#but it wouldn’t the the first time someone showed interest and i completely fucked things when i didn’t even need to

[gregmarriage]

kinda got the #random urge to sabotage this before it’s even begun

[fear-is-truth]

ft. in-ho (001) ‧ hyun-ju (120) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ su-bong (230) ‧ se-mi (380) ‧ dae-ho (388) ‧ jun-ho

a/n — did these bc i was bored… english is not my first language, sorry if there’s any mistakes !

HWANG IN-HO (황인호) / PLAYER 001

in-ho doesn’t let his jealousy show. not even a twitch of the eye. when he sees someone flirting with you, his expression remains calm—maybe even a little amused. the mask never slips, but there’s something cold and calculating beneath it, like a viper watching from the grass.

he has a habit of always “coincidentally” being nearby. yeah.

in-ho knows exactly how to manipulate without being overt. he never accuses, never demands. instead, he asks harmless little questions like, “you two seem to be getting along well.”

and then, after a small pause—he adds, “be careful who you trust. some people don’t have your best interests at heart.” his tone is casual, but he’s planting seeds of doubt, nudging the situation just enough to make you second-guess. his gaze flickers briefly to gi-hun, like he’s searching his face for confirmation. am i right?

then, as if to break the awkward tension, in-ho lets out a light laugh. “i suppose you can’t completely trust us, either.”

tl;dr — man doesn’t always slip up, but when he does, he backtracks FAST

CHO HYUN-JU (조현주 ) / PLAYER 120

she’s a pretty straightforward and genuine, so her jealousy would come across in a very honest, but an insecure way. when she notices someone flirting with you, she won’t try to hide how she feels, though she also won’t cause a scene in front of them.

instead, she’ll try to naturally slide into the conversation, maybe offering a friendly smile or a casual comment just to insert herself without being too obvious.

afterward, when it’s just the two of you, she’ll admit that she didn’t like how things went. she’d be direct but still unsure, maybe looking away or fiddling with her hair as she confesses, “i don’t know… i didn’t like how they were talking to you. it made me feel… weird. i know it’s silly, but…” even though she’s admitting her feelings, she’ll follow it up with a self-conscious laugh, brushing it off in a way that makes it clear she doesn’t want to burden you, even if she just needed to say it.

NAM-GYU (남규) / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu’s jealousy is ugly. unlike thanos, who masks his irritation with forced camaraderie, nam-gyu doesn’t even try to hide it. the second he catches you talking—laughing—with someone else, his expression sours.

his eyes flick away like he can’t be bothered, but his irritation lingers in the small, compulsive gestures that follow. fingers twitch toward his face, rubbing his temple and dragging down his cheek in a slow, irritated motion as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying nasty. then, he tucks his hair behind his ear, fingers lingering at the ends before dropping back to his side.

tl;dr — just am interesting quirk i noticed lol

but later? when it’s just the two of you? suddenly, he’s different. as if the bitterness never existed in the first place. his hands disappear into the sleeves of his jacket, the fabric bunching at his wrists as he curls his fingers inside like paws. he tilts his head slightly as he leans closer, “y/n~” he drawls, dragging out your name. “why were you talking to them for so long? you’re not getting bored of me, are you?”

and the person who got a little too comfortable in your presence? yeah, they’re screwed.

nam-gyu doesn’t just make their life difficult—he makes it fucking dangerous. during games, he’s reckless with them. a sudden, well-timed shove at the worst possible moment. a convenient distraction that nearly gets them eliminated. nothing that can be traced back to him, of course.

when he passes their bunk, he gives a small shove to the back of their head as he walks by, the kind that makes it look like an accident, but it’s far from it.

CHOI SU-BONG (최수봉) / PLAYER 230

thanos wouldn’t be subtle about his jealousy—he’d be super obnoxious about it.

the moment he catches someone flirting with you, he’s all over them, acting like they’re best friends. throws an arm around their shoulder chummily, “my boy!” he grins, smacking them on the back so hard it nearly knocks the air out of them. his overall demeanour is playful, but there’s something off about it. like he’s sizing them up. like he’s deciding how much of a problem they’re about to become.

later, he and nam-gyu make it their personal mission to make their life even more miserable than it already is.

during mealtime, the person just so happens to trip right in front of everyone. maybe it’s thanos’ foot, maybe it’s nam-gyu’s—either way, they did a face-plant. thanos crouches beside them, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “damn, that must hurt,” he says, shaking his head. “maybe you should be more careful, yeah? how else are you gonna survive the next game?”

it doesn’t stop there. at the bunks, he and nam-gyu make a point of cornering them, bodies blocking any easy escape. thanos grins, “so, you’re real friendly with y/n, huh?” with nam-gyu smiling cutely menacingly in the background. if they try to shrug it off, he just laughs. “aw, don’t be shy! we love meeting new friends.”

if the poor bloke ends up alone in the men’s bathroom? bad luck. thanos is suddenly right there, leaning against the urinal stall, inspecting his colourful nails. “hey, man. funny thing…” his voice drops, and the humour is gone. “you don’t wanna make yourself a problem, yeah?” he doesn’t have to say it outright. the message is clear.

SE-MI (세미) / PLAYER 380

se-mi’s reaction is barely noticeable. when she sees someone flirting with you, her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes get a little colder, and she might look away, focusing on something else.

she might look at you for just a second too long, as if waiting for you to catch her gaze and understand without saying anything.

she doesn’t hold a grudge, but she definitely keeps her distance until she feels like you’ve figured it out on your own.

KANG DAE-HO (강대호) / PLAYER 388

when he sees someone flirting with you, dae-ho doesn’t get angry—he just feels a creeping sense of inadequacy settle in his chest.

if you try to talk to her after, her responses are polite, but there’s a certain sharpness to them—like she’s not fully engaged. every now and then, she’ll throw in a comment, maybe something about not trusting people easily or how “everyone has their own agenda,” but it’s all under the radar.

being the good-natured person that he is, dae-ho doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t push himself into the conversation. but if there’s a chance to naturally one-up them, he’ll take it. dae-ho’s jealousy is a bit more showy, but not in a malicious way. he straightens his posture a little more. rolls up his sleeve to expose the marine tattoo on his arm.

dae-ho isn’t one to sulk, but he goes quiet. fidgets more, rubbing the back of his neck, cracking his knuckles, anything to keep his hands busy. when he looks at your direction, it’s fleeting—like he’s afraid of seeing something he doesn’t want to.

he never lets it turn into resentment. dae-ho doesn’t want to be that guy, doesn’t want to make it your problem. but later, when it’s just the two of you, he gets a bit clingy.

HWANG JUN-HO (황준호)

a gentleman to his core, jun-ho’s jealousy doesn’t come with flare or outward signs. when he sees someone flirting with you, his smile remains polite, almost cordial. posture stays poised, tone respectful—nothing gives away the annoyance bubbling inside.

if the other person crosses a line—that’s when the temperature drops. a slow blink. a slight tilt of his head. a stare just sharp enough to unsettle. jun-ho doesn’t need words to make his presence known.

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

read part 2. here

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[binhourly]

Coming To Terms (+18)

Summary: What could go wrong when your love life involves bad sex, good imagination, and a best friend who seems like the answer to all your unspoken desires?

Word count: 11k

Tags: College Setting / Rom-Com / Slice of Life / Friends to Undecided

Pairing: Baseball Player!Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader

Trigger Warning:  Emotional Distress / Harassment / Stalking / Physical Intimidation (Seungmin is captain of the baseball team, his bat is practically his weapon) / Explicit Content / Men Being Pathetic / Aggressive & Threatening Behaviour / Vanilla Intercourse In The Beginning & Middle / Protective Sex / Crude Language / Character Re-imagined / Underwear Play / Verbal Aggression

Songs: i. Look At That Woman by ROLE MODEL ii. Love Is Embarrassing by Olivia Rodrigo

ALSO READ HERE

NOTE: Shoutout to the jerk who inspired one part of this scene—who wouldn’t leave me alone after he rejected me, got angry because I was unaffected by it, and alluded that if I cared about him enough, I would be heartbroken. Then he proceeded to trap me inside the girls’ bathroom. Hope campus security tasers you next time, you fucking weirdo. / excuse the ending. I was sadly a victim of school work overload and anything I wrote fell flat and I can't be bothered trying to re-work it the 100th time. so, yes it doesn't make a whole lot of sense and seems really rushed . . . live laugh love seungmin.

NO ONE was completely perfect—hell, if there was one thing you were sure about, it was that your own crappy life meant you also counted toward that same damn list too.

It wasn't about being uncritical, either. You had a lot to be angry at, starting with your new project partner, Felix, who insists he's clinically diagnosed with a gaming addiction, so it's crucial he takes 'Call of Duty' breaks in between studying.

It just came down to being hopeful, and having a lot of it.

For instance, if someone had waved a bunch of red flags in your direction, you'd notice it, maybe indulge in a small wiggle of your fingers back, because for some stupid reason, you have a bad habit of thinking their flaws, (controlling, inability to take accountability, lack of empathy) would magically iron themselves out over time. Or, your personal favourite—they'd burn the cloth enough it changes the alarming colour.

Spoiler alert: they never do. And now you're stuck with your mistake literally punching you in the gut—but more literal than metaphorical.

“Making you feel so good,” your boyfriend slurs into your shoulder, his awkward thrusting between your legs making the sentence appear as if he's hiccuping. “Changing—argh—your life.”

Dongmin was that small wish you sigh out at the end of a grace, something you know you're not supposed to say but get overwhelmed with the selfish need to want more. When he showed up, it was almost like the universe had heard you and decided, without any strings attached, “You know what? Sure, here's your dream guy.”

And god, was he absolutely perfect—and clearly your karmic invoice.

The first few weeks, he practically won your heart over by carefully remembering tiny details about your interests and insisted on carrying you on his back to ease the digging pain in your shin after your first date. (Looking back now, you can admittedly say you brought down your impenetrable wall too quickly, because the only way he changed the trajectory of your life was finding out he had the bedroom finesse of a teenage boy who giggled at genital diagrams in health class.)

Then the lights flick off, and he transforms into something clumsy but not inexperienced... just one-sided.

You've tried everything to loosen him up—lingerie, role-play, and toys—but at this point, sex to Dongmin was sticking it in, swirling it around a few times trying to chase his own high, and you're stuck watching a firework fizzle out just as the show's supposed to start. You know, a little “oh” that quickly becomes a “wait, that's it?”

He lifts himself up off you, a sheen of sweat clearly building down his chest after what has been barely two minutes. It gives you a better view of Dongmin, though, and you think to yourself you could work with this. Watching him rest his hands firmly on your raised knees and press them further apart to spear deeply into you would definitely build up that sweet pressure.

And sure enough, whines sob out of you so desperately, like a starved woman thankful for a grain of salt. “Baby, f—feels so good.” Your face flops to the side, mouth agape and drying the drool that slides down your chin. "Right there—ah uh!—keep it like that," you instruct him, hoping for what could possibly be your first orgasm.

This was it, his redemption arc; all it needed now was a friendly push. So, your fingers tickle past your bouncing breasts, landing at the base of your clit where you planned to rub circles while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Don't do that,” Dongmin objects through a grunt, swatting your hands away despite your quiet gasp of disappointment, entrapping them both above your head. He leans forward, stopping his thrusts. “I can make you cum with just my cock.”

Sadly, that hasn't happened yet, and it was hard to be hopeful when you knew exactly how it was going to end. He resumes, and just like you expected, Dongmin repositions himself, and the tight lull around your pelvis disappears, literally fucking retreats back into a little cobwebbed corner.

With him snuggled back into your shoulders, it allows you to catch sight of the ceiling, dissociating into several different thoughts. One that whispered loud asked if this was your punishment. Six months he made you wait. Six months of feeling like a princess before he finally gave in, and by then, you were so locked in emotionally that there was no way out. You liked him—loved him, even.

Damn.

“So close! Gonna... uh ah—cum." Dongmin grips your hips hard enough it leaves an unwanted ache, and before you could mouth out profanities for getting carried away, a hot feeling stews inside you along with a huff of air that sounds like he's struggling to breathe.

He came, how shocking.

He doesn't collapse next to you, just opts to awkwardly move over at the edge of the bed before treading to the rubbish bin in the corner, ripping the condom off his softening penis. It leaves you naked, swaddled in sheets, just quietly taking in that his day had now just become more bearable, while you'll spend the next week coming up with excuses to keep him away from any spacious surface to fuck against.

Dongmin climbs back by your side, his presence now not so pressuring. “You were so good, baby.” He trails his hands up your arm, making a shiver slither down your bare spine. “How was it? Was it any good?”he adds, his voice soft and hopeful.

