he was smiling. Facing you, painfully fiddling with his pen as if this whole thing was some meagre task he could afford to procrastinate on.

You hated this attitude, the simple fact that he didn't seem to work to achieve his goals, that it was innate when you had struggled to rise so high for so long.

"I mean it," he said, straightening up, putting aside his teasing tone for a moment, "for the truce."

You looked up at him, his expression unfamiliar to you. There was something gentle in his piercing gaze, as if he saw something in you that was worth seeing. You sighed, thinking for a moment.

Would this childish quarrel last until the end of the year? Would you still consider him an enemy when you could have made a new friend? Friendships didn't come your way every day, and you were well aware of that. But were you ready to put aside your stubbornness after the various humiliations he had put you through?

“What would a truce even mean?” you finally asked, somehow intent on hearing more.

His lips stretched slightly as his eyes widened. He shrugged.

“I don't know,” he admitted, ”I never thought I'd go this far with you, on this topic.”

Your shoulders slumped.

“Then think of something to say next time after we finish working on this.” You returned to your page, rereading your notes. “I'll take the subjects of Boundary Markets, Cultivairs, and Hope House Orphanage. One location for each level. You should pick three too.”

“Hope House Orphanage?” He repeated, mind finally concentrating on the exposé. “That's the only good thing that can be talked about in such a level.”

You turned a few pages of your notes, running through the lines of your research.

“There's always Old Hungry,” you remarked, voice lower.

The Old Hungry was a gigantic mechanized clock tower that grew from the very depth of Zaun and built itself up till levels that could reach some of Piltover's buildings. It was too imposing to avoid, and too full of history to be left aside in the presentation.

“Old Hungry ? This old scrap doesn't even give time anymo-”

“It's the Heart of Zaun.” You cut. “It's unavoidable to talk about it anyway.”

“Why don't you take it if you're so adamant about it being on our work?”

You remembered its size, the dark wingspan and the wind blowing through the dusty gears of the Old Hungry.

“I'd rather you be the one to take it.” you confirmed.

“Why ?”

“Because. Don't you want to take it ?”

“Do you want to get rid of it ?”

You exchanged a look with him, urging him not to be picky.

“Why are you being so mysterious about all of this?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“You seem to have forgotten that you seem to know more about me than I know about you.” you repeated, annoyed.

“Shall I ask Selene?” he said ironically.

“I fear asking her this would be a limit placed both in her knowledge about this as well as your questions for her.”

He gazed at you for a moment, clearly frustrated by the secrets, the things left unsaid. You stood up, returning the tomes you'd already read to their shelves. Viktor stood up, following you.

“Acting tough will not make it hurt any less.” He said as you climbed the steps of the ladder and he reached its base. “You know this, yes?”

You suppressed a sigh as you placed one of the tomes on the shelf, arranging it perfectly in line.

“I don't need any of your life lessons,” you remarked, placing the extra tomes. “Can you move the ladder to the left?”

“You know the magic word,” he almost crooned.

You scoffed, not intending to give it to him so easily. You leaned to the side, watching, tiptoeing to reach one of the too few tomes on Zaun in the entire library.

Viktor seemed amazed at how stubborn you could prove to be, especially about him.

“Don't tell me your leitmotif resides in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?” he questioned as you leaned dangerously toward the books.

“My leitmotif,” you pointed out as you almost reached the binding of the tome you were after, “resides in what doesn't kill you disappoints me-”

You'd reached the book, but your sentence was cut off at the end by your sharp gasp of breath. You'd just lost your balance, your feet slipping off the ladder step as you felt the air rush beneath you and expected to slam heavily into the ground.

The sound of something falling to the floor echoed, the sensation of hands on your back and waist catching you off the ground. Your heart pounding with the shock of sudden fear, you realized what had just happened in the blink of an eye: Viktor had caught you in your fall.

You could feel his thin fingers, warm and tentative, resting on the vest of your uniform around your waist. He held you there, firmly, and you felt your back brush against his chest, his breath landing on the nape of your neck and raising the hairs on it.

You released yourself from his grip and turned to face him, suddenly backing away, heart still pounding, but unable to differentiate whether this was due to the suddenness of the fall, or something else.

