#au blue vodka

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[wild-jackalope]

First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.”

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.

[cherryredlove]

☆ eiffel tower ☆

Modern! au Cregan Stark x reader x Jacaerys Velaryon SMUT

Includes Cregan x Jacaerys smut

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Baela and Rhaena always host the hottest parties of the summer. Invitied alongside your best friend Helaena, you meet two handsome men who seem equally interested in you as you are in them.

Word Count: 2.5k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, threesome, p in v, oral, eiffel towering, cum eating, alcohol consumption, cigarettes

also just imagine cregan in the pics has dark hair ahah

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The hot July night is thick with the mingled sounds of the party—a seamless mix of bass-heavy music, laughter, and shouts cutting the air. You feel the vibrations through the floor as you push your way through the crowded living room of Rhaena and Baela’s apartment. They live in a swanky flat in the city centre of King's Landing. It's their birthday, and, as usual, they’ve gone all out. Neon lights bounce off the walls, casting a colourful glow that makes everything feel both surreal and electrifying.

You'd worn your favourite sexy black top and bootcut jeans, making your ass look fantastic, as your flatmate Dyana had so kindly informed you. Bangles jingling, you make your way toward the makeshift bar in the corner, your eyes scanning the throngs of people dancing and talking, searching for a familiar face. Finally, you spot her—Helaena, your best friend, is lounging on a couch, deep in conversation with a couple of guys from her art class, while sipping a bottle of Asshai beer. She waves at you enthusiastically, a smile stretching across her face.

“Hey, you made it!” Helaena shouts over the music, wrapping you in a quick hug. She smells like lavender and vodka, wearing a blue skater dress, a familiar and comforting combination. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. You lean in closer. “This place is insane.”

Helaena laughs, nodding in agreement. “You should go say hi to Rhaena and Baela later. They’re out on the balcony, holding court as usual.”

As you nod, you can’t help but feel a little out of place, surrounded by people who seem to know exactly where they fit in this chaotic scene. You were a bit of a party animal too with Helaena, but the party here was madness. You grab a drink from the bar—something pink and fruity that burns just enough to remind you of its potency—and take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside.

You seek out Baela and Rhaena. Both of them look divine in gold shimmery tops. They scream a little with excitement when you see them and hand some sourz shots for the three of you to do together.

After, you’ve been chatting with Helaena for a while, legs crossing over eachothers as you lounge on some chairs, when your attention is caught by two guys approaching. Even in the dim light, they stand out: one tall and dark-haired with broad shoulders, the other with brown curls, high cheekbones, and a rougish smile. They're both stunning in that unfairly effortlessly cool way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Hel,” the first one says with an easy smile. His eyes flick to you, holding your gaze a moment longer than polite. “Who’s your friend?”

Helaena grins, ever the mischievous meddler. “This is Y/N,” she says, gesturing toward you. “Y/N, meet Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon. They’re Baela’s best mates from uni. You guys both study politics and history with her, right?"

Cregan gives you a nod, his smile widening into something warmer, while Jacaerys offers you his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

The conversation flows easily, the four of you finding common ground in shared interests and mutual acquaintances. Cregan regales you all about his recent backpacking trip through the Highlands, the beautiful scenery and his close scrapes with the law, while Jacaerys leans closer, drawing you into a discussion about your favorite bars and places in King's Landing. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the tension you carried into the party slowly melting away.

As the night deepens and Helaena ends up sneaking off with a mysterious girl named Sara who Cregan knows, the three of you drift outside to the balcony, the cool air a welcome relief from the heat inside. You lean against the railing, the city sprawled out before you while Cregan sparks up a cigarette for you. Below, the streetlights flicker like stars, the hum of traffic a distant lullaby.

“So, what do you think of the party?” Cregan asks, his voice low and inviting.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, taking a sip of your drink that Jace had grabbed for you, a Starfall Screwdriver. “You two must be close with Rhaena and Baela.”

“Yeah, we’ve known them forever,” Jacaerys replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. His gaze is steady, intent. “They throw the best parties.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of their attention settle over you like a physical presence. There’s something about the way they look at you—like they’re seeing you, really seeing you—and it makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain. You aren't blind to their eyes and where they're looking.

“So, Y/N,” Cregan begins, a playful glint in his eye. His arm rests on your shoulder after taking a drag. “What’s your deal? You seeing anyone?”

The question catches you off guard, your mind scrambling for a response. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. The truth is, your love life has been a series of near misses and almosts, leaving you jaded at a young age.

“Not really,” you finally reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve been kind of focused on other things lately.”

Jacaerys leans closer, his expression thoughtful. “Like what?” His hand brushes your thigh, and you clench slightly. Cregan smirks, and Jace takes a long drink of his beer.

“Like work, mostly,” you say with a shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny. “And, you know, just figuring things out.”

Cregan exchanges a glance with Jacaerys, something unspoken passing between them. You feel a twinge of curiosity, wondering what they’re thinking.

“What about you two?” you ask, shifting the focus away from yourself. “Any girlfriends I should be worried about?”

Jacaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, we’re both single. We're too busy having fun, I guess.”

“Though we do have something in mind tonight,” Cregan adds, his tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?” Jace looks amused at your obliviousness.

Cregan and Jacaerys exchange another look, this one filled with a kind of mischievous energy that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You have the distinct feeling that whatever they’re about to say will lead to a very interesting night.

“Well,” Jacaerys says slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, “we were actually wondering if you’d be interested in something…a little different tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat, the possibilities flashing through your mind. You find yourself leaning in, caught in their magnetic pull.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s smile is all charm and challenge. “A threesome,” he says simply. “You, me, and Jace.”

You blink, your mind momentarily short-circuiting at the proposition. Of all the things you’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. And yet, the idea sends a thrill coursing through you, igniting something bold and adventurous that you didn’t quite realize was there.

“I—” You start, then pause, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Jacaerys steps closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm, inviting shadow. “No pressure,” he says, his voice gentle but edged with excitement. “But we think you’re amazing. And we’d love to spend the night making you feel that way.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the heat between you three palpable and undeniable. You consider their offer. They're both hot, both your type, and they both fancy you. The decision weighs on your mind, and yet, somewhere beneath the surface, you know exactly what you want.

Taking a deep breath, you meet their expectant gazes, a slow smile spreading across your lips. You down your drink. “Alright,” you say, your heart racing with anticipation. “Let’s do it.” They both smile, and their grip on you becomes a tad tighter.

“Great,” Cregan says. “How about we head back to ours? We live in a flat just a couple of minutes away.”

You nod, feeling a heady mix of nerves and thrill. As you follow them through the party, weaving through the throngs of people and neon-lit haze, you feel your heart and pussy begin to thrum.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The ride to their apartment is a blur of laughter and anticipation, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars. You sit between them in the backseat of the cab, your legs brushing against theirs, the proximity sending shivers up your spine. Cregan brushes your neck lightly with his knuckles, and you tense when Jace's hands move upwards from your knee to your inner thigh. Feeling both of their mouths so close to you, their hot breath and their longing, heated gazes makes your pussy clench, excited.

When you finally arrive, the apartment is everything you imagined—a stylish blend of modern and cosy, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. As soon as the door closes behind you, Jacaerys presses you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s all fire and passion. You melt into him, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and keeping you upright.

Cregan’s hands find your waist, pulling you from the wall and sandwiching himself behind you, his touch firm and grounding as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness press into your ass from behind. You kick off your shoes and let Cregan pull your jeans down.

You nod, your breath hitching as Jacaerys trails kisses down your neck, his hands deftly unzipping his jeans. “More than alright,” you manage to say, the words a breathless promise. Jace rubs your thighs with his heavy hands and Cregan gropes your tits, pulling his shirt over his head.

You each undress, hands reaching out when not removing clothes to grasp at each other and kiss hotly, all tongues. You're not sure who you're kissing or who's kneading your ass when they guide you toward the bedroom.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, Jace turns to Cregan and kisses him, Cregan moaning lightly at the touch. Your pussy explodes ablaze at the sight, whimpering as the pair advance on you like wolves.

Cregan yanks your legs towards him, opening them and sighing at the sight.

"Oh, Jace, look at her," he smirks. "Already soaking wet and we haven't even started."

Jacaerys laughs lightly, kneeling besides your body as Cregan swipes a finger through your pussy slick. That draws a hot moan from your parted lips.

"Will you be good and let Cregan look after you?" Jacaerys asks, your eyes glued to his hardened cock that brushes against your tits as he leans down. You nod, moaning as he kisses you, and places your hand on his cock to stroke it.

Cregan takes his cue and sinks his mouth down onto your heat. You whimper loudly as he softly licks up your slick and begins sucking lightly on your aching clit. Encouraged by your reaction, he eats your pussy more fervently, devouring any juices and engufling your labia in his hot mouth.

Jace moans as you stroke his cock, Cregan watching the sight from between your legs. You reach down with your other hand to grasp Cregan's dark hair, pulling slightly. His eyes roll back and you notice his hand is between his legs, jerking his huge cock at the sight of you and Jace.

It's too much for you. You feel like you'll explode. Jacaerys grabs your tits and tweaks your tender nipples, and you moan, arching your back and feeling the start of an orgasm creep up on you.

"Come on Princess," Jace gasps. "Cum for us." He spills a thick white rope of cum over your tits. Cregan, eyes wide, eats your pussy with such vigour that he yanks an orgasm from you, and you howl as you cum. He jerks himself as he cums on your thighs.

Panting, you watch as Cregan approaches Jace. You would have expected yourself to be satisfied by now, but watching Jace lick the cum off himself and Cregan inflames your pussy once more. You wobble upwards, kneeling on the floor and engulfing Jace's cock with your mouth as you jerk Cregan's cock. The pair moan into eachothers mouths at the touch.

Leaning down, Cregan pulls you gently by the hair onto all fours. Your eyes widen as you realise what he means. Your mouth opens involuntarily as he makes you suck his fingers, chuckling to himself.

"You reckon she's ready?" Jace asks him. Cregan nods, eyes dark and glinting.

"Oh yes, her pussy's a mess. Look at how good she is, sucking my fingers," he removes them, smirking as you whine. "Don't worry girl, you'll be able to suck all you want."

He nudges his cock by your lips, and you swallow it whole. He begins thrusting lightly, moaning heavily at how good your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

You startle when you feel Jacaerys' hard cock press against your pussy lips, gently easing inside as your eyes roll back. You feel so full as he settles deep inside you.

Jace begins thrusting against you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that very few can reach whilst Cregan uses your hair to push you deeper onto his cock. Breathing through your nose, you sink down until his cock is deep in your throat, making a strangled moan come from his lips. You can feel the hot licks of pleasure build again inside as Jace rubs your clit as he pummels your pussy and gives you a healthy slap on your ass, watching it shake. His hands grab your hips and squeeze, leaving bruises that will spark some intense memories later.

Cregan huffs and you can tell he's close to finishing, so you swallow hard as his cock hits your throat again. He cries out and you feel ropes of salty cum filling up your mouth and throat.

You climax at the feeling, Jace's fingers carrying you over the edge as he pulls out and cums across your back. Your pussy flutters as you cum hard, collapsing on the floor as the two men pant and join you.

All three of you lie there, softly breathing and exchanging sweet kisses and looks. Cregan stands first, hauling you up to the bathroom to wipe you down whilst Jace grabs you some water each.

Sandwiched between them in bed again, you feel yourself drift off to sleep as Cregan and Jace hold you tight. You can only hope the next time with the pair will be even better.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: hope yall enjoyed that. i definitely prefer writing modern aus for some reason. any requests send them in, lmk if you want more like this!

[sugudoe]

ᥫ᭡ . ֺ FUCK IT, GUESS WE BOTH AIN'T SHIT.ᐟ

⠀ ╰ 𝐟𝐰𝐛!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

. ֺ﹢ cw: smut ╱ modern!au ╱ no protection ╱ reader has a past with toji and geto ╱ satoru unlocks a new kink, breading. ╱ brat!reader ╱ jealous!gojo ╱ possessive!gojo ╱ friends with benefits ╱ alcohol ╱ fingering ╱ minors dni. ╱ pussy drunk!gojo might need to settle down for you.

. ֺ﹢ a. n: am i slowly becoming a smut acc? who knows. @emilyywhyy 2.5k words.

neon lights have always complimented gojo’s beauty. unfortunately, the bastard knew that. under the green and blue tones, with his black shirt buttoned down, a red cup with beer decorating his hand while the other kept sliding over a random girl’s body. still, his eyes could only focus on you. as if begging for your attention.

it’s common knowledge that he wants and need you to act on it, to push the girl away and take him somewhere else. the thing is — he will soon learn — two can play this game.

when you turn around, walking away in the mini strapless black dress that he bought, your last vision of him is the smirk being replaced by annoyance. like a predator, you hunt the house halls before coming to the kitchen, where he can have the perfect view of your animalistic movements.

you pass your hands on suguru’s back, he stares at you over his shoulder, a smile that says it all — he knows what you want, what you are there for. not many parties ago, you managed this goal, and the consequence was a large bruise on your ass.

