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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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DO IT RIGHT — 五夏

SatoSugu ⋅ fem reader

🔞 suggestive / partly n.sfw

SUMMARY — Suguru and Satoru each have their own differing ideas of what makes a good make out session.

WARNINGS — make outs n kissing, SatoSugu, jealousy, light angst, they fight over u, lovably annoying gojo, calling you sl*t playfully, "dirty girl" n maybe other nicknames, smidge of sexual tension/undertones ig

WORDCOUNT — 2.4k

TAGS for the lovelies !! 💗

@buttercupmuffins

" Slow and sensual; that's how it's supposed to be done, Satoru. You rush your kisses. You're too chaotic. "

" Yuh but I get more bitches than y — "

" — when was the last time you kissed a woman ? "

" Junior high. "

Suguru started cackling. The two of them were sat in your living room apartment. You peered at them from over your computer, the blue light glaring in your eyes.

" What the fuck are you two on about ? " you asked, taking your earphones out completely and halting the progress of your essay.

" None of your business. "

You sighed in response. That was such an expected response from Satoru.

" We were debating what makes a good make out session. You know, like ' fast or slow ' ? ' Chaotic or sensual ' ? Mister six eyes over here has opposition to my beliefs as usual — don't fuckin' wink at me, you freak. "

Satoru giggled. " Of course, 'cause your beliefs are flawed and quite frankly you're full of shit. Blech. Hey, you agree, don't you ? "

You looked up in thought for yourself.

" I don't know. See, chaotic movie-like kisses are something lots of people want. But then again, lots of people prefer slow and romantic kisses. They really want to intertwine bodies with their lover and — "

Suguru completed your thought.

" — and become one with each other. Yeah, you get me. "

" Hey now, I'm not saying I agree with either of you. I haven't even kissed one of you. Maybe you're both shit at kissing, now that I think 'bout it. Haha. " you chuckled to yourself.

The boys raised their brows at you. Ah, a common ground; both taking offense from you.

" Why don't you come over here 'n experiment with us, princess ? " Suguru murmured condescendingly. His earrings caught your eye.

Your stomach dropped. " Huh ? " you blinked dumbly.

" Don't get all coy with us now. Come over here. " Suguru teased.

Satoru arched a brow at you and smirked. " Yeah, come. You can help us settle this debate. "

" Mhm. " Suguru nodded.

You were reluctant, because... well, this could fuck up the friendship, right? They didn't seem to mind that, as they entrapped you between their bodies and kept you there. Imprisoned between their competing passion.

" Me first ? "

" Uh, no way, asshole. Me first. "

" I'll choose. "

" Nah, let's flip a coin. "

So they flipped a coin at Satoru's insistence.

" Call it. " Suguru said.

" Heads. " Satoru called.

You observed Suguru's attractive, veiny hands as he tossed the coin and caught it, smacking it onto the back of his hand.

" . . . heads. " Suguru groaned.

" Yay . . . smooches for Satoru. " Satoru cheered.

" You're so cringe. " you said, crinkling your nose.

" Shut up or I'll stick my tongue down your throat — "

" — you mean you weren't planning to do that ? What a pity. I like French kissing. " you teased.

That caught the boys attention. They exchanged a look, and now a tension built up between you three.

" Okay, if you want me to, then I will. " Satoru tried to remain confident, but the idea of French kissing you was destroying his cool composure.

" I want you to. So get to it, boy. " you said.

Suguru raised his brows at Satoru and smirked. He sat to your left, long leg propped along the edge of the couch, encasing you there.

Just before Satoru leaned in to kiss you, swift and cheeky as he was, Suguru interrupted with a quick, teacher-like stutter.

" Hey, nonono. We're setting a timer. Five minutes each, precisely. "

" Of course. " Satoru rolled his eyes. " Well hurry up then. "

" Impatient much ? " you chuckled under your breath. Satoru went a bit red.

The split second Suguru started the timer on his phone, Satoru engulfed you in a kiss that nearly knocked the wind out of you. He was chaotic. Feverish. Gliding those candied lips across yours was up there with the best decisions he's ever made.

He tilted his head into the kiss, tongue swiping and slipping in eagerly to play with yours. And with how he French kissed, you almost wanted to giggle; he was so playful.

Suguru watched. And observed. And thought about how he's going to win you over with his approach to kissing. What you needed, he thought while seeing how Satoru whimpered into your mouth, was a sensual man who takes his time.

" Time's up. "

" What the fu- "

A string of saliva connected you and Satoru, his lips felt tingly and he still wanted more even after devouring you.

" Five minutes go by so quick . . . "

" Uh-huh. When you're having fun. Sooo ? " Satoru looked at you expectantly.

" Rather hold back your judgment until you've tasted me, hm ? " Suguru stopped you before you made any comment on his best friend's kissing style. " Come on. Come closer. I don't bite. " he said, making the last part sound so sultry that a shiver ran down your spin.

Now Suguru . . . oh boy, Suguru. How he kissed. You were already dizzy from Satoru's fervor. But Suguru ? One little peck at your chin to test. Then he pressed teasing, leadup kisses to the corner of your lips.

" Su — " he muffled your call of his name with his lips, drinking up the rest of the syllables like a thirsty wolf.

His big hands molded to the back of your head, tangling up into your hair. Tilt tilt tilt. Press. Such a deep and hard kiss. You felt like your perception of reality got fucked up a little for a moment there.

He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, wetting it, and once you opened your mouth for him he just smirked at your acceptance. In his mind, he was aiming to kiss you like he was converting you. Damn near kissed like a cult leader, you don't know why but you thought of that description right then.

That buttery soft tongue made you moan. The sound caught both the boy's off-guard.

And then the poor white-haired boy started glaring.

" Okay, okay, time's basically up. "

" Hmmmf ? " you looked dazed.

" How much time was left before you just cancelled that ? " Suguru squinted annoyedly at his best friend, hands still keeping you in place. His lips were barely parted from yours, so every shake of subtle anger in his vocals vibrated subtly across your lips.

" I dunno, fifty-two seconds ? "

" That's almost a whole minute left you asshole ! "

" Yeah so ?! You gonna fight me over it, big boy ? " Satoru challenged.

" What are you getting so jealous for ? "

You widened your eyes at the argument springing to life. The air felt so tense and hot. You could feel their heats radiating from their faces as they flushed from anger.

" What are you kissing her so deeply for ? Are you trying to fucking prove something ? "

" Oooooooh, pretty boy is jealous jealous. " Suguru said venomously.

" Boys, please don't fight. This is not such a big deal. " your voice came in between them.

They looked at you bitterly.

" Whose kiss did you like better ? " Satoru asked.

" Mine. No offence, but Satoru you kiss like a fucking high schooler. "

Satoru clenched his jaw. " I was asking her — not you, Suguru, baby. "

Oh he's angry angry you thought. Satoru always used nicknames with people he liked, but when the word baby came out of his mouth in that tone? God have mercy on whoever's on the receiving end. Unless it was someone who could match that intensity...

" I'll tell you what I liked and disliked about both of you . . . to be fair. Okay ? How's that sound, boys ? "

God they loved it when you called them like that. Yeah, they're your boys alright. They loved being your boys.

" Okay . . . sure. That's fair. Go ahead. " Suguru said. A small nervousness crept across his chest, but he hid it well.

You paused for just a moment to collect your thoughts.

" Damn just spill already ! "

" Let her think, Satoru. Impatient bitch. "

" I will fucking bite you. "

" Then bite me. "

" Boys. Calm down. "

So they listened. Your word was supreme, after all. If you told them to stop, they stopped.

You tilted your head and slowly began laying the truth on them. " I liked the way you held the back of my head so possessively, it was really hot . . . " you told, directing at Suguru.

Satoru grimaced. Why didn't he do that? He was mentally kicking himself.

" . . . but I preferred how dramatically you kissed me. " you directed to the sulking white-haired boy. Then his features lightened a bit.

" And ? " Suguru encouraged, eager to hear more praises.

They leaned in very close for the fact they were just listening to you speak.

" I didn't like how sloppy and wet Satoru was. "

Satoru cringed at himself. He was very self-conscious about being a sloppy kisser.

" Haha, sloppy kisser. "

" Suguru shut the fuck up. "

You quickly turned down the heat between them and knocked Suguru off his high horse.

" You're a bit of a show-off kisser, not as romantic as I imagined you to be. It feels like you were trying too hard to win me over, or something. "

Oh, he hated that you could deduce that. He really thought he had you.

" Fair enough . . . " it was his turn to sulk.

Satoru smirked. " So you prefer me ? " he winked, " I mean, of course you do. "

" No. I like both of you. "

" Okay, slut. " Satoru rolled his eyes. " If you had to choose — "

" Don't worry about offending us, we can take it. "

" Yeah right, you're gonna fucking cry if she chooses me. " Satoru cheeked.

The tension rose between them again. But this time, there was this... oddly violent passion. Some sort of suppressed, stifled romanticness brewed between them. It's always underlined their conversations before, even their arguments. This indescribable, undeniable tension — not the jokingly " I'm so gay for my best friend " stuff. No, something genuine. Something that was not a joke.

" Why don't you kiss each other ? " you blurted out.

Satoru looked at you like you were crazy. " What the fuck ? "

" I mean, to make it fair . . . and get better insight into how the both of you kiss ? I-I don't know, just a thought. "

" Just a thought ? A horny thought I bet. " Satoru chuckled. He was going red in the face. And so was Suguru.

" What the hell. I'm innocent. " you defended.

" Riiight. "

Suguru had been thoughtfully quiet. Then he finally spoke.

" . . . I'm down. "

" WHAT. " Satoru freaked out. His face went completely red now. You could feel how hot he was.