For a brief moment, you consider telling him the truth—that he could touch up on a few areas to get better in bed. But even thinking about it made you shrink, like you were holding a fuse you lit yourself, waiting for the wick to burn the last inch before selfishly handing it over to Dongmin.

But, like always, at the last second when your people pleasing tendencies kick in, you throw all your weight to soften the explosion.

“It was perfect,” you whisper, the lie slipping out smoothly. His hands squeeze your thigh in response, a splitting grin spreading across his face.

“Really?” His eyes light up, pressing kisses into your cheek.

If life has taught you anything, it's that perfection is a myth. You knew that before Dongmin, and you sure as hell know it now. Sure, Dongmin was bad in bed, but who’s to say there wasn’t something about you that bothered him just as much? Maybe he loved you enough to let it slide. Maybe you were willing to do the same. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t about love at all, but about not knowing if you’d ever find something better.

“Yeah! You were amazing,” you lie again, and this time, it comes a little easier.

Spoiler alert, your mind whispers.

SEUNGMIN misses the next pitch, the ball ricocheting off the chain-link fence surrounding the batting cage with a hollow clang. "Wait—hold on." He turns toward you sitting cross-legged outside, eyes narrowing in focus at something other than his baseball training. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you complain about your boyfriend's... swing?"

You couldn't even remember when you let that secret slip.

One second, you were watching Seungmin wind up his bat over his shoulder for another hit, the end-of-the-day heat tinting his white ace uniform a baked yellow, and the next, words were tumbling out like you were in some kind of truth-telling trance. Shit.

Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, you shrug your shoulders. "I'm being serious."

Seungmin rests the length of his bat across his shoulders, arms slung causally over each end, trying his best to look moderately stern—or at least like he's mulling it over and coming up with helpful solutions. "What makes you think I'm not?" he says, raising his eyebrows in mock confusion.

But you weren't fooled for a second. You'd known the athlete for a total of three years, which gave you enough time to spot the signs—the barely-there twitch at the corner of his mouth, the bite down on his bottom lip.

"Relax..." Seungmin drags out his words, adding to his infamous bratty attitude with a classic eye roll that basically says you really should know better. "I'm not that evil to make fun of you for something that's—y'know... beyond your control. If I'm going to shit on someone, it'd be him for underperforming."

"But I don't think I want you throwing jabs at him," you start by saying, holding off from speaking further until Seungmin repositions himself away from you on the plate, giving you the perfect sight of his messy brown tuffs sticking out from under his cap rather than his judgy eyes, as he takes another practice swing. "It's wrong when he's been nothing but sweet to me."

Then came the ball shooting out the machine, a sharp clang, and instead of his usual clean hit, the ball bounces off his bat at a crooked angle, spiralling down into what could've been foul territory if this was a real game.

Seungmin spins back towards you, a clear sign of disbelief in his eyes at his second out ball. "See? This is what happens when you say stupid shit," he mutters, adjusting his cap backwards to give you the full extent of his annoyance. "It's like you're sucking all my talent away, one word at a time." He raises his bat, taking a few loose swings in the air as if to shake off your bad luck.

“Am I not allowed to defend my boyfriend?" you reply, an ache of defensiveness prickling your chest.

Seungmin lets out a low laugh, the kind that’s meant to sweetly correct your faults without fully crossing the line into being a downright douche—and maybe the way his teeth peek halfway underneath his pink lips could make you forget it was supposed to hurt. Or that it only came after you announced Dongmin was, in fact, your boyfriend.

“You can," he says, his tone a sharp lash despite its simplicity. Now that you think of it, Seungmin does seem more affected by your troubles than you expected. "But maybe save it for when he's worth defending. Like, when you can move past telling people he makes you happy just because he makes you laugh."

What the hell did Seungmin know about relationships? If this were any other Friday night—where the summer heat feels thicker from the countless bodies pressed up against each other and the cold beer does nothing but flush everyone's faces, the only contribution to a committed relationship Seungmin could get behind was being with a girl long enough until the song blaring out from the speaker ended. And then? Onto the next, all blurring together, sifting through the entire alphabet as the night dragged on.

Was she a Bora? Maybe a Susan? Not that it mattered. It always played out the same—Seungmin weaving through the crowd, a little disheveled, a little fucked-out, his familiar scent of citrus clinging to his skin like an afterthought. And then your heart tucks, knots, flips, only for you to turn around and realise—no, he’s not looking at you. Just another random girl brushing past drowning in his cologne.

So yeah, maybe Seungmin had a point. But what weight did his opinion really hold when it’s coming from someone who valued blowjobs over real, tangible connections. 

You press your hands behind you, leaning back slightly with a pouty lip, confused about what you were really frustrated about. "Not everything has to meet your weird, unrealistic expectations with your perfect checklist."

Seungmin scoffs, “No, but it’s the one thing you’re spiralling over right now.”

You sit up abruptly, mouth open, ready to argue—because obviously, he’s wrong—but nothing comes out. Because, unfortunately, he isn’t.

Seungmin smirks, like he was waiting for you to get caught in your own logic. “Oh? No defence? That’s new.”

You scowl, picking your legs up before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just—” You huff, looking away. “You don’t know everything, okay?”

“I don’t need to know everything. I know you.” He points the bat at you like it’s an extendable pointer in some lecture you definitely didn’t sign up for. “And I never said anything about being perfect. But he’s not exactly giving you something that sticks. Y’know, the stuff you can’t let go of.”

Your brows pinch together. “That makes no sense. People let go of bad things all the time.”

Seungmin snorts. “Right. But people still go back to their exes just to fight, or hate-fuck each other into oblivion. Not because it’s good for them—because it’s unforgettable. It gets under your skin and stays there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He steps back onto the plate, kicking his cleats into the ground, clearing out the backed-up dirt trapped inside the rubber.

“Dongmin has it all backwards,” he continues, more thoughtful now. “He gave you perfect first. No mess, no complications.’” He tilts his head. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

Your lips press together. “It is a good thing,” you insist, but even you hear how defensive it sounds.

Seungmin scoffs, unamused. “No, it’s suffocating.” He flicks his gaze back to you. “Or in your case, it’s got you sitting here, trying to convince yourself you’re the problem. Like you should be grateful to be with him.”

Your stomach twists—because, again, damn it, he’s not wrong.

"You sound pretty sure about that," you say, almost smiling but finding yourself hesitating. "Where's the perfectly formatted, alphabetical citation to all these theories, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Seungmin turns to you, his eyes—typically the blackest jade—now transforming into the softest chestnut under the sun, properly toasted to taste so sweet and earthy. "I am the citation. A living, breathing, walking HTTPS link."

You don't disagree; it's not like you can with his never-ending scroll of experiences. Of course, he knew more than you—the baseball player practically had every single girl on campus twirling their hair, waiting for the chance he might pick them again (the same crowd you were once among, quietly shoved in a corner—before you met Dongmin)

While Seungmin prepares for the next hit, you take a minute to fully come to terms with what's been said. Dongmin did give you everything, and you were more than grateful for that, but did he do anything that really snagged at your mind constantly? Sure, he occasionally bought you things or always let you eat the last bit of every delicious sweet because he was kind, thoughtful, and never gave you a reason to doubt him—but that was just it.

Sometimes, there'd be moments where you'd get so caught up in studying you'd forget to call or text him for days at a time, and it didn't bother you. When a girl was clearly flirting with him at the library—right there, barely a shoulder away from you—it didn't make you feel a thing—not jealousy, not irritation, not even the faintest twinge that the world could shift off its axis if he did ratify her advances.

All you could explain is the way the morsel memories managed to only piece together when you remember Seungmin happened to be there at that time, slithering right down into the seat beside her in his beige trousers and white dress shirt (his knight in shining armour away from his usual baseball uniform), hair clipped short and skimming the top of his forehead, stealing her attention away from Dongmin. And it worked, aggravatingly enough.

The girl completely forgot about your boyfriend. And you... well, you couldn't remember much else because you were too prickly from anger to realise the crack of a notebook slamming shut, echoing throughout the library, was from your own. Heads all turned. Yours stayed on the way her fingers had drummed on the empty space of his forearm where he rolled up a fourth of his sleeve, needing nothing but to leave before you flat out collapsed.

Later that night, Dongmin kissed your lips swollen, breathlessly mouthing how much he loved seeing you jealous over him. And if he believed it, you let yourself believe it too, because of course that's why you were so sensitive.

You move closer to the fence, letting your fingers curl around the wires. "Okay, what's your controversial hot take on this? What would you want me to do?"

Quickly, Seungmin replies—"You dump him. Obviously."

You reel back. "Have you not been listening to me this past hour?"

"I have. That's me taking everything in as your very supportive friend and giving you the most logical advice," he says with a deadpan expression.

Crossing your arms, you stare at the side of him, letting it trail down to his uniform tucked into his white trousers. "I don't like that one."

Seungmin adjusts his grip on the bat, keeping his eyes trained on the ball machine, waiting for the next surprise. "Okay... because you're basically teetering on the edge of sexual insanity, you can have my next thought free of charge."

You arch an eyebrow, hating the way he pauses for dramatic effect.

Seungmin bends his knees further apart, his voice dropping just enough you can feel it pulsating in-between your legs.

"Next time, think of me during sex."

You choke on absolutely nothing.

What the actual fuck? You weren't too sure you heard him correctly, and it explained through the way you racked your eyes to the side inconspicuously to see if anyone else had overheard and displayed an equally horrified look to his statement, just a smidge of utter disbelief. But you were the only one short-winded, a little hypnotised.

"That's... That's really gross—and seriously, just—weird, and wrong... you can't be—"

If he wasn't so focused, Seungmin would've done his infamous shrugs, completely unbothered as usual. "Just saying, I've got a 99% success rate of giving people what they want."

You barely have room to retaliate before the machine fires, the sound of his bat whooshing into your ear and a crack echoing across the field instantly playing out. Unlike the last two, the ball soars higher—farther—and as you follow the little white comet in the air, it hits the end trails of the field which felt weirdly coincidental to Seungmin's statement, because if this was like any other game where the fence wasn't placed around the playing ground, with an arena filled with students, the ball would have been called out as a—

“Home run,” someone mutters from another section, greatly impressed at his swing.

THE NEXT time you have sex with Dongmin is right after your last class on a late afternoon.

It wasn't spontaneous nor romantic, but you figure that being with someone for as long as you have it's already given proof that he loves you, which cancels out the need for heart-shaped petals on the bed and replaces grand gestures with stale, pre-planned texts.

Dongmin: Need you right now, baby

Dongmin: Think you can make it in 10?

Your eyes flick quickly between the two messages, your nose scrunching the lines of your face, which suggested your clear irritation at his wish. But as natural as it came, so did that same nauseating feeling that you were being too judgmental—a little too mean when he hadn't done anything even mildly wrong for you to turn him down.

You: If I run I could probably get there in 6

You: But I won't do it without a little please ;)

Shoving your phone into your back pocket without checking his response, you start walking to the student dormitories, appreciating that, even though the bigger problem is only minutes ahead, it still leads you under the campus's brick arch into the sprawling oval field where students lounge on the grass during their breaks. It gives you a moment of false peace—that maybe, just maybe, you're like everyone else, heading out to do anything but have mediocre sex.

When you slip inside his room, it only takes a quick peck on the lips to kick-start his libido. You'd barely leaned back before he nudged closer, his hands racing to your face before smothering you in a deeper, hungrier kiss.

It completely took you by surprise how feverish he was being. It was impossible to think straight when his tongue was basically poking every corner of your mouth, while his hands were sneaking under your shirt, ignoring the sweat build-up on your back from your little walk.

Dongmin had just sat through a three-hour lecture about marketing strategies—did product placements make him this horny?

You giggle into his mouth at the ridiculous thought, and it's like someone shoved a drain stopper into Dongmin's rushing sink of hormones.

He pulls back, frowning slightly, eyes wandering in a way that showed he was clearly offended that you weren't taking his sexually aroused state seriously enough. "What's funny?"

Your face heats. "Nothing! I'm just—" you hesitate, bringing his face closer, peppering the trace of his lips with quick kisses to coax him out of thinking too deeply. "I'm just being silly."

It works in your favour because Dongmin gets caught up in the web of your so-called addicting taste, his arousal taking over without a second thought. His hips fall into this automatic rhythm, rutting into the open space between your legs like it's instinctive—like he doesn't even realise he's doing it.

You sigh into his mouth, deciding to enjoy the little bits and pieces of pleasure you can grab before things inevitably go south. If you were going to make this work, foreplay would have to be your life line. Because the biggest misconception about sex is that it's rarely as groundbreaking as foreplay. What most girls really want is the build-up. The kissing, the grinding, the maddening tease of never quite getting there.