" not this time, lovely. he will kill me. " geto whisper too close to your ears, he holds your waist for steadiness, laughing when he catch you pouting. " go for toji, he doesn’t give a fuck about satoru. "

following suguru’s gaze, you see the strong and large back of fushiguro toji facing you, while he grabs vodka and gin, mixing it like a deadly poison. in a trance, you move his way, hearing your friend laughing behind you. you stop by toji’s side, staring at his mixing with wonder, while sensing many eyes on your back — specially gojo’s.

" watchu doin’? " toji snorts at your question, handling you his cup before deciding against it, he slaps your waiting hands away and bring the cup to your lips. you take a gulp out of the venom, staring at him with doe eyes, before moving your head away. " that’s awful, toji! "

" that’s a party drink, not those fruity things you keep drinking… " he stares at something behind, sipping his cup like it’s water before smiling, back at you. " … or beer. "

he means gojo, of course. satoru doesn’t like any alcohol, but he keeps sipping on beer to seem normal, you could guess. deciding to not indulge in toji’s antics, instead grabbing his cup and sipping on it again. doing your best but failing to not make a face.

" what are you here for, doll? " toji leans on the counter, grabbing your hips to pull you closer. " trying to make a show for your little boyfriend? "

" maybe… " ignoring the title he gave satoru, you move your arms to his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles under his shirt. " although, i would not mind having you this night. " one of your hands move down, scrapping his neck and chest.

toji laughs, drowning his drink in three gulps, he throws the cup somewhere before grabbing your waist and putting you on the counter. legs open for him to settle between them, he gives you no more words to say before roughly kissing you. tasting the alcohol on his tongue like a poison you would willingly take, hands moving to pull his short black hair, you almost forgets your plan for the night.

good thing is gojo satoru does not forgot his.

the party goes silent, making toji groans while separating himself from you. you both stare behind, where gojo is leaning on the opposite counter, crossed arms with veins popping.

" you’re fucked. " toji pecks your lips, departing himself from you and grabbing the nearest bottle of whiskey he can find, then he vanishes.

gojo replace his position in between your tights before you can even close your legs. his strong hands goes straight to your hips, already hurting a bit. oh, you really are fucked.

" what the fuck was that? ” he asks when everyone else goes back to their drunk lives. " you were almost fucking each-other on my counter, my party. " he is trying to say that you are his as well.

" that’s none of your business, gojo. " you push him away, getting off the counter and walking to the second floor. he follows you, of course.

you tried to block his entrance from his bedroom, but gojo has always been stronger, specially when he is mad. he goes inside and sighs at you, sitting on his bed and staring at the window.

" why the fuck you keep kissing my friends, mhm? " he locks the door, then moves to be in front of you. his long fingers on your chin obliging you to stare at him. " c’mon, baby. talk to me. "

" why do you care, gojo? " his grip grows tighter, he doesn’t like when you call him that. " it’s not like you weren’t doing the same, before me might i add. " you slap his hand but he puts the other on the same place right away.

" it’s different, i didn’t kissed her. "

" you were about to, don’t lie to me. " grabbing his arm, you push him to fall on the bed, immediately strapping him. " we shouldn’t care about that anyway. " you start to unbuckle his pants, while satoru stares at you confused. " we’re just friends, right? "

" friends don’t fuck each-other. " he counterparts.

" some do — we do. " he groans at your statement. " stop whining, satoru, you wanted this, remember? something along the lines of being too young to settle down. "

" that’s ‘cause i’m a dick, princess. i keep making terrible choices, actually. " his hand move to rise the dress up to your waist. " you’re so hot, why can’t i have you only for myself? "

" you can. " moving closer, you avoid his lips by kissing his neck multiple times. " if you became only mine. "

" can’t do, princess. y’know we won’t work like that. "

" you’re right, baby. we both ain’t shit. " you laugh, deciding to spare you both from this misery and kissing him deeply.

instinctively, gojo responds to the kiss right away, and his largue hands move to your hips. he dictate your movements over his bulge, gasping with the feeling of your clothed pussy on top of him. when you move your lips to his neck again, gojo decides it’s the perfect time to reprimand your actions early. not caring that he was basically doing the same, it was never a secret how hypocrite he could be.

taking you by surprise, gojo shifts both of your positions quickly, somehow you end up on all fours, hands behind your head pressing it to the cushion. your protests turn into a moan, when his other hand starts to massage your pussy over the red lacy, also something he bought for you.

" i bought all of this for you, even the fucking jewelry and shoes, and you were going to let toji see it all? " he asks while moving the underwear aside, penetrating one… two.. three of his long fingers.

" actually, geto was my first choice, but… argh! " a hard slap on your ass cut off your little unnecessary rambling, you tried to hide your face and victorious smile on the sheets, but satoru held your hair in a fist, pushing you towards him, making his fingers go more deeper in you, ‘till his knuckles.

with a irritated face, satoru starts to move it upwards, curling them perfectly to that spot only he can reach. violently and soo good, you can feel the build up of an release he won’t let you have anytime soon.

" shut the fuck up, yn — this is where you’re weak, right? " he growls as his fingers continue to move fast inside you, who desperately tries to to follow his pacing. you need him inside you, the beating pulse of his cock and head reaching where he knows you’re more sensitive.

gojo’s hold on you vanished, you stared over your shoulder to see how entranced he was with your ass jiggling. he was so easy to distract, as much as he was to irritate.

" don’t worry, baby, i can fuck them, but i’ll always come back to you in the end. " you smirk and suppress a giggle by biting your lips when a second slap arrives after your statement.

gojo knows how amusing this all must be to you, he used to think the same, both of you using your terrible manners to have a more rough hookup. yet, now, for some fucking reason he doesn’t like any of it. you’re dressed for him — by him, in his house, his party. fuck, you are his.

" how ‘bout we try something different today, baby? " he raises your dress higher to your chest before ripping your underwear to shreds. your protests is hidden behind a moan when he slaps you again. " we should do it raw today. "

" what — why? " you’re not opposed to it, satoru senses you clenching his now slow pacing fingers.

" let’s have something of our own. "

" o-okay, baby. " you’re not scared, but a bit anxious, maybe. it’s your first time without protection, and it’s also a little dream you’ve had for a while, but only with gojo.

he smiles triumphantly, before removing his fingers and bringing it to your waiting lips — so well trained, he thinks. you suck on them like it’s his cock, slobbering over it with doe eyes on him. you’re begging for more, he knows it right away. cooing you with pets on your head, he goes to removing all of his clothes and helping you take off the dress. you try to lay on your back, but gojo hold on your hips stop you.

" no no, baby. i want you like this. " going back to the position of ass up and head down, you sigh impatient for him to go inside you.

" why are you taking so long? can’t get it up… mhmp! " your moan keeps going, just like satoru’s cock keeps parting your walls and penetrating your hot core. it’s a new feeling you both know will ruin everything — ain’t no way you’re going back to condoms after that.

he feels the same, your wrapping on him makes it all more sensitive now. with both hands on your hips, satoru knows he is bruising them with the strength to not lose control, but fuck, he knows it’s a battle to be lost with the way you whimper under him. you both are enjoying it way too much.

when gojo is all inside you, and both of your faces are red and gasping, he slowly moves his hand over your stomach, pressing onto something just inches under your bellybutton, that shakes you.

" can you feel it, baby? that’s me. " holy fuck.

he doesn’t wait for your response, with one of his hands on your back and the other on his bulge inside you, gojo starts his so long awaited thrusts. never one to be calm, they already have the bed shaking in mere seconds and you mumbling incoherent words. what satoru gets is you begging for more, for faster. and who the fuck is he if not the man to oblige to all your commands?

removing the only hand on your hips and bringing it to his bed frame, gojo uses it to have a balance and starts moving harder inside you, you scream desperate for it, glad that the party downstairs can’t hear you. his other hand won’t leave his budge alone, you thought, until you sense it going downwards to touch your clit.

" no-no, go..gojo! " it’s too much, but he doesn’t give a fuck. swiftly moving the bundle of nerves with his experienced fingers, in that way that makes your pussy grip nearly impossible to remove himself.

that’s exactly what he wants.

gojo keeps the thrusts mercifully, any beg you ask he shall comply right away. good thing is you’re not asking for him to slow down or stop, you’re as addicted to it as him, keeping the command of being tougher, harder, he knows if he moves away you will tear down him to pieces. both his hands go back to your hips, eyes addicted to seeing your exposed back and moving ass, gojo falls to another temptation of his.

the starts with small kisses on your shoulders, and soon, his wet tongue is sliding across you, leaving bite marks and purple hickeys evidently anywhere he can get. your messy brain can’t digest anything that is happening but the feeling of lust impregnating the room, so gojo takes his chances with marking you.

" ‘toru, argh! " you’re calling call him back to reality, he waits for you to say something but you’re too busy with your eyes closed and mouth hanging open. so cute, gojo thinks.

" you’re gonna cum, princess? " you nod with a gasp. " cum for me, baby, c’mon. "

following his words, gojo’s hands go back to your clitoris, instigating the orgasms faster. you keep moving towards him, meeting his thrusts halfway, and gojo starts to feel his own release coming, he swears on your ears. you both agreed to no condoms, but can he cum inside you, fill you up with himself?

he wants to ask, but you’re too occupied with reaching your own high. gojo closes his eyes, focused on making you cum and keeping himself away from doing the same, it’s a hard task with the way you wrap around him, as if trying to milk him dry, and your pretty moans of his nickname over and over, like it’s the only thing you can say in the world.

" toru, cum… in me! " you babble, moving your head so you can show him properly your begging eyes, full of fat tears. " please, please! "

" it’s okay, princess, i’ll do it. " he can sense how much more closer both of you became with this new information. " i’m going to get you so full, baby. "

always complying to his promises, gojo feels you starting to cum and follow right away, mixing both of your releases inside your hot walls, long moans being drawn from your throats, before you start to mumble and wiggle with him still inside you.

" don’t move, baby, got let it stay deep in you. " satoru’s voice is rough, as he brings you back to being filled of him, you both moan again. he lets you move to lay on your back, kissing your neck and nose while cuddling to your chest. " so pretty, so mine. "

" i’m not yours, toru. not until… " you sigh, caressing his hair. " … you’re mine. "

" oh, my baby, the moment i slide on your pussy i knew two things — no more condoms, and that i only want you. "

" we both ain’t shit, gojo. " you remark your words earlier, satoru snicker at that.

" tough luck, baby. you might not want to be mine, but i’m all yours. it’s just a question of time. " with that, he moves you both, him laying down and you on top of him. " bet that after you ride me, you are going to want to be miss gojo, right away. "

when he move his hips up, you slowly starts to believe him. you’re fucked, truly fucked.

﹙⠀ ᭡ ࣪˖ 🍋.⠀﹚ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰𝟯𝟬𝟬𝟳 ⠀─┈ ⭑⠀ ͏͏

[darylssunshine]

Ride a Cowboy

genre: almost smut but like technically not

non-apocalypse au

can be imagined as any era!

word count: 1.4k

summary: Daryl has fun with you on a bar date.

Glasses clinking and joyous conversation filled the air of the club while you eyed Daryl down his fourth shot of vodka, barely grimacing as it went down his throat.

“How can you do that? I've only had two shots and my mouth tastes literally disgusting right now.” You chuckled at the tolerance of your boyfriend, sipping your sweet tea to get the taste out of your mouth.

“Years of practice, sweetheart.” He retorted, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him and flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes.

Daryl had been wanting to take you on a date for a while, and it was his choice for the location this time. So, of course, you and him had ended up at a southern style club a couple miles into town. It was very old-fashioned, with all wooden furniture and brick walls, adorned with framed photos of the owners, along with iconic landmarks of the surrounding area. The lights, however, were colorful and energetic, flashing along with the beat of the music at times. The bar area took up half of the building, while the other half housed a mechanical bull that was currently inactive.

With your attire being black skinny jeans, a band tank, and a black cowboy hat you stole from Daryl, the regulars could tell that this wasn't your scene. Juxtaposed with Daryl's rugged dark red flannel that fit his biceps just right thrown over a v-neck and blue jeans, you two were a sight to see.