He seemed just as surprised as you were, lips parted. He didn't seem to be about to make a condescending remark, a joke about your lack of balance that could be matched by his, nothing.

You leaned back against the shelf, trying to calm yourself as your muscles relaxed from the apprehension of your fall.

There was a moment of quiet, a moment when, for once, neither of you knew what to say to the other. Your eyes fell to the ground, where Viktor's cane had fallen. You swallowed on a dry throat, inhaling to try and grain back your thoughts.

You knelt down to pick it up, straightening up to hand it back to him. He studied you for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours. He brought his hand tentatively up to the handle of his cane, stretched out towards him.

“Did you mean it?” you asked in a low voice as his hand reached the pommel, his thin, long fingers a minute ago resting on your waist wrapping elegantly and slowly around his cane.

“The truce?” he questioned, his voice almost reaching the whisper, as if he feared any higher volume would burst the delicacy of this bubble you were both in.

You let go of the cane, leaning back against the bookcase again, like a prop, like your crutch.

“The other night,” you began, eyes lowered to your feet on the floor, ”you said that it seemed impossible to me that you wanted to learn more about me, out of genuine curiosity. And now, you said you wanted a truce.” You raised your head, straightening to look at him. “Did you mean it, all of this?”

You felt very small, as if you were walking and, in the middle of the nettles, had found a patch of grass where you could put your feet without stinging yourself.

He seemed touched, but this emotion seemed to give way to confusion.

“Why wouldn't I mean it ?

Why would you mean it? you wondered. You'd had enough examples of how trust was doomed to fail you. You pulled yourself upright, drawing your armour back over you, closing your heart before it went beyond the confines of your chest.

“Oh sorry.” you resumed sarcastically. “I forgot how through your many gallantries in our discussions you have evidently shown to be the most agreeable young man in the world.”

He smiled, his cheerful attitude back in place in the blink of an eye. “I cannot deny that exchanging with someone like you bring out the more playful part of me.”

“Someone like me?” you stressed, almost offended.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “Your morals are like a legend - rumoured to exist, but no proof to back it up.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you started walking back to your table. “My expectations for you were low when asking this, but somehow you still failed to meet them...”

But your sentence had died on its end, as not far from your table, an unfortunately familiar, tall figure with blond curls stood.

Fuck. Tyler.

Seeing you reappear from between the shelves, he noticed you both, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he strode towards you.

“Ah,” he smiled as he approached you, ”my tormentors.”

You sighed, standing by your table as he reached the height of your chair. “You again.”

“What?” He chuckled, feigning offense as he rested his hand on his chest. “Aren't you pleased to see me?” He arched an eyebrow. “I'm sure you've got another one of these filthy Zaunite, barbaric lessons to give me.”

“You wish you were worth the effort.” You huffed, moving closer to your chair, but he came between you and it.

You glared at him, who seemed satisfied with your reaction. He turned to Viktor.

“Your dog's got quite the bite, Moravec.” His eyes settled on you again, watching you up and down until they returned to yours. “Where did you get one of those?”

You breathed heavily, the annoyance of his remarks demeaning you to a supposedly docile and pliable being making your blood boil.

“Turns out she has a mouth and proper aligned thoughts that you could not fathom reaching, Tyler.” Pointed Viktor, coming to sit in his respective place.

The blond watched you, not letting go of your eyes for a moment as he took a step back and took his place in your chair. “How noisy insects are this time of year.”

And he was proud, of his insolence, of his overflowing egotism, which he displayed like the most expensive and chic jacket he owned in his priceless wardrobe.

“Tyler,” you began, inhaling as you tried to calm yourself, “‘piss off.’”

“Such a soft language.” He sneered, lounging in your chair as if he'd ordered its manufacture himself. Who knows, maybe all the academy's furniture rested on his family's finances. “Do they all speak like that in Zaun?”

“Why ? Wanna go visit ?” You inquired, crossing your arms over your chest. “I wonder what'll get taken first, your pretty blonde locks, or your tongue.”

You played on his unfamiliarity with the city, his prejudices ingrained in his mind, unfolding a terrain of fictitious threats that could be very useful to you.

It had its effect. For a slight moment, you noticed the concern in his eyes, a very silent ‘... is that true?’ that didn't cross the boundary between his mind and lips.