It's the burn without the release.

"But I want to know," he insists with an incredulous look, head angling away, leaving a huff of an aggravated moan in the air from you.

You bite your lip, stalling, before blurting, "I'm just trying to figure out what got you so..." Your words trail off as your hands flap in the useless space between the two of you, miming something you can't quite put into words. "Like... this."

Dongmin lets go of you, the feeling from earlier while briskly walking around campus—free—climbing back into your chest. Without a word, he moves to the bed, slumping down with his legs parted just enough to make the tent in his pants... obvious, arms bracing behind him on the mattress.

"It's Seungmin," he says finally, voice low and dejected, like the mental image of the baseball player pained him.

You blink. Seungmin? Your Seungmin?

The statement hits you like a curveball to the face, the hard-stitched leather completely derailing whatever thoughts were left swirling around in your pretty but concerned brain. The confession was so unprompted that it left the words tumbling out of your mouth without proper discretion.

"Seungmin made you hot and bothered?"

"What? No!" he blurts, eyes widening in complete horror. "That's not—how did you even come to that conclusion?"

"I don't know!" you rush in, pointing an accusatory finger towards Dongmin. "We were just swapping spit, and I asked you a question—I mean, you can't really get the wrong idea when you build it up like that."

You hadn't intended to be funny, but the response made the hard marks in Dongmin's features soften enough before he lets out an involuntary exhale that borders on an amused laugh.

Still, something lingered. The sight of Dongmin, typically so composed, with an endless amount of patience in his tool belt, sitting there so visibly nerved and upset felt... different. The open window that haloed a buttery tint above his head couldn't pin back that same warmth.

You pad across the room, steps deliberately slow, allowing yourself to stop between his parted thighs. This was a new experience. Within the time frame of your relationship—which would be exactly a year, a month from now—you'd never really had to deal with this. And that's not to say you were unwilling to help swat away the eventual clouds raining above his head, it was just that after spending so many perfect days, having something other than that unsettled you, like seeing a flower wilt at its peak in the middle of spring.

And maybe that's why you didn't ask him what was wrong. You weren't sure how. Instead, staring down at him, you nudge your knee into his open ones. Once. Then again. A little harder each time, until his lips twitch slightly, smearing back that familiar smile.

"You're annoying." Dongmin clasps his hands around the back of your knees, murmuring softly, and it's supposed to reach deep—the feeling of his touch—but it barely tingles.

"And you're a little grumpy," you shoot back, nudging him again for good measure, and before you can process it, Dongmin uses the leverage of having his hands at your weak point to his advantage, and in one fluid motion, he lifts you up slightly despite being in a sitting position and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, a familiar weight pressing above you.

This would've been the perfect moment to capture inside a cute mason jar and hold up as a reminder each time you got that nagging poke in your gut that doubted if you had any real connection with your boyfriend. But despite the compromising position, the only thing disrupting your thoughts was how you could bring the conversation back to Seungmin without indirectly implying anything.

"What does Seungmin have that I don't?" you say playfully, intending for his reply to be as predictable as the baseball player not having a set of perky tits—the typical train of thought for boys in their early twenties.

"He has you."

There's a beat of silence. "What?"

To keep the mood moderately light-hearted, Dongmin blows hot air onto your face, the rush gently moving a strand of hair away from your eyes. "I bumped into him earlier today," he answers finally, voice dazed, keeping his stare trained on the roundness of your lips as if they're the most fascinating thing in the room. "It was weird because he usually avoids me, but he wanted to talk to me about something."

You nod your head in a vague attempt to look attentive, but your mind escapes this current reality and transports itself back two days ago at the baseball field, where Seungmin looked aggravated by the combination of the sun and the coach's reliance on his skills, and you happened to carve the first smile into his lips after telling him how Dongmin has failed to make you cum.

It wasn't like Seungmin would've told Dongmin. He was many concerning things, but the most valuable quality he had was the tendency to lock your most humiliating confessions behind an impenetrable vault. But that didn't mean his unprompted hangout with your boyfriend was sheer coincidence. It was a built idea, one that probably came to him in the morning and continued to amuse him for hours before he spoke to Dongmin. You can picture it so clearly—every little comment Seungmin would've made laced with his trademark brand of backhanded politeness, each one just toeing the line between friendly banter and deliberate belittling—enough for him to fully relieve himself of his quiet hatred for your boyfriend.

"There's a fundraiser his team needed help promoting to get sponsors, and apparently I have just the right qualifications for it," Dongmin explains, the request shockingly normal.

"And that should explain this?" You blink up at him, his weight growing more suffocating the longer it's pressed into you.

Dongmin chuckles lightly, his fingers lazily coiling a strand of your hair as he speaks. "Yeah—well... the conversation somehow, kinda drifted... towards you."

There it was. The sudden rush of tingles sweeping through your body, sitting uncomfortably hot on your cheeks at being mentioned when you weren't present, wondering what Seungmin had possibly said. And why you grew more lightheaded at the sound of each syllable in Seungmin's name being spoken in your thoughts. No, it's definitely not from that.

"How come you never told me you spent last Christmas holidays with his family?" Dongmin's voice cuts through. From the way it squeezes past his lips, it tells you more than enough that the question was only a placeholder for something else he was worried about.

You fidget slightly under his gaze, your fingers playing with the silver pendant dangling from his necklace. "Because... I didn't think it was important. We weren't together then, and Seungmin and I were already good friends. It wasn't unusual for us to do things like that with our families."

The furrow of your brow appears at seeing the bare distaste on his face at hearing about your friendship with the baseball player. "Hey... if I could go back in time, I totally would've said no. Like, 'Sorry, I can't come. Why? Well, it's because the gravitational pull of my future boyfriend's aura is too strong and he wouldn't want me there.'"

Dongmin was never possessive. He was more the type to find pleasure in flaunting you rather than keeping you hidden, so hearing the comical inflection around the scenario made him feel sheepish enough to drop down and smush his face into your neck.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin. It takes a moment for him to string together what really made him upset—or rather horny. "Just with the way he talks about you... it's different. Like he's known you forever, and will forever know you better than I do." Dongmin huffs, the pout in his voice strong. "I can't compete with that. All the stuff we do now—getting coffee together, staying up late to help you study—it doesn't feel like it's enough in comparison. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm supposed to be your boyfriend, but wherever Seungmin is, I'm... falling short somehow."

That's why he was bothered. The stories made Dongmin jealous, which led him to do the only thing that could reassure him that Seungmin couldn't follow—sex.

"Why would you think that?" you ask, voice gentle but angry. "That's far from the truth, or—or the reality, even." Holding onto his head, you pull Dongmin up enough to look at you. "Have I known Seungmin a lot longer? Sure. But I've never thought of him that way. If anything, me choosing you should already tell you who I wanted."

Dongmin smiles faintly, the soft, content look on his face a dizzying comparison to his sharp canines. He believes you like he always does. But that's the problem, isn't it? With everything you've said behind his back, the lie should be apparent. Because within your boyfriend's insecurities, there's a truth to it—not consciously at least, just in the way there's always been a stupid crack that opens wider every time Seungmin is mentioned, and you've done nothing but ignore the water at your feet.

Yet he stares at you with so much unguarded affection, it twists your stomach into a knot that will never unravel.

"I love you," he says then.

Overwhelmed by the sudden confession, you pull him in, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss so desperate it puts his previous hormones to shame.

It's not like you weren't expecting this—how could you not? You'd spent the last few months rehearsing those same three words in your head, tonguing around each letter to get rid of the uncomfortable taste it came with. And maybe he was ready for that, but you weren't. So, this was the best you could do for now without giving him something flimsy, and like so many other times, you squeeze your eyes tight, trying to find that trapdoor in your mind and disappear down it, to a wonderful place where all the memories of Dongmin should fill in.

Seungmin. Your thoughts whisper.

The next few minutes, there's a hurried struggle to remove all of your clothes, and by the time your underwear rolls up in a ball beside his bed, Dongmin is already inside you, huffing pleasurable moans into your gaped mouth each time he feels you clamp around his cock.

"God! Keep doing that," he urges you.

You had no control over why you kept tensing around him—whether it's your body's intrinsic search for something more. And you don't figure it out until your mind slips again before you can stop it, and, like a metal detector, the thought of Seungmin's name is the sand-crusted jewellery, and you clamp down once more.

No, it's not about Seungmin. You're sure of it. Absolutely, hundred fucking percent.

Dongmin presses closer, his pace less magnifying and more like he couldn't commit to finishing a thrust. "You're so perfect," he whispers into your shoulder, but the words barely ignite anything.

Perfect.

That word was the bane of your existence. All you did your whole life was believe that every relationship dripped down to one single thing—perfection. But maybe Seungmin was right. Perfect didn't leave room to grow. Perfect didn't let you argue over the dumb things, laugh too loudly, or cry over the important ones. Perfect didn't let you mess up and make it better. Perfect was a plain room, and Dongmin had locked you inside it, too afraid to decorate.

Imperfection meant freedom, and you felt it in every harsh word Seungmin ever threw your way, in every argument that left you winded, in every moment you ached for him to pull you back. That heart-wrenching need to keep him close, to hear the rawness in his voice when he asked for your forgiveness.

Seungmin.

You shut your eyes, wrestling back your brain tooth and nail to focus on the moment—on Dongmin rutting into your core with a determination to leave a clear indent of his cock inside you, on his hands on your hips, his soft grunts—

Seungmin.

Again, his name skids into your head like a car caught spinning in the rain. But it's too late to banish the thought, because your mind has already conjured up the image of Seungmin at the batting cage—cap backwards, sleeves rolled up, arms flexing each time he swings his bat, with the lethal combination of his slit eyebrow and that cocky little smirk lingering after every comment.

You whine out loud, your body betraying you as it holds onto the memory of what Seungmin said, but to make it seem like you're putting in the extra effort to not commit mental infidelity, the "Next time, think of me during sex" line sounds a lot like an impression of Dobby the elf.

And, dear God, that doesn't even work,

"Oh—oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!" you gasp out, your voice higher in pitch than you'd like. The familiar feeling of a tight pressure builds low in your belly, but it doesn't ebb away like it normally does, and your whole body continues to roll in heat, before your back arches sharply, and the sudden crash of pleasure is unexpected but so deliciously good.

Dongmin finishes soon after, and whilst you both sit in complete silence on the mattress, bathing in your post-orgasm sweat, you shortly come to terms with two new predicaments in your life.

One, being that you actually came thinking about Kim Seungmin.

Two, being that you actually fucking liked it.

THE SUN was barely in the sky when Seungmin—who seemed to have been taught to express all of his frustration outwards—ordered the entire baseball team to run a hundred miserable laps around the campus field to make whatever was floating around his mind less pressing. They all fell behind one another but in disorientating lines, the soles of their cleats cutting into the damp morning grass.

On a normal day, Felix would've been out there too (doing his usual half-assed attempts at the warmups). Instead, he was currently lounging inside the dugout, relaxing his legs but firing his thumbs as they rapidly tapped on his phone screen.

No one—absolutely no one—was getting any sympathy out of Felix today.

"Eat a dick! Actually, eat two motherfucking girthy ass dicks and choke on it!" Felix curses with the volume of a grandparent on a phone call—just loud enough to reach beyond the glow of his fluorescent screen. In the blonde boy's defence, playing Call Of Duty was just as exhausting when you get teamed up with shitty shooters.

Seungmin, who had been monitoring the boys near the dugout, turns back to stare past his shoulder, arms still crossed in front of him with an intense scowl, as if to silently explain to Felix that whatever had pissed on his mood originally, he had managed to lift his leg and make it worse. "Remind me again why you can't practise today?"

"I actually woke up with a deadly cough," Felix responds, voice thick with offence and a badly constructed lie. "If you don't believe me, you can call up coach during his meeting and he'll tell you how it sounded pretty contagious. Enough to keep me benched until next week."

A muscle ticked in Seungmin's jaw. "Then why are you sitting here? Go be sick in your own bed."

"Can't," Felix says, a needle deep in his voice, as if the explanation to whatever he was doing should've already been threaded together by now. "If I go back now, I won't be able to use 'practice' as an excuse to get out of finishing the group assignment I've got with (Y/N). If I'm here? I'm sick but committed."

Even from where the blonde boy was sitting, he still caught onto the way Seungmin's mood turned into something closer to irritation, the kind that felt a little too personal. Now, Felix had seen Seungmin mad plenty of times (he had that one incident to refer to—when their actual pitcher, Jisung, threw out his arm right before a match and Felix had been shoved onto the mound as the last-minute replacement. And, well, as everyone could've guessed from someone with only shortstop experience, every ball he fired went sailing high and dangerously close to the batters' faces. After about the third near-decapitation, the umpire didn't buy the "bad aim" excuse anymore and disqualified their team for allegedly trying to take out the competition), but this was different, like he had forgotten Felix was naturally carefree because it seemed to involve a certain someone.