You were broken out of your thoughts by a man over by the bull with a microphone, his voice loud enough to be heard over Low blaring over the speakers. You snapped your head over to his direction, your boyfriend's head moving slightly slower than yours.

“Alright, y'all! Bessie over here is finally up ‘n runnin’ and ready for a ridin'! Any of you folks wanna give ‘er a ride? Show ‘er a good time?” The man in the beige cowboy hat gave a wink and a few women sitting at surrounding tables shouted and whistled.

“Oh my God, Dar, can we? Please??” You gasped, eyes gradually lighting up as you shook his bicep, signaling your excitement.

He chuckled in response. “(Y/N). Really? Ya wanna ride the bull?”

“Yeah it'll be fun!!”

A raised eyebrow was all you got in response.

“If you do it with me, I'll pay for your tab.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled lightly. He then suddenly downed his fifth shot and placed it down on the bar harshly. “Aight. Fuck it. Le’s go.”

You immediately beamed and jumped off your barstool and basically pulled Daryl off of his, stumbling slightly from inebriation and the sudden incoordination. Daryl could only kind of keep up with the pace of your speed walking.

“Us! Us! We will!” You shouted, dodging a few groups of casually dancing club goers.

“Oh, we've got some volunteers!” A few patrons that were paying attention whooped and applauded your bravery. “Step right up!” He announced, motioning to an opening in the inflatable, cushiony material that surrounded the bull to avoid injury. “You better hold on, little lady.” the announcer said quietly to you, followed by a wink. You smiled and rolled your eyes while walking across the inflatable floor to the bull.

The bull was slightly elevated, so you were having trouble mounting it, and Daryl could tell. He let you try and struggle for a few moments before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bull, the sudden gesture causing you to giggle and grip one of the bulls ears for balance. You felt the bull jostle and then settle, signaling that Daryl had hopped on behind you. You blushed at the feeling of his hands holding your hips.

“Y’all ready?!” The announcer shouted, talking to you and Daryl, but also everyone else in the bar, including the small crowd that surrounded the bull. You grinned and gave a thumbs up in the announcer's direction. “Alright! Hold on, you two!”

The bull then whirred to life and rose a couple inches higher than it already was. You kept both hands secured to it’s ears in front of you, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Daryl had agreed to go on with you.

Then, it began to move.

Startled, you gasped and moved your hands to the handle in front of you for more balance. You slowly got used to the up and down diagonal movement, even taking one of your hands off the handle to raise it above your head, only to return it a couple seconds on a particularly deep downward slope. Meanwhile, Daryl was calm, barely reacting to the movement at all, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly planted on your waist to ensure your security. He softly chuckled in your ear at your inexperience.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure ya don’t fall off.”

You felt your blush grow impossibly bigger. What does that mean?

He started by stealing back his hat, placing it on his head and returning his hand to your shoulder and squeezing it. His hand then snaked to your throat, engulfing it with his large fingers and making your head lean back. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Dar we’re… we’re in public.”

He bit your ear lobe in retaliation. “Ya think I care?” Your airflow was then slightly restricted, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Yeah. Ya like it, ya dirty little slut.”

He then took a hold of your hair and pulled, continuing to leave your neck exposed, and cockily put the other hand in the air. Your eyes had closed and your hands had migrated to his knees.

The patrons surrounding the bull cheered and whooped at Daryl’s action, a few women squealing.

“Everyone's gonna know who ya belong to.”

Your head was then tugged to the side and his lips were hungrily latched to your neck, sucking hard and adding a good amount of teeth so that when he pulled away, there was a decent sized purple mark left in its wake, growing deeper by the minute. You let a small moan escape your lips and Daryl huffed.

He then had an idea.

The brunette let you and the crowd calm down a bit, riding the bucking bronco how it was intended. He waited until the bull moved diagonally downward, then he strategically flung himself to the front of the bull and moved his legs on top of yours, earning another cheer from the crowd. You, on the other hand, were absolutely stunned, staring at him with your mouth agape. Your heart was going a million miles a minute, and he could tell. He loved it.

“Wha’d I say, darlin’? Years of practice.”

The sporadic thrusts of the bull now had a new intensity to them, Daryl’s bulge clearly being felt through your thin jeans. You steadied yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders and looking at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. Daryl smirked, leaned down to your ear, and grumbled, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Thought ya was worried ‘bout bein’ in public.” He bit your cartilage for extra measure and continued to smirk down at you, proud of the needy little fuck doll his actions have created.

Daryl’s lustful gaze along with the thrusts of the bull and the cheers of the bull were all too much to handle, so you shamelessly latched your lips with his with intensity, something that he gladly returned. Both of you barely even registered the roar of the crowd while your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands firmly held your torso.

Right after Daryl had drunkenly and fervently introduced tongue into the mix and was already winning the battle of dominance, an especially quick jolt of the bull had you falling off the side. You tried to stabilize yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders again, but that just caused him to fall as well, ironically, right on top of you.

You both gazed at each other longingly for a few moments before finally registering your surroundings. He stood up first and held out a hand to help you stand as well. The crowd was wild, some of them waving their cowboy hats in the air in excitement. Daryl snicked. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders and used his other hand to take his hat off and return it to your head. Almost like he was showing off a shiny gold trophy that he had just won for his performance.

The announcer beamed. “Holy shit! We haven’t seen that level of ridin’ in a while, literally.”

Daryl looked over at you and winked.

You and him will definitely be returning soon.

[mononijikayu]

jujutsu kaisen SLIDE

further and beyond

Parting from the ring was the most painful part of all of this; His beloved lover had gifted it to him during a moment of unexpected revelation. All those happy years, his darling had out of the blue blurted their love for him. The scarlet blush upon their cheeks, the bright beam of love echoing in shaking eyes. Winter snow fell all around them. Satoru was beyond surprised, his clutches were all that was keeping him still and balanced. They never even dated before. Yet, they knelt beside him with all their might in their heart and soul, defying convention to be honest about love.

kayu's current favorite ― love is the law, religion is taught

playground guide

💭stand alone winds (stories with no connections)

🪻lilac swing (various stories connected to each other)

🪷flowering starts (series stand alones and or AUs)

MISCELLANEOUS

↳ loving is caring - jjk men x reader

↳ buono san valentino; 2024

↳ kayu's playlist, side 400;

↳ kayu's playilist, side 700;

↳ kayu's playlist, side 800;

↳ kayu's playlist, side 900;

↳ kayu's playlist - side 1000;

↳ kayu's playlist — side 1500;

↳ kayu's playlist — side 2000;

↳ kinktober 2024 — kayu's version.

GOJO SATORU

↳ u s and t h e m ― gojo satoru. 🪻

↳ time after time ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ unholy ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ pied piper — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ tears are getting sober ― gojo satoru.🪻

↳ ten minutes— gojo satoru. 💭

↳ no more sad song for my broken heart ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ don’t take that name away (the one only you know) — gojo satoru.🪷

↳ strip poker — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ triassic love song — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ city of loving angels — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ house of cards — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ live updates — gojo satoru. 💭

RYOMEN SUKUNA

↳ devil by the window ― ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ animals ― ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ ashes of love ― ryomen sukuna. 🪻

↳ i wanna be your slave — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ pretending as always — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ the other woman — ryomen sukuna.🪻

↳ map of the soul — ryomen sukuna. 🪻

↳ gum — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ hey lover! — ryomen sukuna. 🪻

GETO SUGURU

↳ to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento. 🪷

↳ love wins all ━ geto suguru. 🪷

↳ logic≠love ― geto suguru. 🪷

↳ ghost of you ― geto suguru. 🪻

↳ nightingale — geto suguru. 💭

↳ quiet eyes — geto suguru. 💭

↳ of vodka, beers and regrets — geto suguru. 💭

↳ ashes — geto suguru.💭

↳ love of my life — geto suguru 💭

↳ casual — geto suguru. 💭

↳ chasing heaven — geto suguru. 💭

↳ come back to me — geto suguru. 💭

↳ no. 1 party anthem — geto suguru. 💭

NANAMI KENTO

↳ what a wonderful world ― nanami kento. 🪻

↳ seesaw game ― nanami kento. 🪷

↳ lay your love on me — nanami kento. 💭

↳ bed chem — nanami kento. 💭

↳ wife — nanami kento. 🪻

ITADORI YUJI

↳ mr. kupido ― itadori yuji. 🪻

↳ love countdown ― itadori yuji. 💭

↳ ligaya — itadori yuuji.💭

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

↳ dm ― fushiguro megumi. 🪻

↳ love me back ― fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ from the start — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ love me anyway — fushiguro megumi.💭

↳ ikaw lang — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ blanket kick — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ boy, i, boy, i, boy, i know i know you got the feels — fushiguro megumi.

💭

↳ apt — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ and there was something 'bout you (that now I can't remember) — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

IEIRI SHOKO

↳ let you break my heart again ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

↳ magnetic ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

↳ good luck, babe ! ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

↳ red wine supernova — ieiri shoko. 🪻

CHOSO KAMO

↳ i wish ― choso kamo. 💭

↳ puddin' pop — choso kamo. 💭

FUSHIGURO TOJI

↳ pasilyo — fushiguro toji. 💭

↳ treasure in the sea — fushiguro toji. 💭

↳ 1-800-hot-n-fun — fushiguro toji. 💭

↳ think about things — fushiguro toji. 🪻

↳ "babe the sun dress" — fushiguro toji. 💭

[houseofhyde]

“aemond, i’m out shopping…”

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. ...but you’re under aegon and he’s not stopping. ( read part one here ) warnings. modern au, best friend's brother!aegon, drummer!aegon, fuckbuddy!aegon, references to alcohol & drug usage, smut ( aegon is giving switch vibes ngl, f oral, fingering, m masturbation, pussy pronouns bc aegon straight up talks to it like it's a sentient being independent of the reader, exhibitionism, hair pulling, sweat kink?, spit as lubrication, cum tasting, one single slap, mentions of sex toys & tribute pictures, dubcon but only bc the reader protests even though she doesn't mean it ) word count. 5.2k hyde’s input. my modus operandi is making a silly smut fic ( that involves aegon or aemond fucking around with their brother's love interest ) and then ( quite some time later ) writing a part 2 that accidentally trips and falls into a whole load of plot that simply must be further explored, and then oh no! a series is born! the horrors! read on ao3.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached. 

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts. 

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track. 

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him. 

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so. 

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure. 

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life. 

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother. 

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

so, how are we feeling? do we want more of these two weirdos ( affectionate )?

i stopped doing taglists a while back bc i lowkey always forget about them but @481theralicat dmed me a while ago asking to be tagged if i ever wrote a second part to drummer!aegon and that message was partially what gave me the motivation to finish part 2, so i feel like the least i can do it tag them. i hope you enjoyed it & the wait was worth it <3

[mistress-violence]

Prompt: Dare from @into-the-jeggyverse (August 22)

Word count: 359 words

Pairing: Jegulus (highschool modern AU)

⚠️ Warnings: slightly suggestion of minors drinking

It was supposed to be just a dare. An innocent joke thrown by Peter to see Sirius angry. James regretted falling into that sneaky rat's trap.

He occasionally recalled that night, during the spring ball, when they had slipped a bottle of vodka into Sirius's flashy jacket and poured it all into the lemonade bowl. He still remembers the laughter and dancing and the infamous game they had started playing. He also remembers Peter's tipsy smile as he dared him to go and ask Regulus for a dance. Regulus Black, the younger brother of his best friend, known throughout the institution not only for his perfect, Greek statue face, but also for the stone coldness he presented in front of everyone. James knew that the Black boy would send him back to his friends with his tail between his legs, and then Sirius would make Peter jump into the fountain in front of the school.

What no one, including James Potter, expected was for Regulus to actually accept the invitation. He could have apologized and confessed that it was just a joke, instead James took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Yes, he still felt those dull sensations in him. "A Letter to Elise" by The Cure in the background, the blue lights streaming through the white and black balloons on the ceiling and the silver eyes of Regulus Black. His eyes were sharp, dark and almost penetrating. He had realized at that moment it had been a mistake and he had fallen into the trap.

Nine months had passed since then, and James continued to let himself be drawn into empty classrooms and cramped closets. Sometimes it was the chemistry lab, other times the warehouse behind the gym. On this specific day, it happened to be the janitor's closet. It was dark and smelled like chemicals, but he could see Regulus' eyes so clearly, glinting in the dim light of the bulb.

"Kiss me" said Regulus, in that tone that sent shivers down James' body. "I dare you".

What was supposed to be a joke had turned into the most wonderful mistake James had ever made.