“My patron came to me.” He confessed, looking away as if ignoring you. “Seems like your detention ran a bit short, didn't it?”

You heard Viktor chuckle, but didn't even turn around. “It's just like you said, Miss.” he remarked, leaning forward on the table. “Looks like he is obsessed with us."

“You're not worth a thought.” Tyler spat, obviously insulted by Viktor's remark. He turned to you, grabbing one of your pencils to play with like it was his. “Didn't know you had your own patron, though.”

“Let me guess.” You sighed, placing your weight on one of your hips as you stood. “Your little clever mind aligned two dots and thought that Zaun and Patron together was an impossible combination of words here in the Academy.”

He was amused, but obviously annoyed. You must have touched a reality in his reasoning that he didn't like you to know.

“This one was a second thought.” He admitted all the same. “The first was,” he leaned in slightly, “how the hell does a girl as irascible as you can manage to pull any social strings to get yourself a patron?”

You giggled, he was trying to push your buttons. Perhaps he was simply a masochist, you considered, perhaps he had a pronounced desire for humiliation. Or perhaps he was just profoundly stupid.

“Funny, I thought the same thing about you when I met you.” You offered him a smile that possessed no warmth. “But I guess walking around with a golden spoon in your mouth and shitting in silk sheets during your childhood up until now must have its advantages. Right, Hoskel ?"

Tyler frowned, hemming his lower lip in anger. His eyes shifted from yours to Viktor's. “She truly is-”

But you cut him off, placing both hands on the table and leaning towards him. “She is in front of you. And she,” your voice darkened, ”can add some new marks on your face to match the blue of your eyes.”

Tyler tensed, the seriousness in your stare convincing him for a moment that your threats weren't empty words, but promises that would come true if necessary.

He let out a nervous laugh, nodding as if you'd just given him a most satisfying demonstration. He was probably thinking, right then and there, that he was safe. That on the floor of the Academy, you wouldn't repeat the violent acts that had earned you an hour's detention.

“You, are a tough one, my friend.” he laughed. “You still have the essence of your hometown so far, you as well as he.” He turned to Viktor. “Paint stripes on a toad, it'll never make it a tiger.

Your blood ran hot, the sentence like an iron that had just burned your skin raw. You gripped his tie, pulling so hard that Tyler nearly stumbled and strangled on it as you pulled him towards your face, your face twisted with hatred.

His eyes were filled with a new fear as you rumbled, your voice low. “Say that again, and I'll fucking kill you.”

His chest bulged and sagged rapidly as his shoulders were up to his ears in fear, stressing as your knuckles turned white under the tight grip you had on his tie.

He swallowed, staying that way until, in the blink of an eye, his gaze landed on your lips.

The simple act brought you back to the reality of your proximity, of your two faces so close together that anyone could have considered this something intimate. You let go of his tie as if it carried an infection, as if it had suddenly become so hot that you had to let go of it at all costs. You frowned, stepping back, watching Tyler as he breathed just as heavily.

The great doors of the library opened, and the tiny silhouette of Heimerdinger poked his pink nose into the room. This was enough for you to put aside the previous event, same for Viktor and Tyler who both turned to the professor in surprise.

You eyes widened, straightening up as he strode contentedly towards the center of the room. What was Heimerdinger doing here?

It was unusual to find teachers in the library, and obviously all the students around you seemed just as confused about the situation. He trotted on, making his way to the very center of the room under the curious gazes of students.

“Young folks,” he called, “I have an announcement to make. Please gather around me, so that I don't have to see you all one by one in the immensity of this room."

The students exchanged surprised glances, approaching him. You looked at Viktor, who was frowning. He stood up, you approached Heimerdinger. When a small arc had formed around the professor, he cleared his throat.

“ I would have liked to have waited until our next class to tell you,” he admitted, “but with the news just in and the weekend coming up, I thought it wiser to tell you as soon as possible.”

Everyone was hanging on his every word.

“You see, we've been communicating for some time, the Academy members and myself, with The Great Demacia University.”

Murmurs began to rise in the tiny group of students, whispers about the white region running through the air.

“And we have concluded, after many very promising exchanges, that a few classes from the Piltover Academy will have the privilege of traveling to Demacia as part of a school trip.”