Oh. Now that's interesting.

"Did you ever pause and think she's basically running herself into the ground because you can't bother to lift a finger?" Seungmin presses further, his typical mask of pretending everything you did hadn't affected him one way or another slipping.

"Woah, I figured this reaction would've come out of Dongmin sooner or later." Felix grins, knowing better than to speak the devil's name within the circumference of Seungmin. Why? Well, nobody knew. Dongmin had been what most people called plain, from the way he looked down to his major. But there was a reason why the ace player always tightened his fist, ready to swing first at the mention of that name. And maybe Felix had his own suspicions.

Stepping back into the open field, Seungmin speaks quietly, but a dangerous sort that gives his words a bite. "Him? That asswipe is just another growing problem for her to deal with on top of everything else."

With a dismissive eye roll, Felix starts another round, the very obnoxious sounds of murder coming out of his phone not as loud as the barking orders Seungmin dishes out.

Whatever. The blonde boy was a nutrition science major, not a goddamn psychologist to pinpoint his issues. Actually, he did know, and thought that sleeping with every moving organism on campus because you can't have the one person you wanted was beyond stupid, but Felix had no intention of caring.

Suddenly, the shrilling vibration of a phone is felt underneath his thigh. "Someone's phone's ringing!" Felix announces, shifting slightly because, somehow, the rectangular object had ended up in the most uncomfortable spot, all while simultaneously concentrating on his game.

"Who is it?" Seungmin yells out, squinting his eyes at Felix.

"How would I know? I'm kinda in the middle of beating my highest kill score here," the blonde boy fires back, his tone making it sound like he's the one being inconvenienced.

There's a mere second of peace before the phone buzzes again, shooting tingles down Felix's leg.

"They're still calling, and it's vibrating against my ass," he grumbles. "Dude, if I move, it might buzz right into my rectum."

Shifting in the opposite direction to get the phone to slide out from underneath him, he manages to dislodge it just enough to catch the end pieces of the caller ID.

"Wait, hang on. The vibrations are spaced out. I think they're texting."

Exasperated, Seungmin responds, "Felix, I swear—"

"Oh, shit." From the awkward angle he twisted himself into, where he managed to support himself on the bench with only one butt-cheek, Felix finally reads out the mysterious caller, his interest piquing now that he knew whose phone was suffocating under him this whole time. "It's from (Y/N). Actually, scratch that—it's from (Y/N) with a red heart emoji."

That finally gets Seungmin's attention, immediately stopping his coaching. "What does she want?"

Something tells Felix he's about to interfere in the same business he pledged never to care about. But who could blame him for eavesdropping, or wanting small context clues? Felix swipes up and exits out of his screen, picking up the coverless phone.

Clearing his throat, he reads aloud: "Please, I need your help." Full stop. "Dongmin won't leave me alone." Full stop. "I'm in building 56 toilets. Meet me there and I'll explain everything." Full stop, end of text."

Felix hadn't noticed when Seungmin barged back into the dugout, eyes wide and laser-focused. He only realised the ace player was there when bags and equipment started getting thrown around in a frenzy.

Standing up with an alarmed look, Felix spoke with a quiver in his voice. "Whoa, whoa, what're you doing?"

Seungmin grabbed a baseball bat nestled inside one of the team's bags, and the blonde boy quickly jumped to his own conclusion. "Oh my god—wait, wait, wait! Is that for me?"

He swallowed and raised his hands defensively, finding Seungmin's hurried breaths through his nose far scarier than any horror movie Felix had ever watched—which, for reference, wasn't a lot.

“Look, I know what I said before about procrastinating and just being an all-around idiot, but I did start the project! I swear I'm halfway done, actually! And I don't have a problem with (Y/N). I think she's a really sweet girl—very studious—"

Seungmin levelled the bat to Felix's face, his withering glare the only restraint he had left. It conveyed all the anger he held for the blonde boy, wordlessly warning him that if he ever disrespected you again, Seungmin wouldn't take it lightly.

"That's great, Felix. Wanna test how far your responsibilities can go?"

Felix watched as Seungmin roped the coach's whistle off his neck before chucking it at Felix's chest, leaving him to instinctively put his hand out to catch it.

"Take over. Keep the team running laps until I'm back, or have them do drills."

"Wait, what? You're not serious?"

Perplexed by the new shiny toy in his hand, Felix's panicky eyes tread straight, following to where Seungmin jogs away, his hand fisting in the middle of the bat shaft. "Dead serious," Seungmin calls back, not even sparing a glance. "Don't let anyone stop."

The sun settled high into the sky, a summer morning more believable now with the widespread of uninterrupted blues. Jeongin, the team's known head case player, skids to a stop mid-lap, his chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees, black hair glued down by his over-pouring sweat. "What's happening? Are we stopping?"

This morning, Felix happily skipped to practice with a fake cough and the dreams of playing electronic games until the afternoon. But now, the weight of his newfound authority felt a lot heavier than the stupid little whistle in his hand. "Maybe... no... I guess—look, I don't know how this works."

The baseball team surrounds Felix in seconds, centring him like a yolk inside an egg, and maybe that metaphor hit too close to base, because all their eyes glazed over with pure intent to pass on all their anger from Seungmin's morning boot camp onto Felix.

     Great.

SEUNGMIN COULDN'T stop feeling angry. Even with the very concerning text messages you'd sent, his skin tingled with so much annoyance as he rehearsed exactly how to bring up the fact that you'd been ignoring him for a week.

What made it worse was that the ace player was just the right type of insufferable—someone careless and casual with people's emotions because, well, they weren't his to deal with. He never chased after answers—God, nothing was more pathetic than running around trying to piece together an explanation. He'd much rather wait until they cracked first, coming to him with whatever drama they had bottled up.

But then he thought back to that day in the small theatre room no one used anymore. You'd been sitting in one of those carpeted red chairs out of a row of twenty, minding your business, before looking up, spotting him, and abruptly shoving your lunch back into your bag like his presence ruined your appetite. Then, just like that, you were gone, leaving without so much as a single word—except maybe for that hiss of pain after you missed a step and fell to the floor, giving yourself rug burns.

Now, the irony was that the same guy who swore he'd never run after someone, was practically chasing after you, breaking every one of his rules, because waiting wasn't an option.

When Seungmin reaches Building 56, he barely spares the elevator a glance—it would take too long. Instead, he flings open the emergency exit door and takes the stairs, skipping two steps at a time.

Coming up the last staircase, the noise of someone crying hits him first. Who it belonged to was hard to figure out, as a huge crowd of students flooded the main corridor, their curiosity clearly outweighing their need for personal space. The hallway was so packed that some had to squeeze past the emergency exit door, spilling into the stairwell just to get enough room to watch whatever was going on.

"Fuck... Seungmin's behind me."

The whisper was barely audible, only meant for that person's friend to hear. But like dominos, heads started turning, shoulders stiffening, and within seconds the crowd perfectly split down the middle. It might've been the bat clenched in his hand that scared them enough to move, but something told the baseball player they were shoving him out, knowing well enough he had something to do with whatever was on the other-side.

When Seungmin broke past the last person, the centre purposefully emptied out in front of him. All he saw was a sobbing Dongmin, hunched over on the floor like he'd taken a severe beating to his stomach. "I can't leave, not until you talk to me!" Dongmin yells out, inching his head upwards, noticing the low-hanging snot dribbling past his reddening lips.

This was so humiliating. Seungmin had to resist the urge to just turn around and leave Dongmin there to choke on his own spit. But he obviously couldn't—not when you were basically stuck inside the bathroom and Dongmin couldn't stop yelling at the door.

He immediately heads over, a glowered look on his face. "What did you do to her?" Seungmin speaks in an accusatory tone.

"To her?" Dongmin croaked out, the crack in his throat making it clear he couldn't believe Seungmin was so quick to point the finger at him even when he looked miserable. "What about what she did to me? She ruined me."

Seungmin shook his head in disbelief, his grip tightening on the bat as Dongmin lurched forward, finding his balance on his folded knees like a desperate man pleading his case. "All we did was have sex—really, really great sex—and then she broke up with me an hour later. Over text."

Dongmin motions to the bathroom door, his expression twisting wildly as if he were handing the ace player the key to some grander mystery. But Seungmin didn't care whether or not he was telling the truth. Not even a little.

"She's the fucking problem!" Dongmin spat, his voice cracking with frustration.

"Careful with the fucking swearing," Seungmin shot back, giving him a warning look—a little head tilt paired with a raised brow. "Now, I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but you're obviously not in the right headspace to fix this—not like this, and definitely not with half the school watching."

"If you're telling me to leave, I'm not going." Dongmin shook his head furiously, his fists clenching at his sides. "She needs to come out here and give me a good, believable reason why she broke up with me. Something that makes sense."

Seungmin's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, his voice dropping into a mutter as he leaned forward slightly. "I can think of one already."

Before Dongmin could respond, Seungmin took a step closer and crouched down, levelling their eyes. His tone turned dangerously calm, the edges of his words razor-sharp. "Here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to stop crying. Yeah, that's step one. And then, you're going to sit here quietly like a good boy while I go in there and talk to her. After that, we'll get to the bottom of this—without me having to use my bat on you."

Dongmin flinches a little, fear caught in his brown eyes. "That's a joke... right?"

"For now." Seungmin's response made the fight in Dongmin's posture cripple.

He stands up, walking towards the bathroom door. The door didn't have one of those outside handles you could yank on—just a push plate—but he could picture you on the other side, probably bracing it with your whole body, determined to keep Dongmin from slipping in.

Seungmin doesn't bother knocking. Instead, he leans in close, lowering his voice as he quietly calls out, "It's me. Can I come in?"

Quickly, the door flings open. "I'm so glad you came!" you exclaimed, not giving Seungmin the opportunity to see the state you were in before pulling him into a hug that was equally aggressive, as the ace player felt his back smack against the now closed door.

All his previous anger almost dissolved at the feeling of your body against his. Almost. You finally release Seungmin just enough to look at you, and it takes all his willpower not to visibly wince at the fact one of your false lashes hung unnaturally close to your cheek, and your lipstick was smudged enough to suggest either an emotional breakdown or a very aggressive make-out session. Or maybe a weird combination of the two.

"You got a little," he starts slowly, vaguely pointing to it, before giving up and motioning to your entire face. "Something everywhere."

You gasp, dramatically spinning to the bathroom mirror. "Oh, God." You peel off the struggling lash and place it delicately on the sink. "I didn't even notice until now—do you think I looked like this while talking to Dongmin?"

"Isn't he your ex-boyfriend now? You're way past the point of that being your priority." Seungmin says it pointedly. There's something unreasonably satisfying about saying it out loud—ex. He does it mostly for himself, but the way you react to it, how your hand stills mid-wipe as you clear away your messy eyeliner, meeting his gaze through the mirror like you're equally caught off guard, excites him.

You blink, exhaling sharply before turning back to him. "How much did he tell you?"

The baseball player shrugs, taking the opportunity to lean his bat up against the wall. "I just heard that you guys broke up."

"That's a lie." You quickly correct him, sounding breathless, like you still haven't caught up with the whole situation yet. "Dongmin’s been telling the whole school that I couldn't even let his post-nut clarity settle before I called it off. You know, just say you do..."

Seungmin doesn't answer right away. He's too distracted by how utterly out of place he looks here. The girl's bathroom mirror isn't even high enough for his build, cutting off the top of his head completely, but when you're reflected in it, everything frames you just right, allowing him to catch the way your fingers tighten around the sink behind you, white-knuckled, like you're holding onto your embarrassment there, over the idea of him knowing anything at all.

"Yeah, okay. But that's not why I'm here." Seungmin shifts against the doorframe, arms crossed, voice completely void of concern. "I couldn’t care less about his problems. I came here with a solid proof getaway plan, and it's yours if you tell me the real reason why you ghosted me for a week."

That's a lie. Obviously. He didn't have a plan—at least, not a good one. But he would've helped you regardless, no matter how much you refused to explain yourself. Because Seungmin knew you. And if you were willing to subject yourself to the absolute humiliation of having your sex life on display outside a public bathroom, then unlawful assault was about to be the least of your worries.

You don't miss a beat. "You're not being serious."

Seungmin cocks his head, cap pressing against the short strands of his fringe, an unimpressed scowl settling across his face.

"Need I remind you," you say, tone clipped, "that there's a fully grown man outside this door, crying so hard he stops momentarily to gag, and he won't let me leave?"