[literaryslapshot]

OH, HERE WE GO AGAIN ⎯ Nathan MacKinnon

y/n is tired of nate crashing her parties, nate is tired of her making dumb decisions, especially with a killer on the loose.

dirty cop!nate x fem!reader

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, rough sex, spitting, absolute raunchy shit), cuss words, college parties, i would consider this a dark fic so take that as you wish, talk of murder and serial killers, drug deals.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: y'all know me, always makin up new au's. but this time i get to use my (almost) degree. read with caution because i really got down and dirty with this one, but please enjoy.

🎧⎯ listen to "my boy only breaks his favorite toys", "i can fix him (no really i can)" by taylor swift, "THE GREATEST" by billie eilish

she could sense his presence before he even walked into the house. she was aware of the chances of running into him when she went out that he would show up, especially when she went to a house party or a bar on the weekends. he always seemed to show up right when things started to get sticky, she could never figure out why.

she saw the flashing blue and red lights, heard forceful bangs on the door. she chugged the remaining alcohol before getting caught by officer mackinnon once again. people started to scramble, running out to the backyard and jumping the fence, hiding in closets or finding an exit before they got caught with things they should have in hand. y/n was clear, but she knew what was in store whenever nathan showed up.

"alright, show's up! everybody out!" y/n heard his booming voice as she stood in the kitchen talking to her friends. a couple of her friends ditched before officers barged in, one more stayed behind. one that nate didn't like.

"officers! what's the issue?" one of the frat boys approached nate, trying to act like the walls weren't shaking from the bass and the smell of vodka and weed wasn't leaking into the streets. "we're just trying to have fun." nate rolls his eyes and shoves past the boy, letting the other officers deal with him. he shoves people out of the way, yanking beer bottles out of hands and tugging drug baggies out of shirt pockets. then he spots you in the kitchen, a sinister smirk on his lips.

"well well, thought i told you to stay away from these things?" he strides toward her grabbing her hand aggressively, pulling her toward the door. he gave her friend a nasty look up and down, muttering something about how much of a bitch she is.

"whatever do you mean officer? can't a simple college girl enjoy a party on the weekends?" y/n uses a very sweet but annoying tone while talking to him, blowing a kiss to one of the boys as she makes her way out. that just makes him pull on your hands harder, making her strain.

"you're in your last semester of grad school and you work a full time job, hardly consider you a college girl, sweetie." nate bites back, pushing you down on the hood of his matte black squad car, the one he usually uses for undercover work. he pats you down, his hands getting dangerously close to some of his favorite areas on you. but he's not gonna do that in public, at least. sometimes he has manners. he tells you to lean against his car while he gets a breathalyzer, opening the package. he holds it up to your lips, "blow."

"take me on a date first nathan," you wrap your lips around the device and hold steady eye contact with him, blowing out strongly for five seconds. he takes it out and waits for the results.

"hmm, past the legal limit." he shakes his head.

"i hold my liquor real well officer."

nate manhandles her into the backseat of his car, slamming the door in her face. getting in the front seat he drives the familiar route to her house where she gets more intoxicated by the second with the alcohol just circling her system. he helps y/n into her own house, unlocking the door (he hopes she wouldn't notice that he had his own on his keychain) and into her bedroom. she's a giggling, fidgety mess as he tries to help her get dressed into pajamas at least.

"how come you're always ruining my parties, nathan." she spits at him, sitting up in bed lazily wiping her makeup off with a rag he gave her.

"i'm not ruining anything, i'm trying to keep you safe. how many times do i have to tell you i don't like you going to those things, the last thing i need is you getting roofied and i find you on a bathroom floor with your fuckin panties at your knees." he breathes after his rant; standing tall with his chest full of air, his voice getting louder and louder with every other word. "and quit calling me nathan." he failed to realize that he actually struck a nerve with her as he saw tears well up in her eyes.

she crossed her arms over her chest, turning the bedside lamp off signaling it was time for him to leave. he sighed, trying to reach down and make it up by giving her a kiss on the forehead. she swerved out of the way, pulling the quilt up over her shoulders and staring at the wall across from her.

-

nate and y/n have a strange relationship. they've known each other for so long, since they can remember. nate had a tougher upbringing than she did, which drove him into a tough and rugged job like the police force. when she got accepted into university he was graduating the academy faster than expected from his peers.

he had an odd attachment to her, and he refused to admit to anyone that he was in love with her. he'd been in love since they kissed under the bleachers in seventh grade when she got his gum stuck in her braces. he stays in love with her, that's why in his mind he makes up valid excuses to him stalking her every move around town when he's on duty. especially when he's on his undercover watch.

she's yet to figure out how he comes in clutch so quick, and he's thankful for that. he doesn't have an explanation made up in his head yet when she does figure it out.

nate stays watch outside of her house until his shift is over, listening to radar and watching the time go by. he really doesn't know what he would do if he found her on some bathroom floor. he would probably black out and rip every man apart limb to limb until he found the dick who did it, and only then would he lose complete control. definitely lose his badge and his gun.

his shift ends and he pulls away, driving the fifteen minutes across town to his own place for the night. he dreams about her each and every night, some good and some bad. one time he dreamt about asking her to be his to show off, and she said no. it's a deep fear of his, truly, her saying no; because he really wants to ask her at least once...maybe to the movies keep it simple?

but he never ends up making a decision. he keeps things the way they are for now, nate stalking her around town when he's on shift, stealing her away from frat parties, and pulling her over when she gets too close to the edge of town. the hold he has on her is addicting, like the worst type of drug he's encountered.

-

no more parties. you need to be more careful.

you're not my dad, i am a grown woman who does what she wants

she's not gonna do shit if she gets killed. there's been a few murders in the surrounding counties of college aged girls at parties, they took em out back and fucked em up.

how nice of you to look out for me.

i'm serious, no more. i don't care, i'll follow you around to every single party you even think of going to.

whatever, nathan.

-

"we got a lead on our target- pretty good lead, he's gonna be at some party on erskine street tonight." nathan sat in the team meeting with the other detectives around the table, the other undercover detective sitting next to him in street clothes also.

"we have reason to believe that he is either involved or the cause of the string of murders in the county. four college aged women have been killed in similar ways, but all four were found with their hair cut and their throats slit along with cut marks along their inner thighs."

nate tuned out a long time ago when they mentioned parties and college women. his mind went the worst way possible. what if is was her who was next? what if she was found in a ditch somewhere? what if she was going to be at this party tonight?

"hayes, you're gonna be at this party tonight-" his heart rate sky rocketed. he wasn't about to let someone else do this job.

"with all do respect sir- he doesn't look like a college aged kid. i'm the only person on this team who is close in age to a college kid, i have a better chance getting into this party than hayes." he gave a sly look over to his colleague, knowing he was right. it stunted his boss a little bit, surprised by his assertiveness.

"alright, you can go. you know what to do if you see him. you'll have on a wire, don't do something stupid." yeah, but he doesn't know what to do if she's there and he's there.

the meeting ends and he goes out to his car, sitting with the air conditioner lightly blowing on him. he thinks about texting her as a warning, but he knows that it would only freak her out. he thinks about going to her house and having an in person conversation, but he knows after how last weekend went she wouldn't welcome him in. nate can only hope she finally for once in her life takes his advice and doesn't come to this party.

-

nathan slips the guy at the door a hundred dollar bill, letting him in the party. he knows it isn't going to be easy, he's bigger and has a different look in his eye compared to all the other college boys in this frat house. he feels like he's still got it, though, as he walks through the house and every single girl is giving him the eyes he used to get his freshman year. it takes him back.

he turns it on immediately, allowing girls to flirt and run their hands up his body. he has to be careful not to drink, because if the target is here he can't arrest someone while under the influence; that's not how he wants to be on the news.

nate feels good in his dirty little groove he has going on, dancing with four different girls, kissing them and feeling their bodies with his calloused hands. but he feels her presence- no, he feels her eyes on him before anything else. he slowly turns around and she's giving him the worst look of his life. he feels caught, a deer in headlights, a kid stealing candy, a criminal caught in the act.

but his body acts before his mind does. shoving the girls off of him and making his way through the crowd, he follows after her. when she realized he was coming her way she bolted, setting her drink on a random surface, turning around and trying to get away from him. but he was too fast- he pulled her shirt and into a vacant room.

nate flipped the lights on and when he did she slapped the silly look off his face. but he couldn't do anything, he knew he deserved it. "you fucking dick!" she shouted, pushing him away from her. she continued to yell and shout profanities at him, wanting nate to feel the betrayal she felt.

but she took it too far when she shouted police officer. immediately he put one stiff arm on her chest and one hand covered her mouth, pushing her against the nearest wall. "shut up," he quietly spat, reaching to turn the lights off. he could still see her from the street light that was pouring in through the open window.

"i'm here because the guy we've been going after is going to be here tonight. that is the only fucking reason i'm even here-" she rolled her eyes and tried to move away, "he's killed four other women, your age and your body type, and he's one of the leaders in the drug trade 'round here. so i'd shut the fuck up and listen if i were you, babe."

he saw her eyes soften through the faint lighting and he knew he caught her attention. nathan felt her stiff muscles relax as she stood up straight against the wall, not trying to fight with him anymore. he removes his arm and hand, but he doesn't step away from her quite yet. "i didn't know you were like, a detective. thought you just wrote tickets."

"there's a lot you don't know about me, y/n." he opens his phone to see a text from his partner who was staking out down the street. "he's here." he swear he heard her stop breathing for a few seconds when the words slipped out of his mouth.

there is a killer, a drug leader, a criminal in this house.

nate sensed her anxiety and placed his large hand on her cheek, "stay here until i come get you. i don't care if someone else comes in here do not leave this room until i come get you, understand?" she nodded her head.

he left the room and went downstairs, going to the backyard to grab a drink. he found a cold bottle of coke and took a sip, but as he opened it he saw the target. ten feet from him, was the man he and his unit had been hunting for the past month and a half. reminding himself he was wearing a wire he muttered the code into his chest before making his way over to the target.

"hey man," he gave the man a head nod as he slipped him a fake fifty dollar bill. the target chuckled, "you're new, haven't met you yet have i?"

"new in town, i'm a grad transfer, tryna make it through the first couple weeks y'know?" the target nodded his head. standing up he put his hands in his pocket. just as he did so, nate's backup team busted through the house shouting with their guns pointed, looking for the target. he heard the ruckus, looked at nate and took off toward the gate in the backyard trying to jump the fence.

nate grabbed him by his coat and threw him to the ground roughly, pulling his hands behind his back and slapping handcuffs on his wrist. "you're under arrest motherfucker," nate said through gritted teeth.

the other police officers were getting everyone out of the house and shutting the party down while nate and his colleague took the target to his car. "wait here, i'll be back in a minute." he knew that they still had to get a confession out of the target. his department was known for getting a one hundred percent confession rate, and those never came from the interrogation room. nate was known for getting those in the back of his police car.

he walked back into the house and into the room where y/n was still sitting on the bed. he let out a small sigh of relief. "i'll get someone to drive you home. i have to finish up here."

she couldn't decide on what emotion to feel quite yet. anger? she was extremely angry with nate. fear? she was stricken with fear from the moment nate told her the reason he was really there. worry? she was worried about what might have happened if something went wrong in the arrest.

there was some part of her that was thankful nate was safe, that he was okay, and nothing bad happened. she hated that.

he walked her out of the house and told his colleague to take her home. "i'll see you in an hour." nate watched her get into his partners car before getting into his own. except he got in the backseat next to the target, not the front.

nate grabbed his gun from his holster that was hiding under his thick sweatshirt, wiping it off with a small handkerchief he kept in his jeans pocket, and pressed it firmly against the targets thigh looking the man in the eyes. "you have once chance to confess, i suggest you do it now."

-

she hadn't moved off of her couch since nate's partner dropped her off. she sat there on the white polyester sofa, staring at the front door, listening to the light whistle of her air conditioner. she had been counting down the minutes of the hour when nate said he would be there.

y/n couldn't figure out why she was feeling the way she was feeling, but she couldn't exactly put a name to her feeling either. worried about nate, but also incredibly angry at him. her heart and her mind were at war with each other because deep deep down she knew she loved nate, but she hated him at the same time. hated how he was always so controlling, how he was in her business all the fucking time.

her thoughts were interrupted when she saw headlights pull into her driveway and could make out the outline of his car. he walked into her house and saw the saddened figure of her, sitting on the sofa.

but when he walked in, she felt angry again.

nate shut the door and locked it, taking off his sweatshirt and tossing it onto the chair that faced the windows. he was afraid to speak first, because he could sense a bomb was about to go off and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"tell me everything. i'm done with your lies, i'm done with your bullshit, i'm done nathan. tell me everything." he purses his lips and sits on the carpet across from her on the couch- he knows better than to sit next to her when she presses her hands against her lips.