" Yeah let's go for it. " Suguru shrugged.

He froze up. His heart palpitated. Stomach dropped. Eyes went blown wide open.

" I-I-I yeah ? Okay ? Sure. Yeah. Alright. Then. Let's. Do — it. "

" Wow, I don't think I've ever heard you stutter like this, Satoru. " you teased.

" Shut up ?! Shut up. Let's just do it and get it over with. "

" Yeah. Okay. Come here. "

" What the fu- you come here. "

Suguru raised his brows at him. " Seriously ? "

" I'm more dom than you. " Satoru said proudly. " Come here. "

" Nah, you come here. "

" No way ! "

You sighed. " Wow, this is going to take a while. "

" Nonono, we're doing it — " he kissed him, " — see ? "

" Satoru, such a cute peck. We're supposed to make out. That's what you want, right Y/n ? "

You stomach flipped. His tone. His damn tone. That cocky glint in his eyes. Suguru was so teasingly seductive right then.

" Y-yeah. For five minutes. Just like we did. "

" Okay. Set a timer. "

Satoru looked like he was shocked from how fast he just kissed his best friend. Such a short peck had his stomach doing loopies. You could tell he was going through a crisis.

" 'kay, timer's on. "

So they melted their lips against each other right in front of you. Satoru was stiff at first, but loosened up the deeper he fell into his best friend's kiss. More than that, he succumbed to the sultry feelings that Suguru radiated. You know, he just had that thing about him. That air. He was alluring and enticing, almost dangerously so at times.

You listened. Watched. Glanced down at the timer. Really, you set a stopwatch, not a timer. A little experiment. You wanted to see how long they'd take to realize how long they've been kissing for.

And it's well over five minutes. Lips smacking, heads tilting, bodies coming closer. Suguru's bangs brushing over Satoru's cheeks, hands cupping his flushed cheeks. What a sight. Two pretty best friends going breathless over each other.

" 'how long's it been ? " Satoru mumbles in between kisses, totally in a dazed state.

You hide your smirk. " Just a bit left. "

Suguru gave you a suspicious side eye. Oh, butterflies. He caught onto you right then.

He thought;

Well if you want us to put on a show, we'll put on a show. Just for you.

And dipped his tongue between Satoru's parted lips, erotically swirling around — slow, sensual, languid.

" ahmmm ~ " Satoru almost made a noise close to a moan, and then got embarrassed.

You gulped and watched. Did they forget they were doing this in front of you? Your face was right there.

You stared hard.

Suguru smirked and parted from the kiss, holding the face of a dazed-looking Satoru in the palms of his hands as he spoke to you.

" Did you even set a timer ? Ah, whatever. Stop staring, dirty girl. Come join the fun. Three's company, you know ? "

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

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Could you please do reader is Pierre or Daniel girlfriend and he’s so soft for her but she’s Lando bestfriend’s and him and Lando always fight over her, fluffy please with Lando being dramatic little shit?

Yay, I love this idea.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

The Brit and the Croissant

The paddock was buzzing with the usual chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled around the garages, drivers huddled with their teams, and fans filled the grandstands, eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite racers. Y/N stood at the entrance of the Alpine garage, her eyes scanning the scene for a familiar figure. The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, but all she cared about was finding him—Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend and the love of her life.

She spotted him adjusting his helmet, his usual confident smirk on display as he chatted with his race engineer. Pierre's eyes met hers, and his expression immediately softened. His cocky smile was replaced with a gentle one, reserved only for her.

“Mon amour!” Pierre called out, walking over and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, holding her close. “I missed you.”

Y/N laughed softly, running her fingers through his messy hair. “I saw you two hours ago, Pierre.”

“Two hours too long,” he mumbled into her hair, tightening his embrace.

Y/N loved how soft he was with her, how he let his guard down completely. On the track, he was fierce and competitive, but with her, he was a different person. She kissed him lightly on the lips, but before they could get lost in their little bubble, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he sauntered over, wearing his bright McLaren suit and a pout that would rival a toddler. “You’re always hogging her, Gasly.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, a smirk forming. “Jealous, Norris?”

“No,” Lando scoffed, but his face said otherwise. He turned to Y/N, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N. You promised you’d hang out with me today, and someone”—he shot Pierre a pointed look—“keeps stealing you away.”

Y/N chuckled, enjoying their little rivalry. “I’m not an object, you know. I can hang out with both of you.”

Lando placed a hand over his heart, dramatically sighing as if he’d been wounded. “Wow, Y/N, my best friend, my number one supporter…betrayed.” He wiped an imaginary tear, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

Pierre rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “You’re such a drama queen, Lando.”

“Says the guy who throws a fit every time he doesn’t get his favorite croissants,” Lando shot back, making Y/N giggle. Pierre’s love for pastries was notorious in the paddock.

“Touché,” Y/N teased, nudging Pierre playfully. “I have to give him that one.”

Pierre feigned a wounded look, leaning against the wall dramatically. “Et tu, mon amour? You wound me.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled skin. “You know you’re my favorite French drama queen.”

Before Pierre could reply, Lando grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her towards the McLaren garage. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go prank Oscar. I’ve got some rubber snakes that he’s definitely not going to like.”

Y/N shot Pierre an apologetic look, but he just waved them off, his expression soft. “Have fun. But remember, I get her back later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said dismissively, already plotting mischief. “We’ll return her in one piece.”

Pierre watched them walk away, his heart swelling as he saw Y/N’s bright smile. He loved her friendship with Lando, even if it meant sharing her attention more than he would have liked. Lando might be his rival on the track, but off it, the three of them had a bond that was rare and precious.

---

The day passed in a blur of laughter and chaos. Lando’s prank on Oscar had been a roaring success, ending with Oscar chasing Lando around the garage while Y/N tried—and failed—to stop laughing. They spent the afternoon joking around, watching practice sessions, and taking silly selfies, much to the amusement of the McLaren team.

But as evening approached, Y/N found herself missing Pierre. She loved Lando like a brother, but Pierre was her heart. She slipped away from the McLaren hospitality, making her way back to the Alpine motorhome.

Pierre was waiting for her, sitting on the steps with his phone in hand. When he saw her approaching, his face lit up, and he stood up to greet her.

“Back so soon?” he teased, though his eyes were full of warmth.

“I missed you,” Y/N admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Pierre kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly. “I missed you too, chérie. Did you and Lando have fun?”

“Yeah, but he’s such a handful,” Y/N said, pulling back to look up at him. “He’s like a hyperactive puppy.”

Pierre chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That’s why you’re good for him. You keep him grounded. But… I’m glad you’re back with me.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest whenever he looked at her like that. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Just as they were sharing a quiet moment, Lando’s voice broke through the calm. “Oi! Lovebirds! I’m still here, you know.”

Pierre sighed, turning to see Lando leaning against the wall, watching them with a fake pout. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Norris?”

“Yeah, with you two. This is quality third-wheeling right here,” Lando said, unabashed. He sidled up beside Y/N, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Seriously though, Y/N, we need to plan more best friend days. Pierre hogs you way too much.”

Y/N laughed, pulling both boys into a side hug. “I don’t know how I got stuck with the two of you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pierre kissed her temple, his voice soft. “We’re lucky to have you, Y/N.”

Lando rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. But remember, Y/N, I was here first.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, she’s still with me, Norris.”

“Only because she pities you,” Lando shot back, sticking his tongue out like a child.

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as Pierre and Lando continued their playful bickering. It was ridiculous how they always fought over her, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Their banter was the heartbeat of her days, and no matter how much they squabbled, she knew deep down that they cared for each other in their own weird, competitive way.

---

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the three of them found themselves sitting on the grass, watching the track lights twinkle in the distance. Y/N sat between Pierre and Lando, her head resting on Pierre’s shoulder while Lando kept talking animatedly about his plans to prank Max next.

“You two are exhausting,” Y/N said, her voice laced with affection.

Pierre squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “But you love us.”

“Unfortunately,” Y/N joked, earning a laugh from both boys.

Lando bumped her shoulder with his, smiling softly. “You’re the best, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with us.”

Pierre nodded, his expression full of tenderness as he gazed at her. “Thank you for being the peace between us.”

Y/N looked between the two most important people in her life and grinned. “Always. You’re both stuck with me.”

And in that moment, with the night sky above them and the sounds of the track in the background, everything felt perfect. They were an unlikely trio, but they fit together in the best way possible, and no amount of bickering or teasing could change that.

They were family.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #pierre gasly x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x y/n #-xoxo #xoxo babygirl 💋

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cherubofthenight · 1 month ago

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things i've manifested

- moola

- a successful blog (then i deleted it cuz i thought i said all that i wanted to say until i realized i didn't)

- friendships

- s/p's to like me (and as soon as they expressed it i didn't ant them anymore.. yay.. emotional avoidance)

- books i really wanted

- shopping spree

- trips overseas

- moots

- angel numbers

- juicy couture bag

- my melody mug

- converse

- body care items

- hair care items

- passing my regulations test

- clearer skin

- thicker hair

- change in hair texture (looser curls)

- practising in a the car i want

- food multiple times including this

- lucid dreaming/shifting (it was a weird one tho like i can't tell if i shifted or lucid dreamt.. and it happened a while ago n im lowkey still disturbed BC I LITERALLY CAN'T TELL & I CAN'T REMEMBER MUCH EITHER and it wasn't some place i wanted to go.. it like.. here.. so maybe it was lucid dreaming... yep lets call it that.)

what's 'tricky' is that when these things appeared physically, i forgot i was consciously manifesting them. i only thought back and realized and then they happened in such a 'logical' way that i was like "...OH SHIT."