You throw a finger toward the entrance, as if the pitiful, hiccupping sobs weren't already obvious enough. As if on a comedic cue, Dongmin whimpers out a weak little, "Hello?" from the other side. Seungmin—who had, up until this point, been resting against the door—responds with a sharp kick against it.

The baseball player doesn't even acknowledge it before moving on. "Did he get jealous about our friendship or something? Told you not to talk to me anymore?"

—"What? No, god, no."

—"Did he... like... finish in seconds instead of minutes?"

—"That would've made you so happy."

—"Is he gay?"

—“No—stop it. I'm not answering anymore.”

—“If he didn't do anything, did you do something?”

—“What does that even mean?”

—“I don't know, you tell me.”

Seungmin had enough sparring words in him to keep going until you broke, but after his last comment, you didn't even try to reject him. That, combined with the heavy silence stretching between you in the already-cramped bathroom, was enough for the baseball player to come to his own conclusion.

You did, in fact, do something.

And from the looks of it—your real lashes clumped together with wetness, not from sadness, but raw, unrelenting frustration. Like you were pissed at yourself for trying so hard to hold yourself together, only to break anyway.

Seungmin sighs deeply. He decides he'll tuck his own stubbornness faraway for now. The baseball player pushes off the wall and reaches for your wrist, noticing a not so inconspicuous tug back from your arm, as if his very hands were lit on fire and even being mere centimetres from him could leave deep burns. Either that or you were still very much angry that Seungmin’s default setting wasn’t to help you, but to clear away his own agenda.

“We won't do this here." Seungmin grumbles, tugging the cap off his own head—it's his most worn item to date, safely perched on his nightstand every single day since freshman year, ready to grab whenever he heads out the door—and smoothly places it over yours. But he doesn't stop there. His fingers linger at the brim, purposely tugging it lower so the edge dips past your eyes, effectively working to block the view of anything really.

"There." He steps back, watching you awkwardly try to beam up at him from beneath the shadow of the cap. It stuns Seungmin for a moment when he notices his chest tightening. Oh. “That's your magical cloak. Now you don't have to see them, and they don't get to see any part of you."

You purse your lips, clearly thinking. "Okay, that solves one issue," you say slowly, lifting your hands and flailing them dramatically in the open space in front of you. “But, um... I can't see shit, which is terrible if I also need to, y'know... walk.”

“Just trust me.” Seungmin says it simply, darting his fingers out, keeping his growing irritation to a minimum as he watches you hesitate yet again. "Keep your head down and watch only my hands. Nothing else."

He moves closer to the bathroom door, but pauses when he feels a different kind of heat bloom against his palm. He whirls back with a final look of surprise, only to find the brim of his hat staring back at him—attached to what looks like a rather convincing Sim character, standing frozen, waiting for the next task.

“Ready?”

There's a large intake of air. “No... does that mean we're fucked already?”

THERE ARE shards of glass slicing up your lungs as you rest against a darkly coated wooden desk—metaphorically this time, of course. The whole idea of Seungmin being the school’s golden arm had momentarily escaped you the second he bolted with you in hand. If you had remembered—instead of worrying about Dongmin grabbing onto your ankles—you wouldn’t have agreed, and maybe you wouldn’t be here, tasting iron in the back of your throat. Stupid.

When you finally manage to look up, a hand pressed into your side to keep the stitch from fully forming, the setting around you forces a breathy laugh from your lips, thick with irony.

The boy’s locker room.

How fitting that just minutes ago, you had Seungmin trapped inside the girl’s bathroom, and now he’s returned the favour—stepping past rows of open lockers and the souring smell of sweat, just to lock you up inside the coach’s office.

“Was your boyfriend always this pathetic?” Seungmin is the forgetful one this time. He stands with his back against the door, as if the large window panel beside it hadn’t already given away the perpetrators inside the tiny room, with a certain weight in his eyes despite his joking tone. It makes you wonder whether it’s just another one of his calculated questions, designed to get you to say exactly what he wants.

You gulp before stating, matter-of-factly, “You mean ex-boyfriend.”

And saying it should hurt—should feel like a sharp reminder that there’s now a gaping hole in your chest. But instead, it gets mistranslated in the way you tip back to sit further up on the desk, letting your Mary Jane-clad feet swing from a table that’s probably seen more balled fists slammed down in anger than anything else.

“No. That’s why everything he’s doing now surprises me.” The second the words are out, they hang wrong in the air. You’re doing it again. Giving him the benefit of a doubt he’s never earned. Instantly, your mouth curls, and before you know it, you fall into Seungmin’s trap one way or another. “Actually, you know what? Yeah. He’s so fucking pathetic.”

You lock eyes with the baseball player, gripped by this strange urge to unload a year’s worth of frustration onto him—the same way his coach expects his bat to hit a home run every time. And you don’t know if it’s because he looks strong enough to take it, or because you want to see if he’ll break. See if he’ll finally get angry at you.

“Dongmin has been pathetic since the night I tried riding him and he panicked about me bending his shrivelling dick into some weird flesh origami. He’s selfish and stupid. Always has been… he just did a really fucking good job of making me think he wasn’t.”

You scoff, doing everything to stay light and calm under these weird circumstances. Though the room still clings to a quietness that leaves no room for peace—just an overbearing pressure that reminds you Seungmin is very much here, listening to you blurt out your sex horror stories—still watching you.

His face doesn’t shift. You regret ever taking his sarcastic nature for granted, because you would’ve killed to see his lips wobble with the control to keep himself from smiling. But there’s not a smirk.

Then he says it—low.

“Who was it?”

Your pulse stutters. It’s a vague question, and you could, all the more, ask him to explain himself clearer, but you knew what it had to be after the commotion in the toilet—so did your body, which involuntarily thinks about the time it stung with pleasure underneath Dongmin, thinking about Seungmin—and all you can muster as a response is… nothing.

You watch nervously, suddenly turning into a gladiator in an arena, eyeing the stalking lion that pushes off the doorframe, rounding around the desk. It was quite possibly the hottest Seungmin had ever looked. But you knew the reason why he kept walking closer—halting just where your knees tied close together—was because you had already given your confession in reverse, and all he was looking for was proof that he wasn’t going insane.

Instinctively, your mind wills your legs to part—just enough, a silent invitation for Seungmin to close the space between you. But he’s already made that decision himself. His hands brush the sides of your knees, guiding them apart before stepping in, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than you’ve been dreading it.

The hem of your skirt hikes up with the movement, the cool air licking at the heat between your thighs—your body betraying you, aching to buck into the rough fabric of his pants.

“Seungmin,” you breathe, though you don’t know if it’s a warning, or a plea. It sounds too soft. Too wanting. Like you’re asking for something neither of you are ready to name.

His fingers haven’t stopped swiping at your skin. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” That was a lie. But it felt easier than trying to explain the truth—that it wasn’t him fucking you senselessly into the mattress that pushed you over the edge. It was worse than that. It was the image of him smiling, soft and stupid. Or the quiet outline of his back turned toward you, relaxed and unguarded, like he was waiting for you to come wrap your arms around him.

That was what ruined you. Something so devastatingly ordinary that it cracked the floor beneath you wide enough to fall straight through it.

Straight into him.

He laughs, puffing hot air into your face. “Bullshit. You haven’t been able to look at me for more than a second.” There’s a note of patience in his throat. “I knew it was me… even before you got with Dongmin.”

By now, the desperate need for him to hold you is confused with the want to punish him.

“If you knew—” You shove him a little. He doesn’t budge, and it does nothing but anger you more when you feel him inch his fingers under your skirt, dizzyingly close to where your hips meet your thighs, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take while you’re still mad at him.

And he takes, and takes.

“If you knew, then why’d you mess with me so much? You could’ve left me alone. But instead, you slept with every girl who looked your way. Paraded them in front of me like I wasn’t even—”

“Because I wanted you to stop looking at me like I was something you could actually love,” Seungmin says harshly. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to do relationships without disappointing someone. So yeah, I might’ve fucked girls who didn’t matter—sue me. You also used Dongmin to bury everything you felt for me.”

Your jaw is tight, glaring intensely. “I did love him.”

But by now, the button of Seungmin’s jeans is pressed firm against the heat of your core, and you can’t think back on any shared memory between your ex-boyfriend that had the opportunity to come this close to being this shattering. No, there had to be one. Was there?

When he speaks again—his voice barely a breath, inches from your wet mouth—it doesn’t sound like a confession.

It sounds like a fucking verdict.

“Enough to picture my face while he was fucking you.”

Then there’s a moment—just one—where your mouths finally collide (with the lone clumsiness of forgetting the baseball player’s hat and colliding with the brim first before anything, chucking it to the side), hands grabbing and kneading your body with such force. And Seungmin’s mouth—fuck—his mouth leaves a small cluster of fires that drop into your belly, igniting and burning down the lining of your stomach until all that’s left is a hollowed-out ache in the shape of him.

You whimper when his fingers dip low, hooking under the thin bands of your underwear. He tugs—up—and the fabric wedges tight between your folds, pressure zeroing in on your clit so sweet and sharp it knocks the breath out of you.

“Ngh—ah—” you gasp, legs twitching and opening wider. He settles back, eyes blown out and taking you in.

Then he drags one finger down. Slow. Feather-light. Tracing the tension he just created. From the peak, right over the swollen fabric, down, down—until he’s pressing deep over your clothed entrance, and it’s enough to break something loose inside you.

“Was this how you looked like thinking about me?” You moan in response to his lewd question, your hips jerking forward, chasing the friction like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. It’s pathetic how quickly you’re spiralling. How fast he reduces you to this before he’s even inside you.

And that terrifies you.

Because this was real. It wasn’t the dissociating images you conjure up to distract you from the stale rhythm of someone trying to love you the right way. It was Seungmin, with his teasing mouth and bruised heart, being consumed with his very own desires and satiating it the only way he knew how to.

It was imperfect.

“I can’t do this.” Your hand slips up, resting lightly against his arm—just enough pressure to still him. Seungmin stops, confusion flashing across his face, then fades into something softer. He doesn’t speak—just watches you, waiting.

“I trust you as my best friend. I always have.” You glance away for a beat, then back up at him. “But this... what we’re doing—I don’t trust you with it. Not yet. It has to grow naturally. I need to know it’s real. That this isn’t just... hormones or timing or some ego trip because I came thinking about you.”

There’s still an unclear want to give in to him while resisting him. “I don’t want 20 minutes of something intense that disappears by morning. I want to know we’re both in this for the right reasons. That we’re risking the friendship because we actually want each other... not because it feels good to be wanted.”

The silence stretches. “I’m not saying don’t try. I’m saying... if we’re doing this, I need us both to mean it.”

This is the part you forgot how to do. The part that got buried after a year of being Dongmin’s perfect ‘yes man’. Always agreeable, always softening your edges to fit the version of you he could manage. You spent so long smoothing over his messes that the idea of setting a boundary felt foreign.

So no—choosing yourself doesn’t feel like some glowing act of self-empowerment. It feels like rejecting the one thing you’ve been aching for. It feels like standing in front of someone you’ve loved in too many complicated, unspoken ways... and saying not yet.

“If that’s what you need, I’ll try.” It’s not a promise, but it’s enough. Seungmin leans back, helping you readjust your underwear, the wetness making sitting all the more uncomfortable, though it entertains the baseball player. Perhaps it’s a small payback from all the shitty treatment he’s gotten from his coach.

“Just… don’t hold the first three screw-ups against me,” he adds, mouth twitching into something not quite a smile. “I’m more practice than presentation. Not really the flowers and teddy bears type.”

A small laugh tumbles past your lips, appreciating the familiarity in his tone. “No. You’re more ‘boy’s locker room and lending your girl your baseball jersey after marking her up in it’ type.”

That gets him. A blink paired with a slow raise of one slit brow—like he’s filing the image away in his memory cabinet in real time, just in case he needs it later for inspiration.

Your phone buzzes with perfect timing, eliminating the growing awkwardness. Fishing it out and lazily flicking open your screen, Seungmin doesn’t ask at first. Just watches. But the second your features quirk—

“Who is it?” he says, not too casual, distracting himself by bending and picking up his baseball cap, dusting it off against his thigh that was too close to his growing bulge.

You glance up. “Weird... it’s Felix. He just sent me his part of the project. I’ve been chasing him down for a week.”

Seungmin leans back against the window, arms crossed again. “Guess guilt finally won.” He says it flatly, but there’s a flicker of something beneath his words—amusement, mostly. Like he’ll bring this moment up in a couple of days, preferably around Felix, coaxing him to outwardly say who had played a big role in successfully getting him to help you.

You type a quick reply, shooting off a sarcastic thank-you message with one hand. A beat later, your phone dings again. But this time, the sound doesn’t come from your device.