"i put a tracker on your car." that's the first thing he says- if looks could kill he would already be buried by now. "i've been following you on my shifts, sometimes off my shifts too. every party, date, football game you went to i was there too."

"nath-"

"with a killer on the loose? no way i'm letting you out of my sight. i care too much about you. the last thing i want to find out is rolling up to another crime scene and see you dead."

"how long have you been following me?" she said, her tone fierce and her eyes cold.

"since i became an officer." she took in a deep breath, slowly standing up and running her hands into her hairline. she turns around and he starts to speak again, attempting to defend himself but she cuts him off.

"you've been following me for almost five fucking years?!" she screams, veins in her neck protruding and her hands balled into fists out of anger. nate bowed his head and pursed his lips together out of shame. she was bound to found out at one point. "nathan you're insane- you're a fucking psycho i can't even-"

"you could have been dead tonight! you could've been fucking raped and killed if i wasn't there tonight!" his rough voice cut you off, "i've kept you safe from so much. i've kept you from being drugged, kidnapped, and you've never thanked me once."

she rolled her eyes and tried to turn around but nate grabbed her arm fiercely, definitely leaving a bruise. "you don't realize all the shit i've done for you. all those girls he murdered looked exactly you: same hair color, eye color, height, age. you coulda been next you know that?"

she wanted to be angry. she wanted to be frustrated. she wanted to kick him out of her house and never let him back in ever again. block his number, throw away everything he left at her house and ditch his memories forever. "why then? if you're so mean to me, such a fucking helicopter of a man, why?"

"cause i love you! i'm fucking obsessed with you and you refuse to see that! you're so caught up with yourself and your own image that you never fucking even pay attention to me," nate had her pushed against the wall now, his hands firmly on her hip bones as his stare was melting.

"you're not good to me. i'm your favorite toy that you break all the damn time, you come running back to me,"

"'cause you're my favorite."

a moment of silence between the two drives nate crazy. he makes the first move that he knows she was dying for. every time they've had an argument it's led to them tossing underneath her bedsheets until the clock strikes midnight.

his lips encapsulate hers, at first she's timid but inevitably gives in. it's a natural response at this point, her body craves his at all times. one day her mind will catch up. it's his mission to make that happen.

he's about to push her sweatshirt up with his hands but he feels a firm hand press against his chest. "there's more you have to tell me, i know it." she pushes him in her bedroom and closes the door. he falls onto the bed with her standing in between his legs tall, making him look up at him. he knows she's trying to intimidate him, and he hates to admit that it's almost working.

"i've been working undercover for this fuckin' gang for almost two years." she leans down and pulls at his basketball shorts that he wore; she can't lie she liked seeing him in shorts. there was something about his thick muscles abusing the thin material that made her want to jump him but she had to remind herself that she was angry with him. she wanted to make him pay.

"that friend you had- fuck," he felt her soft hand press hard against his crotch, "cassie? i threatened her after you told me she stole from you. that's why you haven't heard from her in over a year." he closed his eyes and she slowly, but with firm hands, started to stroke the outline of his cock through the material of his briefs.

she pulled down her denim shorts and kicked them toward her closet. he chuckled seeing a damp spot on her panties. even angry she can't ignore the way she feels about him.

"that guy you said made you feel uncomfortable on that date six months ago? i got him arrested for drugs." she knelt down and took his cock out, thumbing over the tip making him inhale sharply. "and you remember - fuck - that time when you got a flat tire?" he fell back to the bed when she held eye contact, spitting on his dick and rubbing her hand up and down. "i put a nail in your tire just so you'd call me."

"you're insane."

"i'm in love with you," he sits up and puts his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to kiss him. this time she gave in immediately, kissing back with a passion. he pulled back to take his shirt off and she did the same. he reached around her back and unhooked her bra letting it fall to the ground. she straddled him, slowly sinking onto his hard dick.

it stung at first- neither of them thought to use any protection. their minds are too foggy and they're too in love to do anything about it. "i'd kill for you, y/n." he breathes out when she finally sinks all the way down onto him. "why do i get the feeling you already have?"

both of their eyes are blown with lust as they move together in sync. his large rough hands move across her back, feeling her soft skin close to his. he kisses her tits, sucking and leaving love bites where stretch marks have made their light indent across. he sucks on the most sensitive parts that knows make her moan and her back arch.

she grinds down, his cock hitting the best spot inside her smoothly while her clit grazes against his skin so effortlessly. it's the best feeling she's had all day. she holds on tightly to his shoulders, nails gripping hard and leaving crescent moons from her firm hold. biting her lip as she feels the bubble in her stomach about to burst. nate sits back and watches her ride it out on top of him and it's the most satisfying thing he's ever seen. she moans his name and slows her pace down, firmly grabbing his jaw and pulling him in for a kiss, raking her hand down his chest.

"do you trust me?" he asked as he pulled away.

"i do now," she admitted, running a hand through his short blonde hair. in once quick movement he flipped the both of them over causing her to shriek. he slides out of her, standing up to the edge of the bed. pulling the rest of his briefs off his body he takes in a deep breath.

"turn over," she does as told, propping herself up on her elbows. he brushed her hair out of the way, kissing a trail up her spine as he lined himself up with her entrance. still slick and ready she dipped her head down but let out a sigh when she felt his whole body weight press down on her. nate laced his fingers with hers, "safe word if it's too much. promise i'll stop this time."

not even starting out in a good pace, nate goes straight to fucking her lights out. his body moving with a vicious pace, using every muscle he has on his body into making her body mold with his. nate bit down onto her neck with his teeth lightly while he picked up his pace in an ungodly manner.

her poor bed frame was squeaking and she could bear the base breaking with every thrust. she kept moaning but couldn’t form words, her body tingling from the pleasure she was feeling from his cock railing in and out of her. using his core strength nate sat upright, continuing to fuck all of the energy she had right out of her.

her clit was grazing against the material of the sheets, his hands gripped bruises into her soft flesh of her hips, out of his mouth came a string of curses and praises all aimed at her.

fuck this is the best we’ve had

you feel so damn good

cant get enough of you

it got to the point where the feeling if his cock, his hands on her hips now pulling her back onto him since she ran out of energy just from his force alone. nate felt her warm cunt clench around her pussy signaling her orgasm was close.

pulling her hair, he forced her to press her back against his chest. this angle was somehow better, she felt the tip of his cock bruise the spot inside her that made her see stars. the pleasure was almost too much as she began to cry out from the overstimulation and pleasure that nate was giving her.

one of his hands wrapped around her throat causing her head to rest on his shoulder. she moaned and whined, tears falling from her eyes. the other hand wrapped around her torso and two fingers rubbing on her clit.

she moaned praises and thanks to nate for fucking her so damn good. his cock felt so good abusing her pussy like this she was out of her mind in pleasure, lost in the fog of it all. the way his hand was slowly adding pressure to her throat, his hand rubbing on her poor swollen clit, his dick pumping in and out she was bound to give out.

she stuffed one of her hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and nate begged her to cum on his cock. to drench the sheets in her sticky mess. she also pleaded to fill her up, to have her leaking for days on end. she wanted to feel him inside her for a week and she knew she would with the way he fucked her so good.

her body flopped down onto the mattress when the orgasm washed over her, white knuckling the sheets as he fucked her through it. nate ran his hands over her now lightly sweaty back, kissing deeply on her neck as he pulled out. the two were out of breath, he laid down on the mattress next to her. nate went to the bathroom and got a wet washcloth, handing it to her, not really knowing what to do with it.

“forgive me?” he asked, his voice husky as he pulled his briefs back on. she propped herself up on her elbows resting the cloth on her tender thighs.

“maybe, depends on if you stay the night.”

-

she woke up to the sound of lightly whispered curses and nate hitting his head on the closet door. she glanced at the clock, 5:19 am. she had only gotten four hours sleep at that point.

“what’re you doing?” she asked, voice coated in sleep.

“partner called, they arrested the other two guys we’ve been after.” he hustled to get his clothes on and tie his shoes. she rolled her eyes, he’s leaving again. nothing changes. she rolled back over with a heavy sigh and a disappointed heart. “hey- hey, i’ll be back. i need this confession and then we’ll be done.”

no response came. she should’ve known it was going to be like this.

“i’ll bring you breakfast, want pancakes or donuts?”

she rolled back over, looking in his eyes. something was different this time, more gentle. more…emotional. different.

“pancakes.”

-

a/n hehe hope u liked :)

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[fortunxa]

Just come home

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: In a mix of alcohol and jealousy, heartbreaks can get confusing.

author’s note: Hi!! Firstly, thank you for all the love on my ‘Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights’ one-shot ᥫ᭡ Secondly, it’s not a one-shot anymore—the sequel is officially in the drafts!! Lastly, I just hope you guys enjoy this post as much as you did my first :)

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

I stand in the corner of a smoke-filled living room, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat already buried deep inside my nostrils. The red light illuminating the space makes me feel as though I’ve entered a brothel. I might as well have with the amount of grinding and hooking up going on. Truthfully, I had no business being here other than keeping my word to my friends to join them at the next party. But, as far as I know, they are currently scattered between playing at the beer pong table and blacking out in the garden, leaving me to fend for myself.

None of this matters. My gaze is shamelessly focused on her.

I know knew the taste of her black honey lipstick too well. Her freckled shoulders supported the weight of my legs many, many times, and her fruity scent still lingers on my bedsheets no matter how many times I wash them. I felt each curve of her body and counted each scar. Most importantly, I knew the way her mind worked and knew that her abandonment issues were to blame for our breakup. ‘Leave you before you leave me’ mindset.

Now, I’m forced to watch as she drapes a random girl’s legs over her lap, her slender fingers tracing lazy circles on the stranger’s knee. My grip tightens around the glass of whisky that I’m holding, and I swiftly knock it back. The burning taste makes me grimace, but not as much as the unfolding scene. I make my way into the open kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka as I line up three shots. Each has its turn sliding down my esophagus before a feminine voice comes from behind me.

“Look at you! Party animal or rough night?” The redhead approaches me, her shoulder brushing mine as she cocks her head to the side. “If it’s the latter, I could help you with that. My name is–” I stop listening. Her suggestive tone is evident as she smiles at me with hooded eyes, and I give her a once-over. Her green two-piece outfit accentuates her figure, her long legs and abstract flower thigh tattoo on display. She is attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t care less. I already know who I want, and her name is Jinx. Powder, if you know her well enough. If there is even the slightest chance that she wants me back, I would never want to feed into her insecurities by pulling a one-night stand; right in front of her, nonetheless. Although her own flirty nature never diluted, I just couldn’t bring myself to act the way she did.

“Not interested,” I reply, indifferent to her attempt at flirting. The nameless girl lets out an exaggerated sigh, tracing her fingers down my forearm.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind.” She sends me a wink, and I nod absentmindedly. My eyes track the red-headed girl to ensure she's gone, and I notice a certain someone doing the same.

Jinx’s jaw is clenched as her gaze hardens. I watch as she unconsciously digs her nails into her plaything’s leg, making her hiss in pain. But, once the blue-haired girl’s angry eyes meet my curious ones for the first time in over a month, her demeanor shifts instantly; she relaxes, turning her attention back to the blonde bombshell. I see them exchange a few words, and my heart drops when Jinx hunches over to place a kiss on the wound. Oh, that was low. I whip around and reach for the bottle of vodka again—time to drink fast until my brain moves slow, and hopefully erases that nauseating scene from my mind. I skip the shot glasses and take two considerable gulps. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look around the kitchen; it’s just me, an abundance of liquor, and a heavy lack of chasers.

I start feeling the needed buzz as my body grows hotter, and I grip the counter with a dumb smile playing on my lips. I decide to get high on my lows and stumble to the dance floor, where other sweaty bodies are already swaying to the sultry song playing from the DJ’s booth—also known as ‘the guy whose phone is currently connected to the speaker’.

I’m dancing like it’s my last night alive, each move bolder than the previous. My hands roam over my body as I let it go free to the music. The atmosphere feels suffocating in the best way possible; it almost makes me forget my heartbreak. Almost. What it is making me forget, though, is the impending hangover. I lose track of time, but my tingling limbs are telling me that the copious amount of alcohol I’ve consumed is still doing its job, and that’s enough for me.

A familiar pair of hands suddenly grabs my hips from behind, and I’m immediately transported to cloud nine. I press my back further into Jinx’s chest as her head dips into the crook of my neck, and I let out a content hum. My eyes flutter shut from the sensation, but once the spinning room feeling intensifies, I’m forced to open them again.

“You’re not pulling away,” she murmurs in my ear, a mix of surprise and relief in her voice as she matches my rhythm.