#cherubofthenight #loa #loassumption #hypergamy #divine feminine energy #affirmations #law of assumption #loa success #success story #femininity #angel aesthetic #it girl #i really am that girl tf #im just a girl #girlblogging #dream girl #divider by fairytopea

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abbysbasement · 2 years ago

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(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

— PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table.

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends.

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean.

And somehow, despite everything, it worked.

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago.

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!”

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed.

“Not interested, sorry.”

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off.

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit.

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?” She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence.

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay. She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way.

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod.

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them�� literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns.

“-And, and! I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.”

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one.

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily.

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest.

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery.

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed.

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house.

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off.

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room.

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs.

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

It’s fun being sardonic sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass. She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well. Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell.

–

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right?

Whatever.

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.”

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely.

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing.

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body.

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in.

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall.

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies.

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum. Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up.

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line.

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it.

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.”

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity.

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin.

You jumped.

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage.

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself.

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.”

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed.

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants.

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands.

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness.

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips.

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots.

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.”

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real.

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly.

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more.

She obliged.

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else.

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection.

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly.

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold.

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow.

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers.

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it.

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again. You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes.

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone.

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile. Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants.

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips.

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint.

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on.

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming.

Yeah.

#tiki writes #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader

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vertigoed · 1 year ago

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seasons | satoru gojo

all your life, you’ve lied but satoru knew the truth.

summary: fem!reader x richboy!satoru, childhood bestfriends, satoru is an aspiring start up entrepreneur, reader is in established relationship with toji and in lawschool (reader aged 22, satoru 24)

your friendship with satoru was strictly platonic. this was what you'd swore to everyone throughout most of your life, like a mantra playing on a broken record. that the son of the famous architect was like your older brother and that you'd rather die than see him as a man.

when you first met him, you were only 8 and he had just turned 10. his parents had recently gotten divorced, resulting in a moody satoru moving in next door, with his mom who dressed fancy and smoked a lot.

you were an extroverted child, a bit nosey and always wanting to befriend every kid you encountered. satoru, however, was the opposite. he exuded an air of shyness and snobbishness, often wrinkling his pointed nose in disdain at the things he found unamusing.

you didn't let that bother you and always knocked at his door, asking his mother if the boy can come out and play.

initially, his mom would have to drag him out, but eventually he started to warm up to you. he started to share his candy without you having to plead and some days, he'd shyly knock at your door to ask you to play.

despite satoru being older, he'd often be seen shadowing your every move, akin to a lost puppy, listening to your childish demands and playing the games that you liked.

once his voice dropped, he stopped being so obedient and started to boss you around, which of course led to many childish arguments. when you started to wear padded bras, a noticeable change occurred in satoru's behavior. he became increasingly awkward, abruptly getting up and leaving if you'd touch him the wrong way or avoiding your eyes if you wore something a bit revealing.

high school was rough for the both of you. girls either hated your guts or befriended you to solely get close to satoru. while satoru had to deal with his class mates oggling at you in the hallways and constantly being asked if he's 'done it' yet.

"y/n!"

you lifted your head from your arms, frowning in annoyance as you were just about to drift off to sleep. you tiredly watch sakura stroll over to you with a pink box in her hand.

"i was just about to sleep," you rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your hand with heavy lids.

you were barely surviving with just four hours of sleep as you stayed up all night cramming for an exam. you were in no mood to deal with sakura, already knowing what she wanted from you.

"can you give this to gojo senpai?" she hummed, placing the box on your desk, "and maybe invite him to my birthday party? of course, you need to come too-"

"do it yourself," you buried your face into the crook of your arms, hoping she'll take the hint to leave.

"please," she began to whine, crouching down next to you so she was at face level. you felt her gently shake your shoulder, "i'm too scared and you're like super close to him. just say it's from me-"

"ask shoko or suguru," you snapped.

you hated that all the girls in your grade expected you to be satoru's postman. it was almost a daily occurrence where you'd find chocolates and letters at your desk with his name labelled on it.

but one thing you hated more was when they would personally come up to you for a favour and beg until you gave in.

"but they're older and scaryyy.. please y/n."

"fine!" you groaned, cutting her off as you were unable to tolerate her pitched voice, "let me at least sleep until lunch is over."

"yay you're the best! love you!”

you could hear the girl get up and walk away, sliding the door shut behind her and finally leaving you alone in the classroom.

"she's such a rude bitch sometimes," sakura's loud voice echoed into the hallway.

"she thinks she's top shit just because she's friends with gojo senpai. but seriously, she's just his lackey don't you think so?" you heard another voice chime in and the girls all burst into laughter.

"yeah, she probably does his homework for him and wipe his ass or something because there's no way someone like gojo senpai would want to hang out..."

you felt your blood boil with anger, not necessarily at sakura, but more towards satoru. it was infuriating that people saw you as nothing more than just gojo satoru’s friend. you were sick of school feeling like his kingdom and you were some sort of side character who’s main purpose is to deliver gifts for the almighty gojo.

you look at the box wrapped in baby pink wrapping paper with a blue bow placed on top. "i'm his lackey?" you bitterly muttered to yourself, ripping the paper off.

it was a box of nama royce chocolate. you scoffed at sakura's stupidity of gifting food that was meant to be refrigerated. you scoffed down the chocolates, leaving the wrapping paper on your desk so sakura would notice.

coincidentally, you spot satoru's white hair walking past the room with shoko. you angrily sculled back some water to wash the chocolate down, before stomping out to chase your friend.

"satoru!” you take an airy breath before calling out to him.

he spun at the sound of your voice with a bright grin, his eyes trailing to the box in your hands .

"yo! another present for me?" he greeted you, blue eyes glistening with excitement, "are those nama chocolates? are they still cold-"

you stomped over and shoved the empty box into his hands, "they were cold," you lied (they were room temperature) "and really fucking delicious."

"you ate it?" he looked surprised, slowly opening the box to see it bare and looked back up with disappointment, "but they're not meant for you to eat..."

"from now on, i'm going to take a cut of your presents," you narrowed your eyes before turning to shoko who seemed to be entertained by the little scene, "hey shoko-"

"wait why are you mad at me?" satoru cuts you off and much to his annoyance, your eyes remained firmly on his friend and not him.

"it's annoying right?" shoko linked her arm with you, ignoring the taller boy, "i know exactly how you feel. before you joined this school, i had to put up with the same bullshit."

"people think i'm his lackey," you sulked, letting the older girl walk you down and leaving a confused satoru behind, "and they all think they can use me to get close to him, i'm so over it!"

"i know, we overheard those girls talk.... it's infuriating but don't let it get to you," shoko gave you a sympathetic smile, giving your arm a small squeeze in reassurance, "seriously, i don't know why people put that dumb ass on a pedestal. he's got a pretty head but it's just an accessory with nothing inside."

you laughed a little too hard at shoko's roast.

"i can hear you guys talk shit aboout me! and shoko can you tell y/n that i stood up for her to those-"

"don't worry, we'll be graduating soon so you won't have to deal with him any longer at school," shoko flashed you a grin.

following his high school graduation, satoru moved into one of his father's apartments in ginza as it was closer to his university.

despite him no longer being your neighbor, your friendship remained resolute. you would go over to his apartment almost daily after school, where you'd have a study session, then force him to buy you dinner. thanks to satoru's help, you graduated with grades good enough to get into law school.

things started to get rocky when you got into your first serious relationship at the age of 20.

the moment satoru somehow found out that your boyfriend was 37 with two kids, he lost his shit. he showed up to your door with an expression so dark, his voice so low and fraught with tension, that for the first time in your life, you felt a pang of fear within you.

"you just turning fucking 20 and you're whoring out for a guy who's almost double your fucking age?" he hissed, an unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered heavily on his breath.

"w-what? how did you find out?" you freeze at the door, slightly too frightened to move.

you purposely kept your relationship with toji fushiguro a secret as you were afraid of satoru judgement. you didn't expect him to be this upset though.

he pushed past you to let himself in. "does that matter?" satoru raised his voice. you couldn't tell if he was disappointed or disgusted. "are you with him for money? because you know i can take care of you, you just need to let me know!"

you shook your head, unable to find your voice as satoru was partially correct. money played a big part in your relationship with toji but he didn't have to know that. you bit your lip, sucking in your teeth, "money has nothing to do with this," you lied.

his brows knit into a tight scowl, "so you genuinely like that old fucker?"

"i-i," you tried to think of words to say. "you haven't even met him, he's really nice-"

"he's 16 years older than you!" his fist slams against the table, causing you to flinch in shock. his face softened, immediately regretting his outburst, "i'm sorry.”

"i'm not a kid," you spoke quietly, taking the seat next to him at the table, "i-i get why it may seem wrong but he cares for me and i'm sorry i didn't tell you. it's only been a couple months-"

"so you want to be a step mom at 20?" he said, letting out a humorless laugh, "you're in law school and you want to waste your time dating a old geezer who's got two fucking kids?"

you couldn't look at him in the eyes and kept your gaze firmly on your lap. having two kids was last of toji's issues. the man owned several clubs across roppongi and shibuya where he money laundered billions, as well as hosting highly illegal, drug infested parties for japan's top 1%.

toji getting caught was near impossible due to his connections with the law enforcement. but you were still afraid of the possible consequences of being a criminal's girlfriend and what it may do to your future career. you knew satoru had every right to be worried.

"stop being like this satoru," you let out a shaky sigh, "j-just stop caring so much."

"oh my god y/n," he groaned into his hands before tugging at his white strands in frustration, "you're fucking killing me here. how do you expect me to not care when it's you?"