It comes from somewhere outside the door.

Seungmin pieces it together quickly. “Felix?” Craning his head back to peer out through the office window, the ace player watches parts of his fellow teammate become visible behind a row of lockers, hand poking out within the darkness, holding up a lit phone.

“I was gonna knock,” comes Felix’s unmistakable voice—a little nervous and rightfully grossed out for someone who eavesdropped from outside the coach’s office. “But things got wild really quickly… so I tried breaking the ice over text.”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Already Know, Babe

Request: Heyy would I be able to pretty please ask for a Roy one-shot based of So High School? Mainly the lyric: "Truth, Dare, Spin Bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" (bc I have TTPD brainrot) Like I'd love to picture Roy with a total academic girl who loves classic literature and ancient greece and philosophy pls ???

Roy Kent x Reader

3.3k words

Warnings: Language, Roy being insecure, the guys making Roy feel bad (not on purpose)

A/N: Ahhh I also have TTPD brainrot so I loooooove this! I made the reader a uni professor. Also been wanting to do a Bantr fic for Roy for a while, so I incorporated that in too!

Roy scowled and sipped his beer. “Fuck no.”

Leaning forward in the booth they sat in, Keeley gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, the ones that stopped working the moment he got over her. “Come on, Roy. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it’d be good for you.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Jamie chimed in.

“‘Fuck no’ used to be a complete sentence,” Roy growled.

Before he could stop the striker, Jamie grabbed Roy’s mobile off the table, holding it just out of the gaffer’s reach. “Just… one… moment…” he huffed as Keeley did her best to hold Roy back. “Alright, we need a username.”

Roy rolled his eyes but stopped fighting against Keeley’s grip. “How about ‘This is fucking stupid’?”

“I think that’s against their policy,” Jamie hummed, eyes still on the phone.

Keeley thought for a moment. “RoyallySarcastic? Y’know, ROYally?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I got it!” He typed away before proudly showing the screen to Roy and Keeley. “RoyalPain,” he announced.

With a giggle, Keeley took the phone from Jamie and handed to Roy, who looked ready to kill his friends. “There we are Roy-o,” she said. “Welcome to Bantr.”

~

~

Roy sat at the small table, fidgeting with the shiny fork on the table and staring intently at the condensation on the glass of water in front of him. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He was Roy fucking Kent, he reminded himself sternly. He’d been on plenty of dates. Sure, this was his first Bantr date, but that shouldn’t really matter. He’d been on a couple of blind dates in the past; this shouldn’t be much different.

But it sure felt different when you walked in, all wide eyes and nervous smiles. You approached him hesitantly, cocking your head as you got closer. Your gaze flickered to the tattered copy of A Wrinkle in Time on the table next to him before settling on his face.

“RoyalPain?” you squeaked out, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

Before he could stop himself, he grinned and blurted out, “I Kant believe it’s you.” Immediately, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nope, fuck, that was stupid. I’m sor-”

Your laughter eased his embarrassment as you sat across from him. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you countered. “That was cute.” You offered your name with a small smile.

“Roy,” he said simply, searching your face for any sign that you recognized him.

Instead, you nodded and leaned forward. “And what do you do, Roy?”

What did he do? He tried to remember the last time someone asked him that. “I work for a football team,” he said slowly. “A.F.C. Richmond.”

You nodded, interest all over your pretty face. “And what do you do at Richmond?”

He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Do you… you don’t know who I am?” Fuck, he felt like an absolute asshole saying the words out loud.

“Sure I do,” you chuckled. “I just figured that Roy Kent doesn’t often get the chance to introduce himself. Thought I’d give you the opportunity.”

Roy couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, it was kind of dorky, but fuck, he liked it. Just like he liked hearing about your job as a uni professor, or the article you recently wrote about Arthurian legend, or the book you’d read recently. And he really liked the way you looked at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, more interesting than the well-renowned experts and authors you got to spend time with, asking him about his work and his life and his opinions. He smiled all through dinner, laughing at jokes even when they went over his head and making a mental list of books he now wanted to read.

He was still grinning as he walked you to your car after dinner, wondering when he’d last enjoyed himself so much on a date. As you fished your keys out of your purse, he found himself desperately hoping for another date with you. And another. And another.

“Could we do this again sometime?” he asked gently once your keys were in your hand.

Fuck, he loved the way your eyes lit up at his question. “Absolutely,” you breathed.

With a dizzy little nod, Roy cupped your face and tugged you close, ghosting his lips over yours. You gently laid your hands on his hips to press against him, deepening the kiss. You swore you could feel him smiling against your mouth as his thumb stroked your cheek. Some little part of you wanted to pull this man into your car, into your apartment, into your bed. But from the happy little hum that vibrated from his chest to yours, you knew you had plenty of dates ahead of you, plenty of time for all that, plenty of Roy Kent ahead of you.

~

After three weeks of dates and laughter and late-night phone calls and kisses that escalated to other things, Roy invited you to a match. He seemed weirdly nervous for a retired football legend whose dating history could fill any of the giant books that filled the shelves in your office, but you found his nerves nothing short of charming. So, you threw on some comfy jeans and a sweatshirt and climbed into Roy’s giant black car to go with him to Nelson Road, where he showed you his office before giving you your ticket and sending you off to your seat with a chaste kiss.

Roy was fighting the stupidest smile as he prepared for the match, the same stupid smile he’d been fighting since your first date. He was excited for you to see him and the Greyhounds in action, to be able to show off for you a little and, he didn’t fucking know, make you proud or some shit.

“Was that your girlfriend, Roy?” Sam raised his eyebrows as he and Jan stood in the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “No,” he said slowly. “But we’ve been dating for a few weeks.” He paused for a moment, hoping he didn’t look too dopey as he spoke. “She’s a professor. Fucking brilliant. Like, she teaches, and she’s been published and speaks at conferences.”

Jan spoke up. “Most men would not be able to handle dating a woman so much more educated than they are. Good for you, Coach. It’s nice that you are not intimidated by her clearly superior intellect.”

A knot appeared in Roy’s stomach, but he simply cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Yeah, well.” He blinked, not sure what the fuck he was supposed to say to that. “Best finish getting ready, hmm?”

Jan’s words continued to flutter around Roy’s mind like an annoying butterfly as he made his way out to the pitch. He liked that you were smart. Hell, he liked that you were smarter than him. He could listen to you talk for hours about literature and history and philosophy, especially when your eyes lit up and your voice got faster, the way he noticed it did when you were especially passionate about something. It was impressive, not to mention sexy as all hell. But there had definitely been moments over the last few weeks where he had to Google what you were talking about while you weren’t looking, or where he laughed at a joke he didn’t really understand. It came with the territory, he told himself. It was to be expected, dating someone like you.

And there you were, sitting in the seat Roy had selected for you, the one that gave you the perfect view of the dugout- per your request. You waved excitedly when you caught Roy’s eye, wearing that giant smile that made his heart skip a beat. He offered back a small wave, knowing full well that all the guys could see his furious blush.

“That your girl?” Colin asked, following Roy’s dreamy gaze.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention back to his team. “Uh, I guess?” he mumbled, taking the clipboard Nate handed him.

Sam spoke up. “Roy said she’s a uni professor.”

Respect covered the faces of the men that were clearly more interested in Roy’s love life than their impending match. They all started chattering over each other, ignoring Roy’s eyerolls and Beard and Nate’s amused expressions.

Richard waggled his eyebrows. “Does she offer special office hours for you, Coach?”

Roy wrinkled his nose at the Frenchman. “What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Did you have to buy a new dictionary to keep up with her?” Zoreaux teased.

Isaac spoke up, clapping a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Most guys would probably run for the hills if they had to keep up with a woman’s brainpower,” he started. “But Roy’s not intimidated. I mean, sure, we all know he’s no Einstein, but he’s got other great qualities. Like…”

Roy raised a cool eyebrow at the captain, more curious than offended at this point.

“Coaching,” Colin finally finished for Isaac. “He’s a great manager.”

Jamie pipped up now. “And she seems to really like looking at you, Grandad.” He nodded to the stands where, sure enough, you were still gazing at Roy, affection all over your face. “She’s cute,” he mused.

Roy cleared his throat, trying to focus attention to the match at hand and not your pretty smiles. Or the words of his players that had etched a deep frown onto his bearded face. “Alright, Greyhounds!” he hollered. “Let’s fucking focus, lads! We’ve got a fucking match to win!”

~

And they did win, much to Roy’s pleasure. Winning always felt good, but he had to admit that winning in front of a pretty girl felt fucking great. And it was even better when he found you waiting in his office, gazing at him as if you had hearts in your eyes.

“That was brilliant!” you gushed, wrapping your arms around his middle while his rested on your shoulders and tugged you close. You pressed a tiny kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Roy.”

He smiled down at you and pecked your nose. “Think you’ll come again sometime?” he teased.

Your eager nodding melted his heart. “Absolutely,” you promised. “Maybe next time I’ll even wear a kit. Since I think I’m officially a Richmond fan now.”

“That kit better have a six on it,” Roy growled, smacking another kiss to your cheek. He gave you a small squeeze before releasing you. He reached down to grab your hand. “I’ve got to go talk to the press for a bit, he explained, leading you over to his desk. “D’you mind waiting here? We can grab dinner once I’m done,” he promised. “Here, you can even watch the presser on my computer.”

“Sounds perfect.” You touched his cheek and pulled him close for one more kiss. “Now get going, I want to see you be brilliant in front of all those reporters.”

Roy was still blushing when he got in front of the cameras. The press conference was a blur of questions and comments. He’d probably have to apologize to Keeley later, because he was sure he was dreamy and distracted the entire time. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so lovesick over a woman, and he especially couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed it so much.

When he returned to his office, he was surprised to see Jamie sitting on the edge of his desk, chatting pleasantly with you. You both lit up at the sight of him, with Jamie choosing to speak first as Roy offered a small grin to you.

“Your girl was just telling me about this seminar she’s speaking at next weekend,” he announced. “Some talk on the Lord of the Rings books and their impact on modern cinema.” He nodded to you. “It actually sounds really cool.” He slid off the desk with ease, offering you a wink. “Not sure what someone as smart as you is doing with Grandad here,” he joked.

He was kidding around. Roy knew that. Jamie loved to tease everyone, especially him. He was well-aware of the way Jamie admired him, as his childhood hero, as his coach, and, fuck it, fine, as his friend. Maybe it was all the joking from earlier, but Roy felt his face fall at Jamie’s teasing. He couldn’t help it; it was one thing for the guys to joke to his face, another to make a comment in front of you. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself, but some part of him was terrified you’d realize how brilliant you were, and how dull he was, and call the whole thing off.

Roy was so busy stewing in his childish embarrassment, he missed the way your eyebrows scrunched at Jamie, your mouth in a straight line. When you spoke, your voice was flat, maybe even a little angry, as you responded to the striker.

“I think,” you said slowly, “I’m going to dinner with him.” With that, you took Roy’s hand, hoping the adoration in your eyes would be enough to wipe that frown off his handsome features. “Ready, Roy?”

Roy nodded, but barely said a word as the two of you walked through the Dog Track, got into his car, and drove to the restaurant he’d been excitedly telling you about the day before. However, that excitement was nowhere to be seen as the two of you settled in and ordered some dinner. You cocked your head at him, wondering how someone who’d just coached such a great game could look so sullen- especially while on a date with someone he was supposed to really like.

“That match was incredible,” you offered, leaning forward with a smile. “Seriously, Roy. How do you do that? Being able to see the game unfold and know what plays to call, what players to have on the pitch. And all the preparation you have to do in advance. It’s like a really intense game of chess, with all those moving pieces, not knowing what the other side is going to do next.” You reached out and laid your hand on top of his. “Your team is so lucky to have you.”

His gaze avoided yours as he cleared his throat. “Dunno how much of it is me,” he chuckled hollowly. “I inherited a great team and have a really talented coaching staff.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I just… stand there and take up space.”

Now it was your turn to frown. This wasn’t the Roy Kent you met, the Roy Kent that teased you and smirked and made cocky comments just to make you laugh. Something had happened, something between the beginning of the match and the end, to make him so morose. Maybe something had happened in the match that you’d missed; you weren’t much of a sports fan before meeting Roy, you really only knew the basics, so it was possible what you thought was an incredible match was really something of a failure for him.

Maybe distracting him would help.

“I was telling Jamie Tartt about the conference I’m speaking at,” you tried again. “It’s this fantasy and pop culture thing. Kind of dorky,” you admitted. “But I’m really excited about my talk on Tolkien and his influence on modern cinema. My colleague was saying he really liked this one parallel I drew between Frodo and- well, I don’t want to spoil it.” You squeezed his hand. “You should come. I’ve seen you at work, now I want to show you what I do.” You shrugged. “Could even bring Jamie if you want.”