“Should I?” I ask breathlessly while reaching to place my hand on the back of her head. Her hair is still as soft as I remember.

“How would you know who’s coming up behind you?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down my spine. I let out a brief chuckle and continue swaying my hips.

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t recognize those hands.” She falls silent, and I take the opportunity to rest my head on her shoulder.

“Quite a show you were putting on, trinket,” she speaks up, and her grip on me tightens while my stomach flips at the old pet name. “Thought I’d have to start gouging people’s eyes out.”

“Oh yeah?” She nods. “Surprised you even noticed through blondie’s affection. Wasn’t my leg you were kissing back there, I’ll tell you that much.”

Jinx stiffens but does not dare retort, and I finally decide to turn around. My glossy eyes meet her blue, sad ones; despite it all, a pang of guilt hits me. I snake my arms around her neck as hers move to my waist. Her motions seem much less confident now.

“Hey, you have your flings, and I have my alcohol. We cope how we cope,” I cheer up, or at least try to in my drunken, tactless state. “We’re all good. I never blamed you.”

“But you should,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze falls to the floor covered in spilled drinks. Her face contorts, and I can practically hear the negative thoughts filling her head. Watching her in this state breaks my heart even more. I use my pointer finger to make her look at me, and I recognize the war in her eyes.

“I still love you, Jinx,” I confess, and her eyebrows knit together at the stray tear rolling down my flushed cheek. She doesn’t hesitate to wipe it off. “Just… Tell me you love me, too.” She’s silent, but not for long.

“Who told you I stopped?”

Her lips crash against mine with passion as her hands cup my face. She still tastes like candy, and she’s still my Jinx. When her tongue asks for entrance, I don’t deny it. Sweet saliva mixes with salty tears, and it takes this one kiss to communicate all of our intense feelings. The sheer intimacy that I had missed so deeply makes me sob into her mouth, and she pulls me closer. I needed more of her, all of her, and I needed it forever. But the need for air becomes too great, and I reluctantly pull away. I rest my forehead against hers, our chests moving up and down rapidly.

“Just come back to me,” I plead as my hand falls to the baby-blue clouds on her bicep. “Come home.”

Her eyes are full of adoration, and she captures my lips again—much gentler this time as if I were precious china, and one wrong move would break me. Although, in her eyes, I very well could be.

“Always.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend's dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You stumble through the open doors into the cool night air. The sweat on your skin chills you as your warmth melds with the evening temperature. The pulse of the club thrums through you as it follows you out, barely contained by the walls. 

You glance at the bouncer as you pass. He’s uninterested as he peers into the shadows across the street. You pull at the front of your shirt, airing it out as the heat of alcohol nips in your cheeks. You’re not in too deep. Three vodkas and water between to even it out. 

You sigh and lean against the brick, pushing your head back as you let your eyes close. There’s a tick in your cheek as you cross your arms. For all her nagging for you to come with her, Faye hadn’t been much of a wing woman. Maybe that’s what she’d expected of you. You don’t know, you just came to dance off the long week. 

Before you came out, you couldn’t separate her from the guy she was batting her lashes at. She swore before you came that she wasn’t looking to hook-up. Not again. Last time was just too weird. And you agreed, last time was the final straw. You’re done with those awkward encounters. 

You open your eyes and set your head straight. You would think she would be a lot more cautious. Considering where she came from. Or maybe that’s why she’s so reckless. She’s a bit too old for teenage rebellion. 

You stand and roll your shoulders. You’ll go back in and entice her away from that creep with a shot. You’re going home together. Just like she promised. 

“How did I know you’d be here?” The deep rumble has your ankle bending as you take a step, your clunk heel turning sideways. You know that voice, all too well. Fuck. “Where is she?” 

You face Walter as he marches up on you. Better known to you and all Faye’s cohort as ‘Mr. Marshall’. The no-nonsense detective who never has a good word or a smile for anyone. You’d hate to have a father like him. He makes you thankful you don’t have one. 

“Inside,” you shrug and go to spin away. 

“You just left her in there?” He snarls as he closes in from behind. 

“I’m going back in--” 

He grabs you and spins you to face him, his large hand tight around your arm. Despite the new strands of grey in his curls, illuminated by the lights of the marque, and the fine lines around his eyes, he’s still an imposing man. And strong. You wiggle, trying to tug away from his grasp. 

“Eh,” one of the bouncers calls over, “let her go.” 

He huffs but does as he’s told. He doesn’t want a scene, not that he couldn’t flip his badge out and swing his weight around. He never seems to shy away from that. 

“I came out to get some air. I didn’t leave her--” 

“No, but you brought her here,” he looks up, “that’s more than enough.” 

“I came here with her, I didn’t bring her here--” 

“Whatever. This shit might fly with your deadbeat mother but it won’t get far with me. Faye never started sneaking out until you came around--” 

You scoff, “she’s twenty-one. She’s an adult. And trust me, she was doing a lot before I ever met her.” 

“Take me to her,” he growls, “now.” 

You roll your eyes and the rumble stays in his throat. You wave him off and pivot on your heel. You clop forward and show your stamped wrist to the bouncer. They stop Walter and he sighs. You don’t wait for him as he stops and shuffles around. You don’t look back, knowing his badge will gain him easy entry. 

He catches up with you as spectrum of blues and purples haze over you from the coloured bulbs. He presses close as drunken clubgoers crowd around you. You search along the bar where you last saw Faye. 

“She was with some guy--” 

“Some guy?” He blusters, “are you serious?” 

You take out your phone and key in a message to her. You hit send and pop your head back up, scanning the writhing bodies. You don’t want to stay here with Walter, you can feel his anger roiling off of him. It would be better if you could find Faye first and sneak out of there. 

“I’ll check the ladies,” you offer. 

He doesn’t say a word. You set off towards the bathroom and sense him behind you, following you. Great. He trails you all the way down the hallway and only stops outside the black door. You push inside, doubting you’ll find Faye but all too happy to get space from that overbearing grump. 

You don’t bother checking the shoes under the stalls or the other faces in the mirror. You take out your gloss and redo your lips. You fix the collar on your cropped polo and turn to check the curve of your ass in your leggings. You look good even if your eyes are bit glassy. 

You look at your phone again. No answer. You can’t hide in here forever and you somehow don’t think a sign will stop Walter forever. The vodka fills you with doubt. You wish you were sober. 

You drag yourself back through the door and shrug at Walter as he meets you with a furrowed brow. 

“Not in there,” you say, “she’s probably dancing--” 

“You know, you won’t get far in life spending all your time in pits like this. You should go to school, grow up.” 

You ignore him. You’ve heard a million lectures from him, usually aimed at his daughter, but you don’t have to listen to him. He isn’t your father. He doesn’t know shit about you even if he’s profiled you as a bad egg. 

Your phone buzzes and you stop at the end of the hallways. His arm hits yours and you squint at the screen. He leans in, reading over your shoulder. 

“Shit!” He snarls sharply. 

The drunken message makes you cringe, ‘see u 2morrow. Got a hottie wit a botty.’ 

“Come on,” he grabs your elbow again. This time there’s no escape as he marches you across the cramped dancefloor. 

“Walt-- Mr. Marshall, what are you doing--” 

“Finding my goddamn daughter.” 

“But--” 

“But nothing. This is your fault. You’re not going anywhere until she’s home,” he sneers as you stumble in time with his long strides. “Then I never wanna see your face again.” 

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 3. 𝓑𝓞𝓣𝓣𝓞𝓜𝓢 𝓤𝓟 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 1.9k

With a deep breath, you raise your fist to knock on the door across from your own. Utahime, Shoko, and Mei Mei surround you, the atmosphere in the hallway flooding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It was nerve-wracking that you were about to be in a room with a bunch of guys you don't really know, but you had each other and could leave whenever, so that made you feel incrementally better. That mixed with the excitement of making new friends is what encouraged you to knock on their door.

The air is almost uncomfortably quiet as you wait for the door to open, and when it finally does, it reveals Yu, smile wide across his face as he says, "Hey! Come on in!"

"Hey Yu," you say and go to give him a quick hug, which he returns with a gentle squeeze to your side. "Thanks for letting us invade your place."

"Anytime!" he responds with a slight giggle, then waves his hand in a follow me kind of gesture. He pivots and leads the way into the living room space, where a blond boy sits on the couch and another boy with long, black hair down his back is settled on the floor. The television plays sit-com reruns and you watch the blond chuckle at the screen before turning his head in your direction.

"Hi!" you wave at them with a friendly smile. "I'm yn, and this is Utahime, Shoko, and Mei Mei, my roommates and best friends! Not sure if Yu told you, but we'll be living across the hall for the year."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kento," the blond one says politely.

"I'm Suguru," the other one greets, and you notice his gaze lingering on Utahime as he continues, "Nice to meet you all."

"Satoru is in his room doing God-knows-what," Yu explains the absence of their fourth roommate. "He'll be out soon enough, I'm sure."

"It might be better he stays in there," Suguru mutters, causing Yu to laugh and Kento to breath quickly out of his nose - so, basically laughed, too.

"He is a bit chaotic," Yu adds and you watch Suguru roll his eyes. "But regardless, we are gonna have fun!"

"I hate to ask already - no, that's a lie, I don't hate to ask. Where's the alcohol?" Mei Mei queries.

"Damn, not even five minutes in," jests Shoko.

"I was promised!" the blue-haired girl jabs at Shoko's arm with her elbow.

"I'll show you," Nanami stands and walks toward the kitchen, Mei Mei following like an excited little kid promised new toys.

You opt to follow the two light-haired individuals and the others trail behind you. You all trickle into the kitchen and see Kento has opened a cabinet and is asking Mei Mei for her preference.

"There's some in the fridge, too," Yu offers, opening it up and grabbing a beer for himself. You peer into it and grab a seltzer that seems to have a new flavor you have yet to try. Shoko steals a beer, and Mei Mei and Utahime ask if anyone wants shots, then proceed to pour one for everyone without waiting for an answer.

"Pizza's on the way already, by the way," you announce.

"Good, I'm starved," says Utahime while stealing a sip of Shoko's beer then grimacing at the taste. Under her breath, she mutters, "I hate beer."

"Everyone, line up!" Mei Mei instructs. She raises her shot glass, announcing, "Now, I know we all just met, but you guys already seem cool. So, cheers to being neighbors, and cheers to the first semester!"

There are a couple whoops and celebratory noises before everyone throws back the vodka. You feel the liquor burn the back of your throat, the taste making your tongue tingle. You quickly chase it with your seltzer and slam the shot glass on the counter.

When you look up, you see God.

Well, probably not God. Maybe a saint or an angel or even a ghost because you had just recently convinced yourself that the guy from the frat with the most beautiful eyes and perfect build and hypnotizing smile was something made from your imagination; a figment of a dream of an idea of a memory. Yet he stands before you now, watching you frozen in place with what you expect is probably a similarly astonished look as your own.

You smile sheepishly and stare at your hand, realizing he is probably staring because you are and he likely doesn't even remember you - the lights were dark and you had a quick interaction. Or at least, you hope he doesn't remember you. If he does, you decide your only option is to crawl into a little hole you dug yourself with your own stupidity and spend the rest of eternity ruminating on that exact moment - the one where you ruined your life.

"You good, girl?" you hear Shoko whisper over to you after she places a hand on your shoulder. All you do is look to her with wide eyes and jerk your head toward the white haired boy, and she completely understands - she always does. She turns away to walk to the fridge but leans next to your ear and whispers at a level barely you can hear, "Shit, you were right about his eyes."

"Satoru!" Yu exclaims, finally noticing the boy's presence. "You're alive!"

"Of course! Why'd you ask? Did'ya miss me?" he asks. You finally have the courage to look back up at Satoru and see he has moved over to pour a shot for himself, not paying you any attention.

"No, we were having a great time before you walked in," Suguru says in a monotone voice, but you detect the sarcasm interwoven with his words.

"Can't believe you all started without me," he pouts, a whiny tone in your voice.

"You snooze, you loose! Especially with booze," Mei Mei exclaims.

"Oh, Satoru, this is Mei Mei," Yu introduces, gesturing to said girl. He proceeds to introduce Utahime, Shoko, and then you, and you watch Satoru's eyes as they finally land on you again. You smile awkwardly as Yu speaks your name aloud. "And this is Satoru, the final roommate!"

"Nice to meet you all," Satoru says, mock curtsying, causing you to have to hold back a laugh. "Shots?"

The night continues with a very lighthearted tone. The pizza arrives and everyone gathers to eat, a comfortable silence except for light chewing flooding the air. You feel like the liquor helps the atmosphere become more comfortable, the lingering anxiety almost nonexistent, save for the nagging thought your subconscious keeps reminding you of: when you spilled your drink on Gojo's shirt.