"look i get it. i'm like your younger sister and obviously you'd be protective-"

your breath hitched as satoru moved at lightning speed, pressing his lips against yours. he was too quick for your mind to process what was going on as your eyes remained wide open.

it was a blur of dizzying heat, your stomach doing somersaults in a panicked, frenzy mode as your brain was screaming for you to do something- anything.

"are you okay?!" you pushed him off, your heart pounding violently against your chest and blood rush through you in a way it shouldn't.

you couldn't understand why your stomach was swarming with monstrous butterflies and your legs felt like custard. you should be repulsed, not nervous.

"no, just trying to make a point that you're not my sister," his mouth settled somewhere between a smile and a frown as his icy blue eyes bored into you.

he swiftly leaned into you again and cupped your cheek, his touch causing your breath to hitch. " you should be with me instead,” his voice barley above a whisper.

your eyes were almost bursting out your head as you stared back in disbelief, it had to be the alcohol talking.

and for the first time in your life, you felt yourself weak before his famous blue eyes that everyone seemed to swoon for. your heart fluttered and your eyes trail down to his soft lips. that kiss felt like a fever dream, you wanted to feel it again so badly...

wait, what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"you're wasted," you snapped out of the trance, breaking eye contact, “w-we should talk about this when you’re sober."

"what does he have that i don't?" he spoke calmly, his cold fingers digging into your cheek, ”besides fucking kids? was the kiss that awful?"

you pulled his hands off you, still feeling his blue orbs burning into you as you defensively cross your arms. objectively speaking, it wasn't like he was lacking in any way, if anything he was a perfect boyfriend candidate. but your friendship with him was also perfect- so perfect that you were terrified of ruining it.

your mouth opens and shuts, caught in the grip of uncertainty as your mind battled itself. you couldn't bring yourself to admit the unexpected allure of his lips- you just weren't prepared to acknowledge that truth yet.

“i'm with toji," you said softly, lowering your eyes, "i think you had too much to drink tonight, you need to leave."

his face dropped and it was like all the lights in his eyes went dim. with his shoulders slouched, he shoots you a fleeting look before leaving without another word. you found yourself tossing and turning all night, unable to close as your eyes as the hurt look he flashed upon you was etched into your memory,

the next morning, satoru acted like the kiss never happened so you followed suit and tried to forget it- after all, he was drunk so he probably blacked out.

the day you realised you loved satoru as more than just a friend, you were a few years too late.

"you're dating rumi yoshimoto?" the words escaped your lips louder than intended, causing a few heads to turn in the cafe. your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to relax your composure, "-is this why you asked to meet up?"

this was your first time seeing satoru in a couple months so when he asked to meet up at a cafe, you were bursting with excitement, even putting on some makeup before leaving the house. your shoulders deflate in disappointment and your stomach felt as if you've been punched in the guts.

"yeah," he nodded, looking up from his hot chocolate, "it only happened last week."

words failed you in that moment as a mixture of contradicting feelings wash over you. you should be happy for him, or at least be curious about the details. so why did you feel a sickening sense of jealousy?

it made sense for satoru and rumi to be together. they had been friends since college; she worked under him at his startup tech company and they were both attractive and available. on the other hand, you were already in a three-year-long relationship with no right to be salty.

"wow, this is the first time you've even spoken to me about another girl," you tried to sound nonchalant, but your stomach churned. you take a long sip of you drink to wash down the tightness of your throat, "i never even thought you'd be interested in rumi."

satoru's love life had been virtually non-existent- or so you thought- aside from a few casual one night stands in the past that he never bothered to discuss with you. you'd try to get him to talk about the few girls he hooked up with, but he'd scrunch his nose in disgust in response.

he had thousands of beautiful girls at his feet, yet he'd claim nobody was good enough for him. rumi was the last woman you thought would be good enough for gojo satoru.

"i guess i only started liking her a few weeks ago."

you shift uncomfortably at the thought of satoru and rumi dating. act normal. why are you being such a weirdo? you silently scold yourself,.

you take a small breath and force the corners of your mouth into a smile. "h-how did it start?" you kept your attention on your melon soda, stirring it with the straw, "who confessed to who first?"

"she asked me out then i told her to give me a couple weeks to think about it," he leaned back in his seat to stretch out his long arms as he yawned, clearly showing that this conversation was boring him. you couldn't help but admire the cords of muscle in his thick forearms bulge with each flex of movement, "but, anyway that's me. how's your life been?"

"huh?" you blinked, breaking your gaze away from his body and hastily divert your attention elsewhere. you prayed he didn't see you checking him out. "oh um, good. i finished my exams so i'm done for the year and uh... going on a trip in a few weeks."

"to where?"

"europe," you gulped, stirring the ice cream into the green drink.

satoru kept quiet. he didn't even have to ask who you were going with. toji fushiguro had become the forbidden topic between you two.

"rumi huh?" you take a tip out of your drink, hastily changing the subject to break the tension, "how long did she have feelings for you?"

you've only met rumi a handful of times but it was enough to get a slight feeling that she had a crush on satoru, as you noticed her lingering stares on him whenever you met her at one of his parties.

"she said since freshman year in college, so six years or so," he shrugged, "i don't know how i feel about dating someone who works under me though."

you wanted to tell him it's a horrible idea, that rumi could never match his energy and he should break it off. you bite your cheek. you should be supportive and play the best friend role like you're supposed to.

"love can grow over time," you gulped, fiddling with the hem of your sweater underneath the table, "just give it a chance."

you were burning with self hatred at that moment. you coulnd't understand why you were so bummed out by this, why it was so upsetting that-

“i wish you'd stop me."

a baby started screaming on top of their lungs simultaneously as he spoke. you furrowed your brows, leaning in, “huh?”

you weren't sure if you just misheard but did he just say? no, you must've misheard.

“nothing, i said let's go,” he looked away and got up, “i'll pay."

you follow the six foot four man outside, the cold winter air brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver and tighten the scarf around your neck. you watched how satoru walked with confidence, head held high and ignoring every head that turned to admire the model like man.

"let me drive you home," he turned to you, "i parked a few blocks down."

"okay," you nodded, quickening your pace to close the gap between you two, "so, how's the business going?"

"good," he answered, "i've got a meeting with an investor next week."

you get into his sleek black mclaren, buckling yourself as he started up the engine. "do you mind if we drop by the office on the way to yours? just need to grab my laptop," he said, resting his hand behind your head rest as he reversed out.

“i don’t mind,” you answered, playing with the rings on your finger as you looked out the tinted windows.

your mind drifts off to the night satoru kissed you. even three years later, you frequently thought about it. you always questioned if it was fueled by the alcohol or genuine feelings; wondering what would’ve happened happened if you kissed him back and what if you didn't push him away- would you have left toji and be his girlfriend instead of rumi?

truth be told, you weren't even certain how you felt towards satoru at this stage. the thought of being in a relationship with him terrified you. you were never a believer in true love and rather believed in statistics that proved 70% of relationships fail in the first year.

you simply loved him too much so you didn’t want to risk possibly losing your friendship over a relationship that was bound to fail.

satoru pulls into the parking lot of his office that was tucked in between a diner and a vintage records shop. satoru’s office was location on the top floor of the 50 storey building that his father owned and the rest of the building was shared with other businesses.

you raised a brow when you saw rumi's car was also parked. you casually announced that you'll follow him in.

"i’ll try to be quick, ten minutes max," satoru turned to you in the elevator as you smoothed down your hair.

"yeah, that's fine," you shrugged, checking your reflection in the mirror.

satoru's stare lingers on you, breaking off when the elevator door opens, revealing the woman you were hoping to see. your eyes trail down to her outfit, a tight midi skirt and cream colored turtleneck.

"h-hey guys!" rumi's voice was pitched, clearly surprised to see you, "what are you doing here?"

her usual black hair was curled into loose waves and she wasn't wearing her thick rimmed glasses that hid her features. she looked pretty and you hated that.

"hey, i'm just getting my laptop," the arctic haired man greets the girl, oblivious to her stunned reaction.

you knew rumi never liked you- or at least, was uncomfortable around you- but, you didn't mind that, especially in times like this, watching her squirm bought you satisfaction.

"hey rumi, congrats on the new relationship!" you chirped brightly at the taller woman, a wide smile plastered on your face, "i'm guessing that's why you're all dressed up?"

satoru shoots rumi a cursory glance without much expression.

"oh... s-satoru already told you," she stuttered, looking at her new boyfriend, who was oblivious to her tone with her lips pressed into a tight smile.

"well, i'm going to be in the office, text me when you get home," the tall man gives his girlfriend another fleeting look before leaving his defenseless girlfriend to your antics.

the dark haired woman wrapped her arms around herself, shifting uncomfortably in her boots, "s-so what are you guys doing after?"

"oh us?" your tone was causal and light, "we're probably going to chill at mine."

rumi's face goes pale and you notice her jaw clench ever so slightly. you laugh and give her a light slap on the shoulder, "what's with the face! don't worry, it's nothing like that," you giggled.

poor rumi start to laugh with you, although she didn't know what was so funny. rumi swallowed her discomfort. after all, you're satoru's childhood friend, practically family and she'd only started dating him a week ago.