Roy nodded absently, not quite looking you in the eye. “Yeah, just make sure to get me a translator so I can understand what you’re saying.” His voice sounded like he was attempting to make a joke, but it fell flat. “Academics to neanderthal or some shit.”

That was enough of that, you decided. With a sigh, you leaned back, cocking your head at the gaffer and shooting him your sternest glare, the one you saved for students who didn’t know how to act like adults in your classroom. “Alright, Roy. What’s going on? You’re acting like you don’t want to be here, and, frankly, I don’t want to hang out with someone who doesn’t value my time.”

“I…” Roy let out a low growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re smart,” he finally blurted out. “Like, really, really fucking smart. You teach, and you’re published, and you speak in front of academic types who hang onto every word you say.” He released his nose and shook his head at you, embarrassment swimming in those brown eyes. “And I… played football. I coach football. That’s fucking it. I can’t stand the idea of you being embarrassed by the fact that I can’t keep up with you. That you’re going to turn around and realize I’m not smart enough for you.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as you took in the sight of him, looking devastated, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was right, he was a neanderthal, and that you didn’t think he was smart enough for you. If it wasn’t so sad, the picture of Roy looking so forlorn would be almost endearing.

“That,” you finally murmured, “might be the stupidest thing you’ve said since we met, Roy.” He nodded, a grimace covering his face as you went on. “Not smart enough for me?” you scoffed. “Roy, I think you’re brilliant.” You sighed and shook your head. “I mean, look at you today. I could never do what you do, managing an entire football team. And I’ve seen clips of you when you played, you were brilliant then too. Not just a skilled player, but a smart one. And from what you’ve said, you have great relationships with your players, with your niece and sister, hell even with your ex-girlfriend. That takes an emotional intelligence most people don’t have.”

“I mean-”

You shushed the gruff man. “’m not finished. And what’s this about you not being able to keep up with me? You read almost as much as I do, Roy. When you don’t know something, you immediately learn everything you can about it. You absolutely tore through ‘Le Morte d'Arthur’ after our first date so you could ask me about my King Arthur article.” A smile finally broke through your face. “So, unless this is some roundabout way of trying to say you don’t want to see me anymore, please stop insulting the man I’m dating and accept that there’s different kinds of intelligence. And I like your intelligence quite a bit.”

For a moment, you thought you may have completely overwhelmed Roy. He blinked at you with an unreadable expression before letting out a breathy chuckle. With raised eyebrows and something that looked close to a smile, he finally opened his mouth.

“I’ve just… never had such an intelligent girlfriend before,” he said slowly. “I’ve dated smart women. Driven women. But no one like you. It’s… a little scary, how brilliant you are.” That something close to a smile became a real grin as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “And really fucking sexy,” he added quickly.

Your heart skipped a beat with every word out of his mouth. “You’ve never had a nerdy girlfriend before, hmm?” you teased.

His expression was bashful, but absolutely pleased. “No,” he chuckled. “I haven’t.”

A smirk crossed your face as you batted your eyes at him. “Do you want a nerdy girlfriend?”

Those brown eyes were so soft, so full of affection as he nodded gently. “Yeah,” he breathed, raising those thick eyebrows at you. “I really fucking do.”

“That,” you hummed with a silly grin, “might be the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Roy.”

[perseruna]

heyyyy do you have any details/sources for the ca*ill being a jackass thing? ngl i watch twn for yen and jaskier so i was already planning on continuing to season 4 but i'd love some reasons to be actively excited for the actor switch. but i haven't kept up on the behind-the-scenes stuff so i'm kinda lost on that front if you're up for sharing any of what you know!

okay guys buckle up this is THE anti henry cavill megathread xoxo

First of all him dating a teenager as a 33 year old fully grown man literally gross and disgusting.

Also as this quote implies they started dating a year prior and only went public when she was 19 so they supposedly started dating when she was 18.

His entire dating history is a MESS. Sure the women he dated are not him, but he chose to date them, I wouldn't even associate myself with people like these let alone be in a relationship with them. He dated the infamous transphobic TERF Gina Carano, albeit before her loud controversy, but I doubt her harmful views were any different back then. His current gf has a history of doing black face.

His "Me Too" comments.

His comments on the Me Too movement are literally so vile. If you don’t want to be called a rapist, just don’t rape women, it’s literally as simple as that. They’re even more foul because they’re promoting the idea that women lie about their abusive for fame, promoting that harmful rhetoric especially in our times is incredibly dangerous.

Now onto his on set behavior.

We can't talk about his set behavior without mentioning the deuxmoi set leak. Here's the transcript of it:

[Transcript:

There’s something I really really wanted to read to you guys--it has to do with why Henry Cavill left The Witcher. I know that was something that you guys were super interested in when it happened, and I just recently got this message. Somebody was like “Hey, do you want to know what really went down?” And I was like “Sure!” So let me just read it. It says:

“At the beginning of the show, Henry was good to work with. A lot of difficult demands that made people feel like he wasn’t a team player, but that’s not unusual for a really big star. Though in TV it truly usually doesn’t happen until the second season. But in season two and three something shifted and he became really impossible for women to work with, which is always a big problem, but even worse here because the showrunner is a woman. He would try to overrule her and try to get changes made last minute across the board without her knowledge, which, if you know anything about showrunning, is completely fucked. The showrunner has to sign off on every miniscule detail down to the buttons on a costume. Female writers and directors were suddenly being completely ignored on set, unable to do their jobs. Every department head was complaining. He started making comments—it wasn’t a sexual thing, he wasn’t grabbing anyone or being lewd, but it was disrespectful and toxic all the same.

“He is deeply addicted to video games, to the point where it was like working with any other addict. He was distracted, he was late, he was obsessive, and a lot of people think the misogyny came from gamer world. Video game bro language is not how you talk to coworkers, and he wouldn’t stop. Someone on the show compared it to watching someone get brainwashed by QAnon, like his whole personality shifted. Eventually his disrespect escalated. He would rewrite scenes without even alerting the other actors in the scenes until it was time to shoot. He decided that he didn’t want any romantic scenes at all—no kissing scenes, no shirtless scenes, et cetera. He wanted complete control of storylines but really had no idea of the limitations of TV, structure, budget, et cetera. He formed a weird alliance with one writer who was also a gamer, who eventually got fired after multiple HR complaints were made and after that writer left, Henry did anything he could to hold up production and cause problems.

“Eventually top brass at Netflix was tired of him costing them money with delays and HR investigations and the showrunner was asked to construct a potential exit for him. Netflix reached out to him personally and he was given one final warning, and violated that warning with an email he sent to the entire writing staff right after that meeting. That was it. It’s very disappointing.”

End transcript.]

Now believe me or not, but I know from a really good source that the leak was indeed real.

There's a lot of patterned behavior that tracks with what we know of him and his past controversies.

After that leak came out, there was a lot of people from different places coming to comment that ‘yes’ they’ve heard a very similar story adding a little bit more details of their own.

this quickly deleted tweet from one of the writers/producers:

there were rumors about him being an asshole to Anya specifically.

He went on record that he doesn't "understand" sex scenes. Which I know the sex discourse is rampant nowadays and each to their own, but he specifically signed up for a role that requires those scenes and then refused to do them and was allegedly nasty to Anya about it and with the way he talks about women...

Also it’s important to touch upon the “writer he had a weird alliance with” that man in question is Beau DeMayo of the recent fame of getting fired by Marvel from X-Men ‘97. He was previously allegedly fired from The Witcher for being emotionally and physically abusive. And he allegedly got fired from X-Men for being abusive as well. One of The Witcher writers tweeted this after Beau smeared them for “disliking the books” Beau was literally the first person to start that narrative.

The fact that it was HIS idea not to say lines of his dialogue in S1 and instead grunt. To the point that Joey had to take Henry’s lines and make it his own, so the plot would make sense, he talks about it in this interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=Oyh0t117t0U&, and then once S2 press arrived Henry was talking about how he was trying to fight the big bad writers to give him more lines. Ridiculous.

Everyone is already pointing out that the cast looks so much happier without him, and it’s very true. Henry was never present on close to any BTS pics from filming the previous seasons, or on any cast dinners or birthdays. He wouldn't even do any shared interviews with the other three mains but only had solo interviews which to me was giving disrespectful like you're an ensemble you’re not the only lead here. It felt like he was above them to sit down and answer questions with them. When they were doing press junkets in Brazil and Poland Anya, Joey and Freya would always arrive together and leave together with that man leaving all the events early and by himself. And like people who post quotes from the cast about him being perfect from press junkets as “proof” are insane to me like Obviously they’re going to say nice things about him, not only they're newcomers, and he's an established industry name, but they’re doing PRESS for a show that he’s a STAR of (well, was lmao)

The fact that he never defended Anya from the racist trolls, even though most of them were HIS fans. Like she had to go through so much and that man couldn’t make a single comment about it as a leading man BUT he could make a whole IG post because people were being mean to his gf and calling her out for doing blackface.

And sure people might say that a lot of these are unverified sources, and I’d get it if it was a singular case, but there are a ton of these accounts that all match each other. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

[klttn]

just thinking about dreamy nd pervy, in love stalker simon who started out following you as just a way to check you were safe after the 141 had found you on mission. fragile little thing you were. he just wanted to make sure you were settling okay.

he didn’t intend for it to be any more than that. but it became routine. and being the military mutt he was, he loved his routine. at least that’s what he tells himself late at night when he’s defiling you in his head with his cock out and his hand fisting it.

it started out by him just watching you, lingering so close but just far enough that a little ditz like you wouldn’t notice a thing. making sure you weren’t being followed, keeping you safe, being your guard dog.

he didn’t know when it escalated to more than that. to needing to see you constantly. craving you as his. wanting you to be his girl. you basically already were, to him at least.

so like any doting boyfriend. he put cameras in your house. to protect you. obviously. he was just protecting you. it’s not an invasion of privacy. your his, right? you will be his.

so of course, he’d scare off any man who showed even the smallest of interest in you. whether that be online or in person. “you’re not good enough for her,” he’d tell them. mask covering his face as he growled at them after pulling them aside in a dark alley. “she is mine, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

and silly little you just didn’t know any better, flirting with others whilst you’re his. he’s just making sure you’re loyal.

he’d later watch the sad and confused look on your face when they never came back to you or in online cases just disappear completely. no text. no calls. just vanishing. but fuck did you look so cute when you were wide eyed and lost, looking for someone already gone and scared shitless.

though in his eyes, you always look so pretty when you don’t know he’s watching.

and he was always watching. he loved it. all the mundane things you do too, having him cooing and imagining what life would be like if he lived with you.

he even started doing things with you. watching you as your brushed your teeth whilst he did the same, chuckling to himself when the frothy mint would drool from your mouth. mornings with my girl, he thought.

cooking and watching you eat with him too. tv screen broadcasting you as he’d sit n take mouthful after mouthful. intently watching when you’d moan at how good the food would taste. he also imagined those noises for other things.

but his favourite thing to watch though, was you at night. when he was laying in bed, phone in hand with the feed up keening as soft snores filled the speakers and you’d cuddle even closer to your duvet.

he’d imagine himself behind you, enveloping you in his meaty scarred body, so eager for you to be his. to wrap himself around you and keep you claimed in his hold and surrounded by his scent.

he never intended to watch you change or in the shower though. she’d show me one day. she’s mine after all. that lasted all but a couple of weeks at best. he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he really wasn’t. but in his defence, he didn’t expect the first time he watched you undress for you to do such filthy things. he soon found out you made the prettiest noises when you touched yourself.

he wasn’t supposed to do it again though. watch as you stripped your clothes off and spread yourself out on the bed after a long day. legs trembling as you trailed your fingers up and down your body, rubbing soft circles around your folds and puffy swollen clit.

he wasn’t supposed to get hard at the way the camera angled just perfectly to show every inch of your soft n wanting body to him. able to see the way your little hole begged to be filled.

he really wasn’t supposed to turn the volume up and start fucking into his fist the minute your adorable little whimpers left the speakers. jacking his wrist in sync to your pathetic attempt to fuck yourself with your too-small fingers. i could fill her up so much better, he’d think.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to cum hot white stripes all over his calloused and rough hand with your name spilling from his lips. groaning when he heard you coming undone with him.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to then break into your house the next day whilst you were out. stealing a pair of panties to help his endeavours. he was a strong man, but you were his weakness.

maybe he’d even leave one of his hoodies for you to be confused by. a letter hidden in the front pocket.