You are sitting amongst the living room area, scattered around in a circle around the coffee table. To your right is Yu, sharing a love seat with ample space between the two of you as Shoko is comfortably sat on the floor, resting against the sofa in between yours and Yu's legs. Utahime and Mei Mei sit next to Kento, Satoru seated next to Suguru on the carpet and directly across from you. This makes it both hard to stare and hard not to stare, since he is right in front of you and you don't want him to notice your gaze. He must, though, because you keep making eye contact when he looks over at you questioningly and you realize you have been ogling him again.

After some off-key karaoke and a knock on the door asking everyone to kindly quiet down, a dangerously competitive game of uno takes place. It been a decent distraction from the man across from you, giving something to put your attention on as you are now an round eighteen of the game - Satoru won't allow a new game until he finally wins one.

"It's never going to happen," Kento says as he places his final card down, winning the eighteenth round.

"Round nineteen!" says Satoru with a toothy smile, and everyone in the room groans at the thought.

"No," Utahime asserts. "Mei Mei just fell asleep and i think she's drooling on Kento. Sorry, by the way, Kento."

"All good," he says, but you can see the faint tinge of a blush spreading across his pale face. You spot Suguru giving him a knowing look, and you and him make eye contact, sending each other a silent yet telling message.

"Basically, we should get going," your nursing major friend claims.

"Ugh, but it just got started!" whines the white-haired boy.

"Good thing we have all year. You guys should probably go, anyway. It's getting late and we gotta sleep," Suguru inserts.

"That's okay! I'm getting sleepy anyway," you agree, and conveniently a yawn escapes you.

"It was fun. Thanks for joining us, and very nice to meet you all," Kento speaks as he aids Utahime in helping Mei Mei stand. His arm is around her waist, Utahime supporting from under her armpits.

"So polite," Mei Mei whispers in a sleepy haze and Kento chuckles at the comment.

"Whatever," Satoru all but pouts as he walks with everyone to the door of the suite.

Everyone says their goodbyes, the atmosphere comfortable as if you eight have all been friends for ages, and this was one of many nights saying goodbyes rather than the first one. It was fun, you think, to get to know them. They seem genuine, and you feel lucky to have them living across the hall. It almost feels safer to you knowing they will be right there.

And another plus: they're definitely some good eye candy.

You say goodnight to the girls after reentering your suite, then change and get ready for bed. You lie down before you realize you left your jacket in the guys' kitchen. Groaning at your forgetfulness, you sit up and go to knock on their door, deciding it is better to ask for it back now than forget about it again.

You make your way and knock knock knock on their door. A sense of deja vu hits you from the same sequence of events occurring several hours earlier, yet this time when the door swings open, the man standing there has white hair instead of brown.

"Back already?" Satoru wears his signature grin. His hoodie and jeans has been swapped for a white t-shirt and black sweats, and he holds a glass of water in his hand, which was probably what he was doing and why he was out and not in his room.

"Sorry," you smile apologetically. "I forgot my jacket in the kitchen."

"All good. Come in," he opens the door wider to let you enter. You hurry over and see your jacket right where you left it, hanging on the back of one of their kitchen chairs. You hear footsteps indicating Satoru following close behind.

"So," he says, and you turn around to face him. "Been meaning to ask why you ran off the other night."

Your eyes widen in surprise before you respond, "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

Satoru stares at you for a minute before you finally regain yourself enough to say, "Sorry about your shirt."

"No biggie."

"Can we pretend it never happened?"

"Deal," he reaches his hand out in an offer for you to take it. "Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you," you giggle and shake his hand to solidify your deal.

And while you've only really just met him, you feel yourself already developing a little crush on the blue-eyed boy.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 30!!

July 30th <3

Enter - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1275

First part Previous part

The night sky was a beautiful blossoming colour of dark blue, the stars shone almost as bright as James Potter's eyes right now. The constellations stood out in the sky, it was loud, busy, sweaty - everything Regulus hated. Whenever something got too much, Regulus would just tip his head to the sky and trace the flowing, sharp edged shapes through the sheet of ever dark silk.

Parties weren't exactly Regulus' forte, but there wasn't too many people here, and he knew most of them. Still, it didn't stop him from taking a few breaths, in and out, look up, breathe out.

He nursed a plastic cup of whatever soft drink had been spiked with vodka, he'd taken a cup to quench his thirst, but it smelled far too sweet and tasted like straight vodka with the amount that had been added.

There it is, he admired the sparkling orbs in the sky, the Leo constellation. His star was a part of it, the constellation took the form of a lion. Regal, fierce, brave and loving, people have always told him that the lion reflects his personality, but he's not so sure. A lion to him is sunny, protective, strong yet sweet, sharp yet soft. Doesn't that remind you of someone?

The thought dashed through his head, the singular mention of James that made his mind spiral and his leg bounce up and down as he leant against the cold, wooden wall outside the cabin.

One glimpse of that face, all he needed was that, just to see the brunettes face. On thought, he hadn't seem him in a while, he'd disappeared from the party about an hour ago. None of his friends seemed to notice, or even care. That set off a whole new string of worries in his head, one side of him hissed at him to stay put, to not worry so much, to act normal for once. What if James thinks he's being clingy, what if he's with a girl? Because of course Regulus just wasn't enough, he didn't quite meet the standards that someone had to hold to be with a man such as James Potter. 

The other side was screaming at him to go, to find him, to check on him and make sure his James was alright. The thought that he was hurt, pained, upset - anything that wiped that smile away from his gorgeous, light filled face - was something that clearly doesn't deserve to walk this earth.

He took a long swig from his drink, the burning in his throat taking away from the rotten flood that was his mind. Then he pushed himself away from the wall, placed the almost empty cup into one of his friends hands - he doesn't quite recall who - and shot off towards his cabin.

-

Within enter, he saw James curled up on the bed, book in hand and tired eyes. Normally he has so much energy, he always has smiling cheeks and crinkled, loving eyes. But now those eyes seemed to glaze lazily over the book, his cheeks no longer looking warm, Regulus always imagined they'd be warm under his icy fingers that would trace his skin with touch as light as a shivering ghost.

"James?" He shut the door with a quiet click behind him.

As if in an instant, James' tired eyes, which were now alight with curiosity, lifted up from his book - it was actually Regulus' book - oh god no. That was Regulus' book, the one he'd made notes in, his copy of 'The Song Of Achilles'. He'd made specific notes in the book about James, about how much Achilles reminded him of the brunette. When the two shared their first kiss in the book, the tear wrenching, forbidden, heart breaking love story, he could rant for hours about that is what he longed to have with James.

A sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.

He wanted to be graced with a happy ending, but knowing his luck, he'll get pushed to second choice, like he has been his entire life. 

Not quite good enough.

'He's half my soul as the poets say.' 

Is he though?

"How much of that have you read?" He managed to get out, surprised that he could even open his mouth in his mortified state. His feet stayed glued to the floor, still light enough to run if he felt the need to. He hovered there, staring at James with such fright in his eyes while the older boy only put the book down slowly and stood from the bed.

He never got an answer from James, the next few moments felt so fast, so quick, so blurred, yet the memory would be tattooed in it's full, beautiful, alluring details behind his wide eyes until the day that he goes to his grave.

Hot lips were pressed against his own parted ones, eyelashes fluttered against his concerningly hot cheeks, warm, raspy breaths broke through his ears and his eyes fluttered shut under the comfort of strong hands curling around his waist and tracing patterns into the bare skin of his waist with skilled fingers.

Regulus reached one hand into his very favourite brunette hair, weaving the soft hair through his almost trembling hands. His other hand came up to the boys now smiling face, oh thank the gods he was smiling, Regulus would burn the entire world down just to keep James looking at him. Just like that, all the time. His perfect hands, the hands that seemed to fit around Regulus' waist like that was their only purpose, to hold Regulus, to protect him, to keep him safe, to touch and feel and love and admire.

His face was warm, flushed and smiling under his sweet touch.

Oh.

He really was just made for Regulus, all of those long lost fantasies he ran over and over in his head came to be true and far better than he could've ever imagined. They really did fit together like jigsaw pieces, two very stark different pieces, yet they fit, and it worked ever so well. Everything was playing through his mind like a movie, everything finally worked his way, he finally got the one thing that he'd ever desired.

His hands looped around James' neck, pulling him closer into him as James' comforting, healing, safe scent surrounded him. The other boy steadied himself as he took a few steps forward, caging Regulus between slightly tattooed, tanned arms and the wooden surface behind his bag. 

Tongues collided, breaths mixed, hands fumbled and groans echoed. Both taking breaths for air, but keeping their hands on each other the entire time. One of James' hands always stayed planted on Regulus' waist, gripping onto it as if somebody was going to steal him, as if Regulus wasn't always his.

"I'm yours." Regulus reassured him with a quiet, low whisper.

That was all it took for James to moan, dipping his head back downwards to kiss Regulus, now rough and desperate, needy and lustful - and Regulus loved it. All of the sounds he made, all of the touches and the praise that spilled from James' mouth as they kept within inches of each other.

The same hands that he has always longed to touch him, hooked under his legs, lifting him from the floor as he automatically looped his legs around James' waist, kissing his neck and whispering every sinful thought he had into the other mans ear. While being pulled away from the door and towards the same bed that they would watch movies on every single night, he couldn't help but smile into James' lips as he released a hot, heavy breath.

All of those nights he longed for more, and now he finally had it.

Next and final part

[ask-swansea]

Mouthwash.

Mouthwash. All of this for a few hundred thousand bottles of mouthwash.Shelves after shelves of the neon blue hued liquid, packed neatly away in brown cardboard boxes, waiting to be shipped to a dock they'de never arrive to. Swansea didn’t even want to open cargo; it felt like some elusive Pandora’s Box, like the moment they opened it, some plague would spread around the ship like rodents in a sewer. But, he was outvoted.

“If could have something we need.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“What if it has medical supplies?”

His crew members voices all aired the same exact emotions: Desperation, and Hope. Both of which he’d given up on long ago. The moment the ship crashed, he knew it was over. That damned company wasn’t going to notice them gone, the nearest ship likely thousands of AU’s away, too far to notice the wreckage as their ship floated helplessly through space. Sure, he could try and fix the ship if they found supplies (hell, maybe he’d even let Daisuke try his hand at helping), but he doubted it. The chances of them shipping the exact materials they needed, this exact trip, were next to none. Swansea knew that much. The others? Hopeful.

Hoping that they'd throw open the cargo doors, and be met with a smidge, a glimpse of sanctuary. An empty hope that, if left unquenched, would only spell a quicker fate for the whole ship.

And as they opened the cargo door, and were met with neatly stacked boxes, single file from the floor to the ceiling on shelves and tile likewise, that’s *exactly* what happened. The first box they opened; mouthwash. Bright blue, reflecting the light from the bulbs up above. The next box, mouthwash.

Mouthwash,

mouthwash,

mouthwash. Quarts on gallons on barrels on hogsheads of the stuff. Anya was the first to point out just how USELESS it was. Too much sugar to disinfect; The sugar would only feed whatever bacteria risked an injury. But Swansea was the one to notice the singular, bittersweet positive. That beautiful marking of 14% ethanol. About as much as the average liqueur, a little more than the average craft beer. In AA, they had to avoid mouthwash; “you’d be surprised”, they tell you, “How many people get sick relapsing on mouthwash”. Sad saps with no hope left in the world, who turn to the smallest bit of alcohol to try and hydrate that deep seated thirst for the weightless euphoria of being drunk. Where nothing in the world matters but another bottle and some chips to go with.

And now, Swansea was one of those saps. This realization, them entering here and seeing how utterly hopeless their situation, had truly woken him up to the truth: They were completely and utterly screwed. He would never feel the grass on earth again. He would never feel a chilly spring night, or a warm fall morning. The sun would never reflect off of his age-wrinkled face again, the sting of a sunburn after a day out only a long lost memory. He’d never see his old friends again, nor the home he’d worked so hard to buy and settle. He’d never watch his son's turn 18, get married, never meet his grandkids assuming they had any. He’d never get the chance to tell his kids JUST how proud he was; That they didn’t, WOULDN’T, end up like him.

He’d never hold his wife again. He’d never see her, kiss her, comfort her, or get that final true “goodbye”. He’d never get to thank her one last time for putting up with his shit; Every grumpy morning, and tired night. For putting up with his occasional brink of relapse, and for reeling him back every time his feet were on the edge. He’d never see her radiant face again; One that even age couldn’t ruin. Beautiful cocoa eyes, chubby freckled cheeks with dimples that dotted each whenever she gave that toothy, lopsided smile he fell in love with. Tilting his head back, the warm burn of the alcoholic mouthwash washed over his mouth. It stung, tasting sickly sweet, like a childrens blue-raspberry juice mixed with vodka or something similar. In one long, continual gulp, 15 years of long nights and slow days came to an end. A long battle closing as he waved his white flag, submitting himself back to the influence of drink. Pulling the bottle from his lips Swansea took a deep breath.