"i'm not worried," rumi plastered a smile, meeting your eyes.

well you should be, you think to yourself but instead, you smile back at her. "oh by the way," you lowered your voice, "you got like food stuck in your teeth, must've been from lunch."

you gesture at the left side of your mouth, your lips curled into a faint smirk. rumi turns her head down to the floor and pressed the elevator button to go down, muttering a goodbye to you.

did you feel like immature? yes but what could you do when all you could see is green?

you give the door a quick knock before stepping into the office. satoru was busily typing away at his laptop, not even bothering to acknowledge you.

you walked over to his chair to peek over his shoulder, scrunching your nose at all the complicated coding stuff. you sat yourself on the massive couch facing the french windows.

one prominent feature of the's office was the wall made entirely of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, showing a panoramic view of lively shinjuku below. the sun was setting, casting a gorgeous hue of purple and red over the cityscape of towering buildings with glistening lights and billboards. no matter how many times you've visited his work place, you couldn't get over this sight.

you then tried to focus on your phone, mindlessly scrolling in between apps. a fan edit of satoru's high school photos showed up on your tiktok feed, your lips twitch into a wistful smile as you reminisce on your youth.

back then, people expected him to become an athlete or a professional mma fighter due to his innate atheletic talents. nobody expected him to enroll in computer science and all thought he was wasting his gift.

little did they know satoru also happened to be a coding genius. at the age of 20, he was making headlines in the tech industry, labelled as the gen z mark zukerberg. tiktok and twitter soon found out about gojo satoru, which led to him becoming an online sensation with millions of fans thirsting over him.

your eyes float over to your friend. you were still in disbelief that satoru was finally in his first relationship at the age of 24. as stupid as this may sound, but you never thought this day would come- well not this quick anyway.

"i can feel you staring at me," he broke off your chain of thoughts, catching you off guard. your face heats up in embarrassment and you hastily avert your gaze away. he stood from his seat as he packed his laptop into his bag, "what did i do?"

"nothing," you shook your head as you got up from the couch.

suddenly, you heard satoru's stomach grumble. "i cooked pasta for lunch, do you want some?" you asked as you wait for the elevator.

you bit your lip, watching the flicker of surprise crosses his eyes as he hesitate to answer.

"yeah alright." satoru brushed off the slight prick in his moral compass, telling himself there was no harm in just going over to a friend's apartment for dinner.

so when rumi texted him asking him what he was doing later that night, he lied and replied saying he was at suguru's apartment. when in reality, he was sitting on your couch, lighting up a blunt, with you sitting comfortably close.

he tried to ignore his conscientious side nagging him that this was wrong. not because you're a woman.

but, because it was you. the one who made his heart race whenever your skin brushed against his. only you could turn him on just by your scent or the way you looked up at him with glistening eyes. only you could get him hard by innocently bending over to pick up the fallen remote.

it was you that he was alone with while he's in a committed relationship, which was why he had to leave.

"i have to go," he took an airy breath, standing up from the sofa without a glance.

he never thought of himself as a good guy. in fact he’s done plenty of morally questionable things in the past. but he knew he wasn't going to let himself become a cheater like his father.

"what, why?" you get up as well, following him to the door as he hurriedly shrugged his jacket on.

you grabbed his wrist so he'd face you but his 6'4 frame wouldn't budge.

"i-i shouldn't be doing this," he said with a stoic expression.

"why? we're just watching a movie," you were beyond confused as he was laughing at the movie ten minutes ago. you racked you brain, trying to think what you did wrong that could've upset him so much.

satoru pulled out of your grip and seemed to hesitate to say something before shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh, "i'll text you," he murmured, before closing the door behind him.

you don't notice the tears pooling down your eyes, lips quivering as your knees dropped you to the floor. you were only watching a movie with him, something you've done a million times with him. it hurt to know things were going to change from now. you felt pathetic, wallowing like this in self pity and regret.

you wished you didn't care so much and that you could be happy for them. it wasn't like you could rewind the time and change the past, but still, you desperately wished you could take back those words you said.

you thought back to all the times satoru had cared for you, in a way nobody had before. he was never the type of person to verbally express his love, instead showed it everyday with abundance.

satoru was the type to remember you complaining about your headphones being uncomfortable and casually get you a new pair the next day, under the guise that he accidentally bought himself two sets.

there was a phase in high school when you and satoru would often have petty arguments and you'd act like a total brat to him, your teenage hormones fueling your emotions to hurl hurtful insults. surprisingly though, satoru would still drive you to school the next day, albeit, it was always a silent car ride as he still held a grudge against you.

he knew every detail about you and sometimes you felt like he knew you better than yourself. he kept you grounded, always pushing you to be better. even when he was drowning in college exams, he'd still make time to tutor you and helped you keep in track with your studies, knowing you lacked self discipline and would procrastinate if he didn't do so.

when your grandmother passed away, he wasn't sure what to say to comfort you- instead, he cried with you and stayed until you were okay. with satoru by your side, you never once felt alone. it was no secret that you loved satoru but it was daunting to finally realise how deep it was.

was this how satoru felt when he found out about toji?

i didnt proof read this but yay thank u if u read this far.

(reader is so messy ik )

#gojo satoru fic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic

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cantwritethetword · 10 months ago

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Donna, Human, Yes

Fic Descript: During an argument, Donna discovers that the doctor has a rather human weakness. When he insists he's not ticklish, she has to prove him wrong.

~A/N - I RETURN FROM THE DEADDDDDDDDDD

Yes writers blocked kicked my ASS last year (aside from squealing santa, i feel like i did ok with that one hehe) but I'm back with this lil fic.

I watched the Doctor Who specials FINALLY and I cried so many times omfg it was so good to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate back together again being lil chaotic besties through all of time and space, so of course I had to write something for it !!!!

And you are bearing witness to the magic of my adhd meds in action !!! I've been so productive in the last hour it's great !!! (EDIT: didn't write this in an hour, just to be clear. took me a little while but ADHD MEDS WORKED FOR BOTH TIMES YAY)

Just something cute and fluffy af ^^ love you all <3

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @carrie-tate

Masterpost Link

The bond between Donna and The Doctor was certainly one for the ages.

Human words couldn't do justice to the type of bond they had, at least that's what The Doctor claimed in his newer, more openly emotional regeneration. Their love was too strong for just the term of friendship, too close for anything romantically implied, too adoring to be siblings. Even the term soulmates had a particularly selective connotation to it that left a bad taste in The Doctor's mouth.

Nevertheless, it was clear they could hardly live without the other. There was enough love between them to power galaxies, and knowing their history neither would be surprised if it had.

And it was this closeness, this fierce tenderness, that led to discussions such as this. Displays of deep affection half-heartedly disguised behind harsh tones and disgruntled gestures.

"You may be a high and mighty Time Lord, but you're still an idiot." Donna huffed, as the TARDIS finally settled after takeoff.

The Doctor scoffed. "I'll try not to take that to heart, and I thought that escape went quite well!"

"YOU THOUGHT-" Donna stopped herself, breathing deeply to try and contain her shit that was threatening to lose itself. "The only reason we even STARTED to escape was because I PUSHED YOU TO THE EXIT!"

"Well yeahhhh..." The Doctor rolled his head, letting his eyes drift away from his companion's. "But-."

"But NOTHING." Donna interjected. "It's the same thing every time! You start running your mouth and saving the day, and that's wonderful, but you don't know when to stop!"

"Donna I-"

"Let me finish." She snapped, raising a pointed finger towards him and stepping closer.

The Doctor held his hands up in front of him with a gentle nod of the head.

"You drag yourself through hell, running and ranting and... and sonic-ing!"

A small snicker escaped The Doctor, but he straightened his face almost instantly after when her angry look didn't waver.

"You can't control yourself!"

He didn't dare argue.

"I always have to pull. your. arse. out.!" She accentuated each of the last words with a corresponding poke to The Doctor's torso.

And while she expected the pokes to help get her point across, she definitely was not expecting the almost childish giggle that spilled out of his mouth. Or the awkward jerk his body made to cover the ribs she had prodded.

But Donna wasn't stupid. She didn't waste any time in a state of surprise, no she jumped straight to (correct) conclusions.

"Oh no way." She grinned, creeping closer to the now incredibly flustered Time Lord.

"Now Donna," The Doctor began, his mouth twitching upwards in a nervous smile of self-betrayal. "You don't know what this is."

Donna gave a singular breathy chuckle. "Nice try sunshine, but you're not yapping your way out of this one."

"There are countless reasons why... why I would... flinch away from you like that!" He continued rambling.

"I know ticklish when I see it sweetheart." She smiled sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about the predatory glint in her eyes.

"What?!" The Doctor tensed, almost frozen in place at the mention of the word. Though quickly forced himself back into talking his way out of the situation in a faux-calm tone. "Uh, Doctor, Time Lord, no."

She smirked, stepping closer to him.

"Donna," she paused, reveling in just how much she was getting to him. "Human," she paused again, less than a few feet away from him. "Yes."

And then she lunged.

Her hands met his sides and The Doctor curled inwards, his arms tangling themselves in a fruitless effort to push her away.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of Donna's fingertips clawing against the fabric of The Doctor's shirt, before he finally cracked.

Bubbly giggles spluttered out of The Doctor's chest as he folded forwards, allowing Donna to slip behind him and trap him in a bear hug. His knees slowly buckled, and (with no chance at keeping someone his height upright by herself), Donna followed his squirming body to the floor.

"Dohohohonnahaha!" He squeaked between bouts of helpless laughter, but her name was barely comprehensible amongst the childish noises she tickled out of him. "Ihihihi-!... wahahai-!... stahahaha-!..."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes as her hands climbed up into his armpits. "What was that?"

He couldn't reply with anything other than a squeal, writhing for a few seconds before his body finally submitted to the playful torture. He tried to splutter a few words out, but nothing could make its way through the torrent of giggles currently occupying his voice box. THe man had gone practically limp, aside from his hands which were still seized up like a tyrannosaurus rex.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." Donna shook her head in amusement as she skittered her fingernails around his collarbones. "That anyone would render you speechless."

"DOHOHOHON-! WAHAHAI-! IHIHIHI-!"

She laughed again. "Keep trying space man."