Surprise filled the room. A school trip?

"The Academy and I,” continued Heimerdinger as he walked hands behind his back, the two elements of his sentence simply inseparable, ”consider it a real cultural benefit to be able to organize such a program to link our two schools. The trip will therefore take place in a month and a half's time.”

Some of the students laughed, the joy of the news filling them. The idea of a school trip puzzled you. You'd never left Piltover or Zaun. You'd always clung on to those two towns, and upsetting that perspective was something you hadn't quite figured out yet. But it would undoubtedly be a good way of discovering new horizons, of not having to confine yourself to the same landscape of two cities you didn't like for different reasons.

However, your thoughts paused for a moment, as you sensed that Heimerdinger hadn't finished with his announcement.

“Yes, I know.” He chirped. “The excitement of a new journey is not a small thing in young souls. However, an event such as this deserves an organizational rearrangement.”

And that's where things got complicated.

“First of all, your duet presentations that were due in two weeks' time have now been determined by myself into an overall assignment for your year.”

The majority of students rejoiced, but your heart fell into your stomach. An assignment, spread out over the whole year, that you were to do with none other than Viktor as your sole partner in this work?

You exchanged a glance with him, the latter seeming no more affected than that, neither hot nor cold.

“And...” The professor resumed. “The planning of this event alone will eat up a good two weeks of this year. Consequently,” silence fell, everyone waiting for the end of his sentence, "the exams in each subject for this semester have been brought closer together, and will therefore take place in two weeks’ time.”

Your lips parted, as if the apocalypse had just been added to your diary.

Two weeks. You had two weeks to study everything. Two weeks to get to know everything.

Two weeks to overtake Viktor and regain your place at the top of the ranking.

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#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor fic #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane #viktor

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ylangelegy · 3 months ago

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⋆.˚ don't ask "what are we?" ♡︎ skz.

── .✦ headcanons of how the members of stray kids would be like if you were in a 'situationship' with them, ala-i like it. the boys are a bit 🚩 in this one, to varying degrees— you have been warned.

CHAN.

Chan doesn't have the time to date properly. In between managing expectations as a leader and keeping all the boys in line, he hardly has a moment to think of being in a dedicated relationship. He thinks it would only be a distraction from his goal, from everything he has built so carefully over the years.

And so maybe he settles for the next best thing— being just a little too close with you, someone who's supposed to be just a friend. Chan treats you like he's your boyfriend.

He sends 'u up?' texts at 3 AM. He spends his days off at your apartment, just lounging around. He'll hug you at any chance that he gets and chalk it up to the fact that he's always been physically affectionate.

When it comes to blurred lines, it's the worst with him. He's perfectly polite and still plenty friendly, enough to have you justifying that he probably treats everyone this way. Right?

After the nth 'u up?', after the one where you've finally had enough and you respond with "Why do you keep doing this to me?", Chan is frankly just horrified. He had no idea that his affections could be misinterpreted— a product both of his culture, and his comfort with you.

Chan will apologize profusely, will say things about 'never wanting to get your hopes up' and 'being more careful in the future'. He'll probably try his darndest to fall back in to being friends with you, but it won't work. He doesn't know how to be just friends with you.

At the end of the day, the group and its image will always come first for Chan. He wouldn't risk it for anything. If there had been a part of him that had even considered being with you, it's kept under lock and key. He tells himself over and over again that it's for the better.

🎧 friends, ed sheeran | friends don't treat me like you do— and i know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you.

MINHO.

When Minho needs to not be Lee Know, when he just needs to be Minho from Gimpo, he knows that he can count on you. It's Minho's style, to mess around with someone who knew him before all of this— the idol lifestyle, the worldwide stardom.

Minho is aware that he's being a little cruel. You only ever hear from him when he's back home, after all. He gives you nothing of his life in Stray Kids; instead, he gives you the scraps of the boy he once was.

He visits on the rare holiday and the even rarer day-offs. He'll roll his eyes when you ask him to cook for you, but he'll already have all the ingredients to your favorite dishes. He'll complain about you sitting on the kitchen counter, but he'll still listen to your stories about work, about your day-to-day life.