He was going to die on this ship. And, likely, all of them were too. At least, in his final weeks, maybe months, he could go back to a time in life he felt no worry. Hell. Maybe it could help Daisuke, the innocent intern who deserved NONE of this, too. He chuckled before piping up. “y’hear that? That's the sound of 15 years of sobriety, popping like a cyst. A red hot, glorious..magnificent cyst. Good riddance- cheers! To captain curly..” ..The one who had crashed this ship, and had doomed them all to this oblivion, “Hear, Hear. Now we can go out in *style*.” Truly, like the good old days.

Turning towards his Intern, Swansea waved them over, offering the bottle. “Daisuke, C'mere. Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?”

[daisynik7]

Omg Nikki!!! Congrats on the milestone!!!! 🥂 May I submit a request for this fun event? Me & U, Cassie for Gojo Satoru? -Smut if you don't mind ? 🥺

Me & U

It's me and you, I've been waiting, think I wanna make that move now

Pairing: frat boy!Gojo x sorority girl!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.2k

cw: college au, drinking, explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), cunnilingus, fingering, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, baby)

Summary: You’re hosting a party tonight to celebrate Shoko’s acceptance into medical school. She invites a few of her friends, including resident frat star Satoru Gojo, who you historically don’t get along with. That changes when you find out his true feelings for you. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for requesting this @mochimooon! This is a classic y2k hit for the karaoke party! I haven’t written much for Gojo, I find him so intimidating for some reason! But I had fun writing this. I hope you like it!

Shoko kneels on one knee, expertly double fisting Smirnoff Ices as you and your sisters chant your favorite drinking song. “Here’s to sister Shoko, sister Shoko, sister Shoko! Here’s to sister Shoko who’s with us tonight.”

“She’s slutty! She’s sleazy! She’s so fucking easy! Here’s to sister Shoko who’s with us tonight!”

“Now drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker. Drink!”

“NOW DRINK MOTHERFUCKER, DRINK MOTHERFUCKER, DRINK MOTHERFUCKER. DRINK!” This last line is the loudest, resulting in an uproar of cheers and laughter as she waves the two empty bottles, showing off her drinking prowess.

She recently got into her dream medical school and you’re hosting this party to celebrate, one last bang before she’s sent off in the fall. It’s only the seniors gathered tonight, all of you squeezing into your teensy off-campus, one-bedroom apartment. The celebrant wraps her arm around your shoulder, kissing you on the cheek. “Thank you for this. Might be the last time I’ll be able to for a while.”

You smile, hugging her back. “Then you better keep drinking while you still have the chance.”

She grabs the handle of vodka on the counter, twisting off the cap to take a swig. “You don’t have to tell me twice."

Since it’s an unofficial gathering of more than three sisters involving alcohol, you decide to do the responsible thing and volunteer to be sober monitor, just in case all hell breaks loose. You nurse a sparkling water, watching with amusement as your sorority sisters gradually get more and more intoxicated, especially Shoko, who’s got a happy buzz going. 

There’s loud banging on the door, causing a few of the girls to shriek. You answer it only to be met by blinding white hair, piercing blue eyes, and that all-too-familiar smirk. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

Satoru Gojo. Self-proclaimed frat star. Notorious playboy. Overall nuisance. And, unfortunately, Shoko’s good friend, which is why he’s here. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, swinging the door open to let him in. His fraternity brother, Geto, greets you politely with an embrace. You’re fond of him, having spent time with him over this past year after being voted sweetheart of their fraternity. In fact, you’re quite fond of all of the brothers, except for one. 

You’re not quite sure why you and Gojo don’t get along. Maybe it’s because of his arrogant attitude, or his inability to be serious when you need him to be. You’ve had to work alongside him on several occasions, each one resulting in disagreements or petty arguments. Like oil and water, the two of you don’t mix, simple as that. But, for Shoko’s sake, you tolerate him, enough to remain cordial, for the most part. 

“Shoko!” he greets, hugging her tightly. “Happy birthday!”

You notice the other sisters watching them, whispering to each other with giddy smiles on their faces. Of course they’re happy to see him. After all, even you can’t deny his striking good looks and charisma. While the two of them catch up, you stand by Geto, who’s searching the fridge for a beer. “How’s it going?”

He cracks open the can, taking a sip before answering. “Alright. We missed you at last week’s party. Everything okay?”

You smile at him, appreciating his concern. “Yeah, I just had to finish some projects.”

He leans against the counter, gazing at you with a smirk. “You know, Satoru was really excited for tonight.”

“Yeah? To celebrate Shoko?”

“That, and to see you.”

You raise a brow at him. “Me? Why me?”

He laughs softy. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

He hums, finishing his beer. “Maybe I should just let you figure it out for yourself.”

“Geto!” you whine, clinging to his arm. “Just tell me!”

He taps his finger to his lips, winking at you, not saying another word. When he continues to remain silent even after pestering him to elaborate, you leave him, trying to distract yourself by chatting with your sisters. No matter what you do though, your mind always goes back to Satoru Gojo. Why would he be excited to see youof all people? You sneak glances at him as he maneuvers through the party, his impressive stature and magnetic personality taking up most of the space in your small apartment. At least, that’s what it seems like. All your friends fawn over him, eyes sparkling with admiration and lust. All of them except for Shoko, who’s so used to him by now that she’s unfazed. 

You find your way back to her, cradling the half-empty vodka bottle in her hands. “Did Gojo help you with that?” 

She shakes her head. “Nope. This was all me. Besides, Gojo doesn’t drink.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Can you imagine all of that with all of this?” She waves the bottle in her hand. “Pretty sure he would explode.”

You chuckle, observing him further as he performs a party trick involving a blindfold and the beer pong table, successfully making each shot without being able to see. Pretty impressive. 

The night continues. Eventually, most of the liquor stocked in your fridge and cabinets is consumed. All your sisters are drunk, including Shoko, though she manages to maintain her composure well enough to stay up on her feet. Your place is a mess now, cups and cans littered on the floor, trash thrown everywhere except the actual bin, random articles of clothing draped over the couch and TV. It’s the stereotypical image of a successful rager, and unfortunately, it’s your mess to clean up. You don’t mind it too much, especially when Shoko gives you a big smooch on the forehead, thanking you again for hosting. She’s being held between Geto and one of your other sisters, who carry her out the door towards the sorority house where she lives. One by one, each sister thanks you with a loving embrace, all smelling sickly sweet from the liquor. 

Just when you think everyone has left, you’re surprised to see Gojo drag your garbage bin from the kitchen into the living room, bending down to pick up trash.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you tell him, rushing to his side.

“And leave you to deal with this on your own? Come on, I really don’t mind.”

You mutter a quiet, “Thanks,” surprised by his kind gesture. It almost makes you forget about your history together, until he teases, “I take cash or check for my services, by the way.” 

Normally, you’d roll your eyes at him, but this time, you laugh, tossing a few cups into the bin, playing along. “How much do I owe you?”

“Hm…I think I’ll let it slide just this once.” He looks up, grinning at you. There’s a spark for the quickest moment as you hold his gaze. 

Thanks to his help, you manage to get the apartment tidied within minutes. The two of you remain silent for the most part, music still playing in the background on your speaker. He hums along to the tunes he recognizes, picking up the last bits of junk from the floor while you wipe down your sticky kitchen counter. The both of you wash your hands thoroughly, satisfied with your work. 

As he dries his hands, you remember what Geto mentioned earlier. Deciding to be bold, you ask, “I heard you were excited to see me tonight. Is that true?”

A small smirk forms on his lips as he nods. “That is true, yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, leaning against the counter. “I just thought it’d be nice to see you. You are our sweetheart, after all.”

There he goes again, being so unserious. You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “Don’t bullshit with me, Gojo. I thought you hated me.”

“When did I ever say that?!”

“You didn’t have to! We’re always bickering over the simplest things. Like right now.”

“And who’s fault is that? You always get annoyed for no reason.”

“Oh, I have plenty of reasons to be annoyed by you,” you scoff, shaking your head at him. Of course your conversation would turn into another argument. 

He scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me and you. Always at each other’s throats. You hating me.”

You stare down at your feet, heat rushing into your cheeks. “I don’t hate you.”

He steps closer, towering over you. “But you don’t like me.”

You peer up at him, defensive. “Well, do you like me?”

He smirks, eyes softening as he stares down at you. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Ready to kick him out, you groan. “Ugh, there you go again, being such a fucking nuisance – ”

Before you can turn your back to him, he grips your wrist, pulling you in for you a kiss. His lips surround yours, warm and delicate against your mouth. “Is this a good enough answer for you?”

You don’t respond with words, but with another kiss instead, wrapping your arms around him to deepen it, tongues swirling around each other’s, desperate and needy. His hands are on your waist, thumbs brushing the plush skin of your belly. You moan into his mouth, gasping for breath. “Gojo.”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers, lifting you easily, sitting you up on the counter. He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants. 

“Waiting for what?” you ask, spreading yourself for him, already anticipating his answer. 

He bites his lip, slowly sliding the fabric down your legs, revealing your pretty panties. “To be alone with you.” He spreads gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs. “To have my way with you.” He nuzzles his nose to your clothed pussy, stimulating your clit. 

“And who says I’ll let you?” you huff, pretending to be defiant. You’re already wet, arousal seeping from your slit, pussy aching for him. 

He chuckles, hooking his finger around your underwear, exposing your sopping cunt. “Just look at you, sweetheart. Already so fucking juicy for me.” He puckers his lips around your clit, sliding his middle finger inside you, curving at the tip to reach your G-spot. 

You buck your hips, core tight with pleasure, eager for more. “Fuck!”

Spreading his tongue wider, he smears his saliva over your swelling bud. “You love this, don’t you?”

Bunching his hair in your fist, you shove him deeper into your cunt, rocking yourself on his face. 

“Fuck yeah,” he muffles, eating you out sloppily. “Ride my face. Come for me.”

He sucks on your clit, finger pumping in and out of you relentlessly until you orgasm, thighs squeezed around his cheeks as you ride it out. When you’re done, he licks you clean, collecting all of your cum on his tongue to drink it up. When he surfaces, a cocky grin spread on his face, he runs his thumb along his nose and chin, getting every last drop. 

Your pants are still pooled around your ankles, so you kick them off, leaving you completely naked from the waist down. “Fuck me,” you say, rubbing your swollen clit. 

“Yeah? That wasn’t enough for you?” he teases, stripping out of his bottoms, stroking his stiff cock in his fist. “You need to be filled up, huh?”

All you can do is nod as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you into your bedroom. He kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip, kicking open the door, tossing you onto the mattress. “How do you want it? Tell me.” His cock is hard in his hand, tip glistening with precum.

“I want to ride you,” you say, hoisting your top off, quickly unhooking your bra. 

His smile widens, crawling up the bed to position himself against the headboard. “That’s exactly what I want too.”

You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy along his shaft. He taps the tip against your clit, the lewd wet smacks driving you crazy. You guide him inside you until he bottoms out, nestling your ass comfortable onto his lap. 

“Fuck,” he moans, flicking his tongue on your nipple. “Give it to me, sweetheart. Make me come.”

You fuck him slowly at first, relishing the way his big cock fills you up. He sucks on your tits while you ride him, nipples perky between his lips. Soon, you’re fucking him faster, desperate to unravel him the way he did you. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it just like that. Don’t stop,” he whimpers, thrusting his hips in tandem with you. “Gonna make me nut so fucking hard.”

“Come for me, Gojo,” you breathe out, close to your second orgasm.

“You too,” he says, his thumb pressed to your clit. “Come with me, baby. Please.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, pussy tightening around him. He curses, shooting his load inside you, stuffing you full of his seed. He twitches beneath you, cock spurting every last pulse until he’s drained of energy and cum. You collapse on top of him, resting your face on his chest, catching your breath. 

After a brief moment of silence, the two of you listening to your own steadying heartbeats, he speaks. “Wow.”

You giggle, looking up at him. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“Because it’s the first time we’ve ever been alone. Not with my brothers, not with your sisters. Just me and you. I’ve been waiting to make my move this whole time.” He smiles at you, pinching your nose playfully. 

“Well, you waited too long,” you say, cuddling him.

“Better late than never, right?” He cradles you in his arms, snuggling you sweetly.