"IHIHIHI-! CAHAHAHA-!" He chortled, his hands suddenly free enough to slap themselves to his cheeks to cover his embarrassment.

"Whaaaat~?" She teased, rapidly poking him in one side while squeezing the other.

"IT TIHIHICKLES!" He somehow blurted out, before breaking into cackles as Donna transitioned to dual-hand squeezing. "DONNA PLEHEHEASE!"

It was Donna's turn to cackle, though hers was much shorter and much more controlled of course. "It tickles, does it? I had no idea."

Aside from the odd jolt when Donna hit a particularly sensitive spot, The Doctor had gone practically limp. All that laughter had fully sapped his energy, and he was leaning his back against Donna's chest to keep himself upright.

Taking her chance, Donna once again decided to change her position to further destroy the man. Sliding back from under him (taking care he wouldn't fall back and whack his head on the TARDIS floor - she wasn't that cruel), Donna pulled his arms from covering his face and stretched them above his head.

In his state of ticklish delirium, The Doctor didn't quite notice what was happening. Assuming she had finally taken pity on him, he focused on catching his breath with a stupid grin still stuck to his face.

That was until the moment her shins pinned his arms to the floor.

He locked eyes with her, now fully aware of just how screwed he was. With Donna kneeling above him, she had full access to the armpits she had assaulted with ticklish claws just moments ago.

"Nononono Donna you can't!" He begged, legs kicking wildly with every word. "You'll kill me!"

She shrugged, "You'll regenerate." before putting her typing skills to good use and pitter-pattering her fingertips against his underarms.

The Doctor clamped his mouth closed, thrashing his head to one side with his eyes screwed shut in a soon-to-be vain attempt to not react to the unbearable sensations radiating through his body. But even a mighty Time Lord could only hold out for so long.

After less than ten seconds (which The Doctor would later argue was a rather impressive length of time), he crumbled. The childish, high-pitched giggles returned and he was once again a mess beneath Donna's touch.

"Oh!" Donna gasped, slowing her fingers in response to the Doctor's slightly wheezy breathing. "And if you do regenerate, I'll be the first person ever to tickle two Time Lords!"

Aside from the occasional titter, The Doctor could finally gain control over himself again. He gulped mouthfuls of air as Donna climbed off his arms, and slowly sat up next to her.

"Not-" He panted, still more than a little out of breath.

Donna chuckled. "Take your time."

"Not tw-" His huffing interrupted again. "Not two."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Even if I-... regenerate... I'm still the same... singular Time Lord." He corrected. "You've only tickled the one, and to be honest it happened a lot back on Gallifrey so you're not particularly sp-"

She barked a singular laugh, cutting him off. "God, you really don't know when to shut up."

His confusion turned to giggly panic when Donna pushed him back to the floor again and sat on top of his hips. "Nononono Donna not agAIN-!"

#crow's tickle fic #doctor who tickle fic #tenth doctor tickle fic #is the ending kind of abrupt? idk please tell me lol #this was a cute fic tho i like it hehehehehe

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literallylyn27-02-97 · 4 months ago

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Do you have aby hcs involving n and silver being friends?

I have a few actually!

Outside of Masters, the first time they meet is when Lance and Alder both don't wanna leave their respective sons by themselves, so they take them to a league meeting with them.

At first Silver and N are pretty shy with each other cuz they both can't socialise for shit /aff but they start talking eventually with there not being much else to do.

And that's how they learn about their shared trauma of their fathers running an evil organisation and treating their sons like trash!! Yay!!

Naturally they bond a bit more after that, and Silver learns about N's ability to communicate with Pokémon, which he's really shocked by, but also fascinated.

But he also notices how strong of a bond N seems to have with Pokémon, and so he asks for help with bonding with his own. So N shows him a lot of ways he can treat his Pokémon better, and build on their friendship/affection.

Because they live in separate regions, they mainly keep in touch through the Internet, but Alder and Lance also notice how friendly the two are, so they start bringing them to a lot more League meetings, and sure enough, the two actually look forward to seeing each other and hanging out!

They get to have sleepovers whenever Lance and Alder have to stay in a region for a few days for League stuff.

Silver has introduced N to Ethan and Lyra when they were in Johto together once. (They were both shocked to Learn Silver was even capable of making friends /lh.)

They have trauma dumping sessions about their former dad's together. Sometimes Alder/Lance overhear it and get very concerned-

Thx so much for the ask!! :D

#pokemon #pokémon headcanons #dad lance #rival silver #dad alder #champion alder #headcanons #n harmonia #n and silver friendship real #champion lance #friendship headcanons

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ask-missparker · 2 months ago

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Okay, who’s driving? ~ Marvel Blurb

Pairing: Mia x Nikolai, Liane x Ethan, Rick x Luna, Cole x Jeremy

Friendship pair: Josh & Bella

Summary: Moments like this the universe just wants to make it harder on us. In other words, they should’ve just called Cole…

Other characters included/mentioned: Rochelle, Michelle, Cole, Rick and Luna

Warning: Slight small mention of labor, but it is mostly comedic relief to move the story forward more than anything else. Nothing graphic or informative or insane. So you’re fine. ANYWAYs, please chaos from the young avengers and family members enjoy 😉

Note: Sorta OUAT but also could be Marvel fic haha (depending on how you look at it 😊)