You could convince yourself that you're just two friends who are catching up. But if you squint, you see the little things. How Minho's comments about your suitors are always a touch bitter and snide. How his gaze lingers as you eat the meal he prepared.

And when you ask him, one evening, "Why are you here, Minho?", you almost miss the look on his face. Almost. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced with something closer to boredom. "Because I want to be," he'll say. A part of you knows that he means it. Another part of you wishes that he meant it in a different way.

Minho keeps coming home to you, but he also keeps leaving the next day. He never looks back as he drives away.

🎧 'tis the damn season, taylor swift | we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend... i'm stayin' at my parents' house, and the road not taken looks real good now.

CHANGBIN.

It should come as no surprise that Changbin finds romance in the gym. It's one of the few places he frequents outside of the company or the dorms, and it's rare for any of the boys to be with him as he goes.

Maybe you know who he is. Maybe you don't. Changbin can't really bring himself to care. The only thing he's concerned about is that your form is atrocious; he's concerned you're going to break your back if you keep it up. On the day he caves, he does it so casually— a cool offer of "Need a gym buddy?"

The two of you fall in to a ninety-minute routine every M-W-F. At first, it's strictly companionship. Over time, it becomes a little closer to friendship. And then— does Changbin's hand stay a beat too long at the small of your back? Is his hold on your bicep just a little on the possessive side? You're not entirely sure.

If nothing ever happens, it's not for the lack of trying. You've asked Chanbgin out to dinner, to drinks, but he always gives you a sheepish smile and some flimsy excuse. Prior plans. A strict diet.

Still, he's devastatingly funny, and always sincere when he compliments your progress. He touches you like you're fragile and his eyes follow you across the gym. It's torturous, the plausible deniability that you both attempt to maintain. Months in to this arrangement, you try to ask him out one last time. Like every other instance before, he looks like he's genuinely debating it.

But, like every other instance before, he shakes his head. You go your separate ways after the usual pleasantries— good night, see you next week, take care— and you learn that some things are just not meant to work out.

🎧 goodnight n go, ariana grande | it's bad enough we get along so well; just say 'good night' and go.

HYUNJIN.

Honestly, anything akin to a 'situationship' would kill a hopeless romantic like Hyunjin. A part of him thinks that he'd rather stay single than deal with the uncertainties of a casual relationship, than not give his all to just one person.

It gets lonely, though. A lot lonelier than he cares to admit. And so Hyunjin finds solace in you, in just how much he can get away with. Unlike Chan, Hyunjin is aware of what he's doing. You're an imitation of the real thing. A balm meant to soothe, but never meant to always have on.

He plays his role well. He gets sulky when you don't respond, but then he'll go days without saying a word to you. He lavishes you with words of affirmation, but it's never the words that matter the most.

It's like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. Hyunjin knows that his little charade with you doesn't drive away the lonely, not completely. It can only keep it at bay. With the life he lives, he figures that it's the most that he can get.

Out of the eight, Hyunjin is the only one who will ask you to stay. When you try to break it off, when you attempt to call him out— he's not above begging. He knows it's a little pathetic, to be so desperate for the facsimile of the romance he wants. But it's all he can afford.

It's a vicious cycle. Hyunjin is hot; Hyunjin is cold. He leaves you with a love that's lukewarm.

🎧 tug of war, carly rae jepsen | you seem too good, too good to be true. i'm loving you longer— longer than i'm used to.

JISUNG.

Jisung enjoys the anonymity that the internet can give him. There's only so much places he can go without being recognized, only so many people he can meet who don't know him as HAN from Stray Kids.

On the internet, he doesn't have to be an idol. He's just some guy in his mid-twenties, looking for romance. His profile says he likes desserts and music. He's confident, here, because the people on the other side of the screen— like you— are just as nameless.

It gives him confidence. His usual sharp humor is still in place, but he's a smooth talker, too. He shamelessly tells you what he thinks, when he thinks it— everything from that outfit suits you to I like talking to you.

One time, Jisung even jokingly tells you, I'm just trying to find inspiration for my songs. That has always been his biggest flaw: He has yet to learn how to look at a person and not see a writing prompt.