A/N: This was a fun idea that could be seen as crack too, due to how much going on in the fanfic. Please enjoy!

~~~~~

It was supposed to be a simple afternoon—well simple for the average group, due to them all hunting down the potions and stuff to stop the tide coming their way. A wicked protection spell.

You know save the day and explore that kinda thing?

So in response they were all sent a little goose chase and hunt for it at the docks.

It was good, they found the hidden gems and a piece of the puzzle to make the potion for later. Even broke half of the curse, destroying the spell, thanks to Liane, Joshua and Bella—restoring memories back for everyone. Yay, everything is safe and sound.

Just as things were going well at the docks with everyone talking and deciding to go back to the town square, Mia felt something off. She gripped Nikolai’s bicep and winced slightly.

“Love, are you alright?” He asked softly placing a hand on her lower back for support.

Mia chuckled awkwardly, “Eh, he he, well, either that was a Braxton Hick or a real one…”

“You’re a two weeks early, t-that’s not possible.” He replied in surprise, his tone sounding calm despite him internally freaking out.

“Yeah, well, since when have your children ever been one to surprise us by coming late?” She added jokingly.

Ethan, who was walking with Liane, looked up noticing his friends in distress. He knew his question would sound stupid, yet he still asked, “Are you guys alright?”

“You’re about to be an uncle again.” Mia murmured before clearing her throat once the contractions left and smiled in relief.

“Oh shit! I’mma be uncle again, I wasn’t there the first time around and now I am! This is exciting news—”

He was swiftly cut off by Nikolai who chuckled, “Uh Ethan, buddy, can you help me get everyone in the cars? Mia, where are the keys?”

Liane gasped, “You let her pregnant ass drive us to the docks?! Have you no shame?!”

“No! We took her car and I drove us here, I gave her the keys for safe keeping afterwards!”

“That still doesn’t make sense to me! You got magic and you couldn’t drive yourself!?”

“My car is getting fixed at Tony’s shop! We did needed another form of transportation here, and I will have you know I drive pretty well.”

Liane grinned, “Well in that case I’m driving! Me and the kids in one car. Ethan, Nik and Mia in the other. To the hospital people! Chop chop!”

The blonde sounded way too confident and overly proud of herself with that statement.

Everyone else looked at her like she was nuts. Yes, they were all vastly skilled in their respective fields but they all had their weaknesses. Everyone and their mother knew that Liane wasn’t the best driver per se.

Ethan loved his wife too much to say anything about it, as he was too busy in shock that Liane snatch the keys out of his hand. Joshua rolled his eyes and groaned at the idea, rubbing his mother’s shoulder in comfort. Even he was a better player in driving someone around.

Nikolai whined knowing it wasn’t the best idea to have the blonde drive both teenagers around to the hospital.

The only one truly brave enough in the chaos at the moment, despite being awakened by the curse to speak up was youngest lady there.

“Absolutely not!” Belladonna exclaimed snatching the keys out of her mom’s hands. “Are we really going to listen to her? Josh back me up here!”

Liane gasped in offensive frustration, “Um excuse you, young lady, but who do you think you’re talking to, sweetie?”

“Mom, I love you, but unfortunately you’re not the best driver.”

“I’m an experienced and excellent driver, sweetie.”

Bella muttered under her breath, “Yeah, when we were cursed and under that damn spell…”

“BELLA?!” Liane screamed in shock and gasped. “My own daughter this is—”

Joshua sighed speaking up, “Aunt Lia, she’s got a point. Last week you decided to give an another driving lesson and crash into a mailbox.”

Liane eyes widen and scoffed, “Well if I ever…it was one time!”

Joshua smirked, “It happened more than once. Also I think I should drive.”

“Him?!” Ethan yelled putting stuff in the car and bumping his head against the trunk.

“You?!” Liane added dramatically, “You’re both children you don’t even have you—”

Bella smirked as well nudging for Joshua to pull out his drivers permit, as he showed it to the others. Liane’s jaw dropped as Ethan blinked. Nikolai was rubbing his wife’s back and snickered at their reactions. He was proud.

“Since when did you-?!” Liane yelled breaking the silence.

“Back in New York, I got it.” Joshua added simply, a hint of confidence in his tone.

Bella couldn’t help but crack a smile and tease him, “Yeah, sure, it took him almost 6 months but he got it..”

Soon enough, different set of bickering broke out between the 5 of them.

“They are both babies they aren’t drive!”

“Liane not the time!”

“I can’t believe you decided to tell us now, Ethan?!”

“What you yelling at me for?!”

“I don’t know, it just feels right to yell.”

“Oh my god..”

“Are you sure we can’t all just drive together in one car?”

“Not a bad idea…out of both of us, who was the biggest space?”

“Idiot, how would that work, Nikolai?”

“I’m brainstorming, shut up.”

“Cause you guys stop fighting please? It’s not helping. I can take us three there, while Ethan gets there first.”

“Joshua, you’re a child!”

“I’m 17!”

“It was worth a shot, Bella…”

“Just let me drive!”

“Mom no!”

“Bella, please, the adults are talking.”

“You don’t even the slightest directions to the hospital!”

“THERE IS GPS FOR A REASON!”

“Shouldn’t we just call an ambulance?”

“That would take too long, Ethan!”

“Oh my goodness my nieces are gonna be born on a dock!?”

“No they ain’t!”

Mia finally shouted over everyone, “GUYS!”

“What?!” They all yelled back.

She sighed pointing to herself in a sing song tone, as if stating the obvious. “Hello.” She added hands on her hips for added effect.

The group was silent before getting the hint all making “ohhh!” and “ah, oh yeah, right.”, along with a bunch of apologies being given by the others. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile despite the mild pain she felt, coming and going.

Ethan spoke up as they followed the lead to the cars and asked, “Wait, wait, who’s driving?”

“I am!” Liane added, as if it was obvious.

She quickly got a bunch of objections and heads being shook in disagreement over her statement. Some rapidly shouted, “NO!”

Nikolai put a hand on his wife’s shoulder in silent support and turn to the group firmly, “Ethan’s driving us, Joshua’s driving you guys.”

“Yes!” Joshua exclaimed happily as him and Bella fist bumped.

Bella called shotgun and scurried over to the car.

Liane opened her mouth to speak wondering if Nikolai was serious or not, but one firm look from the brunette and she shut up completely.

——

———

Soon enough they all arrive to the hospital, Joshua was left to park both cars as Ethan and Liane helped Mia into a wheelchair.

Nikolai was filling out forms when he noticed their friends all there. He stood there in shock, “What hell-? How did you guys—when did you guys get here?”

Michelle smiled sitting in one of the waiting chairs, “You really think we would miss this? Dude, it’s my nieces being born. Plus it’s gives me a chance to give Alexander the middle finger if he arrives.”

“I—But I didn’t call you! No one texted you.”

Bella smirked looking up from her phone, “Oh, when Josh was driving I texted Michelle. Figured she would like to know, but I didn’t expect her to come.”

Rochelle rushed in from one of the hospital rooms and smiled, “Oh hey! You’re here, that’s great, well me and Luna were already here anyway when Michelle called me.”

Mia, who was sitting in the wheelchair rubbing her backside, was about to ask what happened when the loud screams were heard down the hall. They belonged to Rick. Along with the insults.

“Long story short, Ricky got hurt earlier while experimenting on something with the kids..” Rochelle added, “He’ll be fine.”

Bella and Mia both rolled their eyes as Nikolai stayed quiet shaking his head.

Just before anyone could anything a cloud of magical thick smoke appeared. As the smoke cleared away, it showed Cole looking annoyed, angry and worried. The man was enjoying a peaceful afternoon in his shop, with his husband Jeremy while babysitting the children, when he got the damn news. He was in the middle of teaching one of his nephews, George, some cool spells! So he wasn’t happy.

Liane froze meanwhile Ethan signed looking at his brother.

“You should’ve call me!” Cole exclaimed loudly rushing over to the group. “Why did I just get a damn text from Bella that my angels are coming?! You idiots, you could’ve just call me instead of arguing over who gets the bloody keys?! UGH!”

“Cole, we can explain.” Liane started but was cut off.

“Ha! Please tell you didn’t drive, last week you hit my mailbox.”

“THAT WAS YOURS?!”

Ethan and Michelle snorted loudly but was stopped short by a glare from Cole.

Rochelle stay quiet running away to go check on Rick and Luna, not wanting to feel Cole’s wrath today. The redhead almost bumped into a wall rushing away from the group.

Besides Rick yelled, “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE?!”

Luna shouted over him, “Ricky stay still! The doctor is trying to remove the nails and splinters!”

Cole looked at Nikolai and pointed, “And you! What were you thinking?! As her husband I would believe you would have some sense to inform me or not waste time—”

Nikolai raised both eyebrows and furrow his eyebrows, “Don’t even start with me! I was more focused on my wife than calling anyone. None of us expected this to happen and we would’ve gotten here sooner, if it wasn’t for Liane’s performance.”

Liane gasped, “Me?! I offered to drive but you all refused to take me seriously.”

Bella and Ethan shared a look, slowly wheeling Mia away from the group and into her hospital room. Michelle got the hint, scurry off to follow them into the hallway as well, not without snapping pictures for blackmail later.

Joshua walked in a few minutes later, after successfully parking both cars, seeing his father, aunt and uncle Cole fighting.

“What did..?” He started before being dragged away by his best friend, “Gah, son of—!”

“Come on I’ll explain later.” Bella remarked ushering him into the room.

“Bella what did you do?!”

———

—————

Hehe I agree nothing! Also the poor mailbox 😂

Let me know what you guys think!

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @aidanxsophxoxo @meiramel @trulysummersprivate @gaminggirlsstuff and etc

#liane felton #ask missparker #liane x ethan #nik x mia #mikolai #joshua & bella #marvel blurb #ouat au #marvel au #cole lensherr #ouat x marvel fic #our ocs #oc x oc ship #oc friendship #rick banner #luna marsh #rochelle romanoff #michroch

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 10 months ago

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Like a Hurricane // JJ Maybank x OC - Part 1

Summary: Sky is a Pogue through and through. No one would doubt that. But what will happen if her Dad just disappears, and after nine months, she and her brother face the consequences with DCS? Sky tries to manage her way through a literal storm but also the storm of secrets, confessions, friendships, and... summer.

Masterlist

Warnings: language, use of alcohol, talk of death

Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC

A/N: And I'm back with an all-new Outer Banks story :) Yay! I got so invested in that show that I couldn't just binge-watch the whole show, as I didn't want it to end. And yes this is more a "reimagine". Don't @ me ;)

Summer.

Finally. We've waited a long time for the summer break to finally arrive. No more school, no more responsibilities. Not that my brother would care about that ever since our father went missing.

But hey, we're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time all the time.

On the terrace of their new hangout, the Pogues lounged, beers in hand, basking in the golden-orange hue of the setting sun. The vibe was effortlessly relaxed and warm.

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?", Pope questioned, eyeing the boy teetering on the rooftop, beer casually in tow. "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

The blonde girl with the side braid perched on a scaffold nearby, beer can in hand, gazed upward nonchalantly. "So?"

John B paused, wetting his finger and testing the wind. "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump", urged the blonde boy with the cap, sitting next to Sky.

Pope, brandishing a drill playfully, aimed it at John B. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep", he replied with a shrug.

John B mimed a gun with his hand, pointing at Pope. "Pow!"

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kiara announced, stepping out. She was striking, her light-dark skin and wavy hair catching the last light of day.

Beside Sky, JJ chuckled. "Of course. Why wouldn't they?"

Sky shared a knowing look with JJ, a sly grin on her lips. "You know what's next," she whispered, sparking a grin from JJ.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?" Kiara lamented.

"Poor turtles", Sky responded with playful sympathy, standing up.

JJ shrugged. "I can't have cold towels."

Kiara ignored him and looked up at John B. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

Sky jumped down from her perch, finishing her beer with a swift gulp. "I mean, one less Routledge, who gives a shit?" she said sarcastically. "Oh wait, me! I would give a shit. Get the fuck down, JB!"

"Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one", JJ warned his best friend.

Unfazed, John B balanced precariously, but a sudden gust of wind caught him off guard. His beer plummeted to the terrace below.

"Of course you did," JJ grumbled.

Kiara turned away, shaking her head. "Smooth..."

The blonde girl sighed and rubbed her face. "Dumbass..."

Pope, peering over the balcony, spotted a security guard emerging from a parked car.

"Hey!"

"Hey, uh, security's here," he informed the others. "Let's wrap it up."

JJ looked around, glanced quickly at Sky, and smiled. "Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll," Sky said smugly.

"Yeah," John B agreed, walking down to the others.

"Let's go, boys," Kiara smiled, and they started to hurry.

JJ, teasing as always, exclaimed: "Gary, is that you?"

"Get down", Sky said to her brother.

JJ, still in light spirits, laughs as he sees that it is indeed Gary. "Gary, good to see you, man!"

They made their way downstairs, JJ's leaking behind. "JJ!" Sky laughed and pulled him along.

With Gary's backup close behind, the Pogues had to swiftly escape, leaping fences and dodging the guards. John B had the Twinkie, his van, revved up and ready. They piled in, laughter and adrenaline mixing, as one guard gave futile chase.

"Come on guys, you're giving him a heart attack," Kiara laughs, and Sky nudges her.

In high spirits, they sped off into the summer night, the promise of adventure ahead.

The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

The nice side of the Island is called Figure Eight. It's the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

And then, there is the south side or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters.

The natural habitat of... drumroll please... the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain.

Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

But who are we?

There's JJ. My brother's best friend since the third grade. Meaning that I couldn't get rid of him even if I wanted to.

He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best male surfer I know. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't hear the end of it. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat, for sure. And then there's his secret – a massive, undeclared crush on me. Of course, I'm totally oblivious to it. No one knows about it. Well, that's the story, as my brother would probably kill him anyway.

Then there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. My best friend and the only other female Pogue apart from me. When not saving turtles or, listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo (which, for the record, I totally didn't convince her to get – okay, maybe I did), she hangs out with us. We are all not really sure why, though.

So, she's a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, my workplace, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. We are not really sure how her parents feel about us, well at least about the boys, as I think they kind of like me.

All of the guys had a thing for her at least once.

And then there's Pope. The brains of the operation... finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And probably the smartest person I know. He's a little bit of a weirdo, to be honest. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you.

Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

There's John B – my twin brother. At first glance, no one would peg us as twins. John B, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, starkly contrasts my light blonde hair and grey eyes. But beneath these superficial differences lies an unbreakable bond. John B and I have always been incredibly close, sharing a connection that goes beyond mere appearances. He's the undisputed leader of the Pogues, a role he takes as naturally as breathing. In his leadership, there's a sense of adventure, a hint of recklessness, and a deep-seated loyalty that binds all of us together. His presence is both a guiding force and a constant reminder of the unspoken understanding and support we share as twins.

And then there's me, Skylar Artemis Routledge. Or Sky. Talk about a mouthful of a name, right? Thanks a bunch, Mom and Dad. As I mentioned earlier, I'm the younger twin sister of John B – younger by a mere four minutes, a fact he never lets me forget, flaunting it like a badge of honor. My world? It revolves around the thrill of surfing, the freedom of skating, and, of course, my fiercely loyal band of friends. Oh, and about the infamous "no Pogue on Pogue macking" rule? Guilty as charged. That's on me. Or, more accurately, it's because of my overprotective brother, who's made it crystal clear: nobody messes with his "baby sister." It's a title I wear with a mix of annoyance and affection, but hey, that's family for you.

John B and I call an old fish shack on the marsh our home, fondly nicknamed "The Chateau" by our dad. That's how he always referred to it, with a hint of irony and a lot of love. Our dad... he vanished nine months ago while chasing the legend of a shipwreck. In this day and age, who just disappears at sea?

I miss him every single day. John B does, too, the weight of his absence hanging silently between us.

Our mom is a different story. She left when we were just three, a distant memory more than a mother. Last I heard of her, she was in Colorado, or at least I think it was Colorado.

But we've still got Uncle T. Ever since Dad's disappearance, he's been our so-called legal guardian. Right now, he's off in Mississippi, busy building houses. That leaves just John B and me free to roam with our friends, masters of our own little world.

Three months after Dad was declared missing, they wanted to pronounce him dead officially. But John B wouldn’t sign the papers. He's adamant that there's no giving up until he sees a body. As for me... well, as three months stretched into six, my hope quietly faded away. I hate to admit it, but I've stopped expecting a miracle.

John B and Sky found themselves seated in the stark, clinical setting of the sheriff's office, facing a social worker named Cheryl. Her gaze fixed on the twins, who wore expressions of casual, almost practiced boredom.

"John, Skylar, it's come to our attention that you're unemancipated minors living on your own," Cheryl began. At this, John B and Sky shared a quick, knowing glance before bursting into laughter.

"No... Not really," Sky drawled, slouching further in her chair, her face etched with defiance.

"No," echoed John B, shaking his head.

Cheryl sighed deeply, intertwining her fingers with a look of forced patience. "I need honesty to help you two. That's what we're aiming for, right?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the twins.

"We're being honest," John B insisted as Sky puckered her lips in a mock pout.

All too aware of the teenagers' evasiveness, Cheryl let out another sigh. "Okay, then, when's the last time either of you spoke to your uncle?"

The twins exchanged another glance, their silent communication a testament to their unspoken bond.

Sky glanced at her empty wrist. "Uh... 34 minutes ago, to be exact."

"And when did you last see him?"

This time, John B chimed in. "Two hours and, uh... 43 minutes ago?"

Sky couldn't help but chuckle, biting her lip – a habitual gesture.

"John... Skylar, we're planning to visit tomorrow to speak with your uncle. If he's not there, we'll have to proceed with foster care arrangements," Cheryl explained, her tone a mix of sternness and concern. Sky scoffed at the notion. "I assure you, our goal is to find you both a safe, loving home."

They actually thought we were gonna be happy to hear that. Bullshit! I knew that they would separate us, and, almost as bad, they would get us to the mainland.

And that's where this story starts. Our dad missing, our uncle MIA, and the bride of Frankenstein threatening us with foster care.

That evening, the Pogues sat by a fire at the beach. They had fun, but one was missing. John B sat a bit further away and gave in to his thoughts. Sky sat next to JJ, who causally had his arm around her shoulders.

"What's up with him?" JJ asked, and Pope and Kie were looking at Sky.

She sighed and shrugged. "It's his way of coping, I guess... They-" She gulped and sighed again. "They want to swing by tomorrow, talk to Uncle T."

JJ pulled Sky closer. "Come on, they can't just drag your asses away. You're Pogues. You belong here."

Sky's smile faded a little. "Tell that to them."

JJ's smile faded as well, as he looked down at the blonde next to him. Kiara couldn't help but smile at the sight. She realized, for some time now, how much JJ liked Sky. Not just liked, but liked.

"Have you heard about the hurricane? It's heading right towards us", Pope then said and showed them the news channel on his phone, and Sky looked at him, sighing.

She wiggled out of JJ's arm and stood up. "Well, at least one good thing comes of it." She took out her phone, and the others looked at her, confused.

"DCS, how can I help you?" Sky tipped her finger to her lips. "Yeah, uh... I think we have to reschedule."

As Sky was at home later, thunder was crackling, and the wind took off. JJ sat on her porch on his phone. Sky just looked out to the ocean, wondering where her brother was.

"Hey yo, you know where John B is?" she turned and looked at JJ, who looked up at her.

He shrugged. "Nah, but my guess..." He pointed his head towards the ocean.

"He's really going for it, huh?" Sky muttered under her breath, turning back to the sea again.

JJ stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Barb. He's gonna be fine."

Barb. That was another thing. JJ called me that for as long as I can remember. Well, at first, it was Surfer Barbie, what many people call me, to be honest, so he just called me Barbie, and that morphed into Barb. He's the only one who calls me that.

Sky sighed once again and turned, walking into the Chateau. JJ looked after her with a questioning look, before he sat back down on the porch.

Shortly after, Sky walked out again with a Whiskey and two glasses. "Might as well..."

She poured some of the brown liqueur into the glasses and slid one over to JJ. He grinned at Sky and took it into his hand.

"The good glasses? What's the occasion?" he asked and winked at her.

"Don't know... When Aggie hits, they might break anyway..."

They clinked the glasses together and smiled at each other before taking a sip.

Forty-five minutes later, the almost full bottle was empty, and Sky sat on the porch bench with JJ, her legs over his lap. JJ has his hands on her shins and caresses them absently.

The conversation, deep and meandering under the influence of alcohol, takes a turn as JJ gazes into the distance, where lightning from the approaching Hurricane Agatha flickers ominously. "Barb," he slurs slightly, "have you ever thought about, you know, dating one of us Pogues? Like, hypothetically speaking?"

Sky, her head leaning back, a relaxed smile on her face, responds with a teasing lilt, "JJ, you know the rule. No Pogue on Pogue macking. John B made it pretty clear."

But JJ is undeterred, his eyes intense. "That rule is bullshit. It's just something John B came up with, so we don't mack on you. But seriously, what if? What if the rule didn't exist?"

Sky turns to face him, her expression softening in the dim porch light. "What if, huh?" she muses, the alcohol making her thoughts swim. "I don't know, JJ. It's a weird thought. We're like... family, you know?"

JJ nods, serious. "Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I think, 'What if.' What if the person you're supposed to be with is right in front of you, and you're just too blind to see it because of some stupid rule?"

The confession, raw and honest, hangs between them. Sky looks into JJ's eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity within. "JJ, are you asking if I've ever thought about you that way?" she whispers, the storm's energy charging the air around them.

JJ meets her gaze, his voice earnest. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of pretending that I haven't thought about it. About you."

The intensity of the moment builds, mirroring the storm's crescendo. But then, Sky, sensing the conversation veering into serious territory that she's not ready to navigate, especially not under the influence, lets out a laugh. It's light, an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"JJ, you're drunk, and your emotions are all over the place. It's just the whiskey talking."

JJ's gaze lingers on her, a mix of longing and frustration in his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes, "but what if it's not? What if—"

Skye cuts him off with a light laugh, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his. "Oi, Bandolero, trust me. You're going to wake up tomorrow and realize you were just feeling extra sentimental because of the storm and the whiskey."

A little later, as the conversation drifted and the storm raged outside, Sky and JJ succumbed to sleep on the porch. Suddenly, Sky felt a persistent poking at her cheek.

Blearily opening her eyes, she was jolted awake by the looming figure before her, illuminated starkly by a flash of lightning.

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you out of your damn mind?" Sky exclaimed, her words directed at her drenched brother, who stood before her, surfboard in tow.

The commotion roused JJ, who blinked groggily at John B.

"That's your concern? What the hell are you guys still doing out here? Get inside!" John B barked, hauling Sky to her feet.

Sky, unimpressed, retorted as she was ushered inside, "Look who's talking, big bro. Did you seriously try to surf in this mess?" Behind them, JJ, barely awake, stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the pull-out couch.

John B paused, eyeing his best friend's form. "What happened to him?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Sky, smirking, replied as she headed to her room, "Dad's Highland Park. Turns out our Bandolero over there isn't as seasoned a drinker as he likes to claim." She paused at her door, glancing back at John B. "Good night."

"Night," he responded, his smile lingering as he made his way to his own room.

#Outer Banks #JJ x OC #JJ Maybank #John B Routledge #Outer Banks x OC #Outer Banks x Reader #OBX #OBX x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #Well I really really love the character JJ Maybank

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