Jisung is the one who makes the cleanest cut. If you dare to ask him more about himself, or if you question what lies underneath your mutual flirtations, he'll just... leave. The internet makes it so easy to ghost, to charge it all up to experience. And if you're the one who leaves— that works, too.

It doesn't matter who leaves. It always ends the same way: Track three on their recent comeback or a member's newest [SKZ PLAYER], with Han in the credits.

🎧 bad guy, hatchie | and you could be the bad guy, i could be the bad guy. any way you wanna try, it doesn't make it feel right.

FELIX.

Felix's situation is somehow one of the worse types, because his is clearly just a matter of circumstance. It's a waltz of 'will they, won't they?', where Felix just can't seem to make up his mind on how he wants you.

He cares for you. He knows that much. And it shows, too, in the ways that you interact, in the little things he does for you. He enjoys your company, whether it's playing video games with you or teaching you how to bake. He likes you. Sure, fine.

Enough to date you, though? To put you through the terrifying ordeal that is dating an idol?... Felix isn't sure about that. He dances around the truth, inadvertently stringing you along as he goes.

In a way, it feels like the two of you are in lockstep. Felix will just barely cross the line of friendship before reeling in, before taking it back. It can be draining; it can be thrilling. It's whatever you make it.

Felix never comes to a decision. There's too much on his plate, and he will ultimately put the boys— in extension, himself— first. The two of you have the best luck in staying in touch, in settling for something that resembles a proper friendship.

(But it's still there. Felix, at the end of the day, cannot completely close himself to you. Call it kindness. Call it cruelty. The door, still half-open; the lights, still on.)

🎧 light on, maggie rogers | if you're gone for good, then i'm okay with that. if you leave the light on, then i'll leave the light on.

SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin might not be the most tactile in the group, might not be the 'clingiest' in the traditional sense of word, but he has his moments. He craves attention, companionship, people. While he has his pick of the litter with the boys, there's also only so much that they can offer.

Enter you. Let it be made clear: Seungmin would never get in an arrangement like this if you weren't both on the same page. From the get go, he tells you his intentions. "Nothing serious," he warns, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. "None of that 'love' stuff."

And it's not because Seungmin doesn't want to fall in love. Of course he wants to! But at the price of his career? Never. He's willing to compromise, though. To treat all of this almost like it's a business transaction. To only ever have you in private, in secret.

He knows his boundaries. He never gives you everything, but he also never leaves you high and dry. In a way, you're both just filling the gaps in each other's lives— almost like it's a quota. You steal away on private dates. You both get your fill of physical affection. Neither of you call it a relationship.

There are one or two versions of this story where Seungmin is the one who falls first. It is inevitably you, and when he picks up on it, there is no screaming match. No 'break up' in a parking lot. It's a quiet sort of ending where you can tell that Seungmin is just a little bit disappointed to have to cut you loose.

🎧 lowkey, niki | i know we're a little fucked up to stay still, love. be as quite as you can 'cause if anyone sees they'll just blow shit up.

JEONGIN.

Being surrounded by seven other guys who constantly treat him like he's the youngest, it's a little difficult for Jeongin to not let it get to his head. He still sometimes acts his age— especially when it comes to dating.

He's never hasty enough to cause any real damage, though there are times where he comes dangerously close. If there's anything bound to get him in to trouble, it's his tendency to just leave when something no longer serves him.

Jeongin is acutely aware, after all, of the little power that he wields. He's a big believer that he can get anything he wants as long as he puts his mind to it. And so he dates you for a short time, in a way that can only really be described as love bombing.

He loves sneaking out to go on dates, loves late night phone calls and shameless flirting. He'll send you a dozen selcas; he'll ask you to help pick out his outfit. He's sweet in a way that only somebody reckless and young can be, and it's the reason why people fall so hard and so fast.

But the moment Jeongin catches any hint of that— the impending commitment conversation, the just-about-to-hit question of 'what are we?'— he's already blocking your number. He may seem devil-may-care, but he'd been careful from the very beginning.

You'll never be able to definitively say that he flirted with you, that you were together. He knows how to cover up his tracks. When Jeongin clears out, it's always in a way that leaves you wondering: Did it really ever happen at all?

🎧 good graces, sabrina carpenter | it's not that complicated; you should stay in my good graces or i'll switch it up like that, so fast!

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