“you may not know it yet, little girl, but you are mine. — ghost, your stalker and the man who saved your life.”

after all, he had to reintroduce himself somehow. what were you gonna do? tell the cops?

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3

[aloesarchives]

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros #2.5: Teen!Mayumi (OC)

TW/Warnings: Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, unhinged crack, JJK OC(but not main x Reader), tons of swearing, Mayumi is truly a Gen Z kid

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns/Usage: She/Her, Mama/Mom

So, it's been awhile since I've actually posted anything. College, projects, life in general fuck my ass up frfr. On top of that, I got really bad writer's block and being burnt out. I've been spending time with family and friends and it's been giving me motivation to write again. So I'm trying to finish my long wips before my winter break ends!

I also made reference pics of Mayumi for anyone who's curious on what she would look like. These pics of Mayumi were based on my appearance since she's an self-insert combination of me and Toji lol. I had to work with what I got to visualize her. If you has questions or wanna ask more about her, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox!

(Credits to the creators of the photo generators from Piccrew and Storior. I didn't create the generators but used them to create these pics)

Preteen!Mayumi:

Teen/Highschool!Mayumi:

Mayumi wasn’t a menace or a problematic child. Nothing was too extreme that required strict parenting. As she grows up, she’s not as rebellious as you imagined. She only talks back to Toji, never you. But even then, she’s setting her boundaries up and setting herself up. 

She’s in her own little world, doing her own thing. A go-getter if you will.

Only taking after the green eyes of your hubby, she is a mini version of you through and through. Performing well and evolving into an academic weapon of mass destruction. School has never been an issue for her or will be in the future. She is a competitive person at heart but stays humble as much as she can. She most definitely does Kendo, Kyūdō, and Karuta. You and Toji always go to her competitions. She’s always on the podium in first place. She’s only good because Toji’s the only one who has the physical prowess to match. And Toji doesn’t go easy on her during their training. But your daughter is grateful that her Papa supports her interests and wants her to succeed, which proves your point that you made the right choice in choosing a husband and father for your children.

But Mayumi in her teen years, she turns a complete 180 and becomes a mini Toji. A menace. 

She isn’t a bully nor picks on others. It’s the other way around, she is fully beefing with egotistical kids that think they’re all that and can do anything. Her reasoning is quite interesting because she’s trying to show them that the stuff they pulled off wouldn’t slide in the real world. She’s helping them out because the stuff they pulled can be digging their own graves if they mess with the wrong people. The bullies jump her off-school grounds and after school hours, too bad it leads them to either having a bruised complex, pride, or straight up CTE.

She never fought in school, no never. That's after-school activities for her. Even if that were to happen and you and Toji had to be called down, the only thing that matters to Toji is whether or not Mayumi won. But the answer is always the same, which is yes. That’s you as well but you had to be the reasonable parent in the situation. If any of the parents of the bullies trifle with you, you can pull your connection cards on them and it shuts them up good.

“Oh, you think your threats scare me? Bold of you to assume I could feel shaken by someone like you. It’s not like your company violated several labor and wage laws, or your money embezzlement affairs? Hm?”

Once she got to high school at Jujutsu Tech, no one wanted to shit on her because they all know they’ll get boxed up by her after hearing the things she’s done to people that tried her.

She never explained how she controls her impulses. She credits her strong will power but you remember your husband is Toji. And with that, you know her sudden urges to do something reckless/impulsive are watched under the supervision of her father. You know this because one day you saw her long jump over the koi pond in the backyard of your home. She cleared it with perfect form and footing. You’re dead when Toji starts teaching her optimal forms and techniques so she could have a higher vertical and be nimble in the air like he is. 

She isn’t a trouble-maker. She’s not as reckless or impulsive like others around her age. You ask her why she doesn’t participate in day adventures or nightly escapades. She said most of her friends have curfews and can’t be out late. All of them have different routines so it’s hard to find time to hangout on the weekends. Mayumi also said she doesn’t know what’s lurking at night and wants nothing to do with it. And She knows Toji will know whether she snuck out at night. But she doesn’t want to cause you and Toji any trouble so she either doesn’t get into trouble at all or does but it’s a situation she knows she can easily handle herself.

She is a certified Zen’in hater and the most vocal about it too. She really doesn’t acknowledge that half of herself and purposely avoids talking about them in a familial matter. 

She is definitely stealing Toji’s old clothes and adding them to her wardrobe. The jackets he doesn’t wear anymore? She stole them and is a part of her wardrobe. She says she is repurposing them when she really wants them. 

Most of her teen years were filled with K-pop, her aesthetic is Y2K for sure. The staples of her closet are cargo pants, those long retro denim skirts, oversized t-shirts and jackets.

Because Shui sometimes visits Korea for business, Mayumi is always asking him for a TWICE, New Jeans, or BTS vinyls. She gets him all three in her room on display and plays them when she wants to chill out in her room.

Mayumi likes to spend time with Maki, Mai, and Nobara. Trains with Maki alongside Toji. No wonder Mayumi is so good at fighting. She was literally taught by PEAK.

The sibling banter, oh my god. “Mom, get this Emo kid off his ass and tell him I need him to come with me to watch a movie!” “Why me? Can’t you ask Tsumiki or your friends?” “Ugh, because my friends are busy and Tsumiki-Nii won't come home until after her club. Plus, you’re not doing anything right now and today’s our weekly sibling bonding time!” Megumi groans and grumbles before getting up off the couch and grabbing his wallet. Or her saying, “Gumi-Nii, this is why you got no maidens” when Megumi told her to leave him alone when she went into his room to bother him. 

Megumi has to deal with her as he is the main victim of her antics. Getting teased and roasted endlessly. He knows everyone's footsteps and knows who coming. That's only because he needed to recognize when Mayumi is coming and needs to mentally prepare himself when interacting with her. This is what happens when Mayumi got your looks but Toji's personality.

Begs Megumi to bring out his shikigamis so she can take pictures of/with them. Putting silly accessories on them like bows and hair clips. She puts hats on his divine dogs or take pictures of them at funny angles.

Don’t get me started on her inheriting Toji’s shit talking and banter. Her snide remarks and roasts are creative and out of worldly that Toji takes mental notes. Prime example, upon learning Toji and Satoru’s “shared past”, her insult library grew. “Dad, I don’t wanna hear anything from you! I’m talking to the same man who had beef with a bunch of high schoolers because his pockets were itching!” Turns to you “Can’t believe you looked at this and thought, ‘Oh, I’m definitely gonna make him my husband and the father of my future kids.’” You raised an eyebrow at her when you looked up from your laptop, “Mayumi, Dearest, you can’t be saying that. If I never gave that man a chance, you, Megumi, and Tsumiki wouldn’t exist. Besides, if it wasn’t for me, your Papa would be seeing a Michael Jackson concert or be at a Tupac meet and greet right now.” On second thought, maybe she got the shit talking from you too.

Continuing on the previous thought, Mayumi will say the most out of pocket, unhinged, crazy type of insults and curses you will ever hear. A prime example of this was during the Tokyo-Kyoto exchange event in Mayumi’s first year Jujutsu Tech. It was a 1v1 tournament between the Kyoto and Tokyo students. Mayumi’s opponent happened to be a third year student from the Zen’in clan. As you were watching from the sidelines with Toji, you couldn't help but notice Mayumi’s expression. She was locked in and basically mean-mugging them. Any and all insults were brushed off and unfazed. As she expected, your daughter knew her distant relative would pick her a part for being a celestial restricted user and not having any curse energy. As the fight went on, Mayumi was getting annoyed. Not because her opponent was hard, oh no not that. She was annoyed by the fact her opponent was all bark and no bite. Like her opponent was legit trying but it wasn’t enough for her. She could’ve easily ended the match, Toji and you knew that from the start, but she wanted to hold out in case her fight would get interesting. Alas, it didn’t and Mayumi was disappointed as hell. As she would put it, she’s related to frauds. Her opponent was yapping away with the classic “You got lucky” and “this isn’t my full power” shit. Now she’s just getting mad that her opponent was absolute garbage. Her opponent said something that you couldn’t quite make out, but Toji did as he let out a huff. You guessed it set off Mayumi because she stared them with the iconic Toji glare, clenched fists and teeth, and said “Choke on my dad’s dick and get pegged by my mom, you damn fraud!” Then proceeds to give that Zen’in the most devious combo imaginable, it connected so well it would be a perfect score in any fighting game. The fight was over with the obvious winner being Mayumi. But you and Toji, stunned for a solid five seconds before bursting out in laughter. For as vulgar and out of pocket your daughter was for saying that, it was creative. Toji even had tears in his eyes because he was dying of laughter but also how proud he was of Mayumi. That combo was crispy and only his daughter could do something like that.

She is so much like Toji that when she was fighting a Zen’in member(s) (99% Naoya), she locked in and did a pose. She had this look in her eyes and her grin was done in a way that’s almost primal. Then everything clicks and she’s giving them flashbacks because she’s giving TOJI AURA. She’s reminding them of Toji and piecing them up like her Pops. As Mayumi likes to put it, she’s running it back to her papa. The get back on the Zen’in clan for Toji. And she fucking delivers, ate that shit up and left no crumbs behind. She’s infamously known to be compared to Toji in the Jujutsu world but she wears that shit with pride and honor. “Disrespect my papa, then I’ll give you guys that generational fade that even your descendants will feel the secondhand embarrassment that you’re their ancestors. Straight up Frauds.”

Forces Toji to take selfies with her. Just a teenage daughter dragging her dad around. She’s just a girl, your dearest daughter, just dragging your 6’1 boulder of a husband around. Doing those drink dates and posting them. 

Okay, in my Modern/Toji Lives Au, since Shui doesn’t dip out and go under the radar he has a presence in the kids' lives. Every Time he’s over, he and Toji are yapping away at each other. Every time Mayumi is about to go out, she stops by and greets Shui and Toji before leaving. Usually she would be out the door when she has to go somewhere but there’s always a five minute gap. Turns out, she waits for Shui to give her cash and leaves with at least  29,000 Yen(close to $200 US). Watching this unfold is sometimes jarring because your husband and his friend at one point in time wretched havoc in the Jujutsu/underground world. Now, they’re just two older guys, chilling on the engawa of your home, and having a drink.

Mayumi is running Satoru’s pockets. Gifts, money, anything you name it, he’s getting her something. Satoru told you that as the unofficial oldest child and brother, it’s his job to get gifts and provide some financial incentive to his younger siblings. Since this is voluntary for Satoru, Mayumi is taking full advantage of it. When Mayumi got to that age, Satoru even offered to pay for schooling if she wanted to go to college/university or study abroad. Toji felt a bit insulted with how Satoru was casually flexing his wealth right in front of him. But Toji being the guy with an eye for better deals, he’ll silently let Satoru spurge on Mayumi if it meant he didn’t have to spend a single dime on her.

Ends up having a popular social media presence because she went viral from a post that had you and Toji in it. It was caption with something like "I want what they have/ Why my standards in love are so high" and it's you and Toji doing domestic stuff with Toji having this loving look on his face and you giving him a soft tender expression.

She doesn’t take her account seriously and just posts fun stuff or things for shits and giggles. Probably makes Toji do trends with her or takes videos of him doing mundane things around the house that got netizens foaming at the mouth. Then netizens start foaming at the mouth and become rebid when they find out about you. Doing a mom reveal and people were asking in the comments your skincare/makeup routine, making barking noises, etc. Then she does a family reveal where she includes Megumi and Tsumiki and people say the most unhinged things.

“You guys need a table? I can be a table for you guys”

“If yall need a chair, I’m the best chair to sit on. I can hold everyone.”

“Bro, please, save some for the rest of us! Like, let me have a fighting chance! Please!”

It gets worse when she posts a picture or video of her hanging out with Satoru, Suguru, or Nanami.

When Mayumi reveals both you and Toji’s ages, she did a video of your secrets while you say something sweet and practical like family and dropping your skincare routine then there’s Toji’s portion of the video. Toji just says: “My wife” and that’s it, does not elaborate on it. When Mayumi presses on, Toji responds “Your mom, Mayumi. I mean, do I need to say anything else because I legit got nothing else, Sweetheart.”

She does those livestreams to answer questions, you sometimes watch them when you’re away from home. They make you feel better and you do get a laugh out of them. 

Mayumi doing a livestream: “How old is my dad–? Too old for you all! And he’s married! shows a picture of you in the livestream Married! He’s taken! So stay away from my father! Stay away from my father, guys!”

Did a livestream with you and Toji and the amount of time Mayumi had to chastise Toji because the stuff he says will get her banned is hilarious and you are just watching the carnegie unfold right before you.

She did one livestream with her friends doing the hear me out challenge. And one of them pulled out Toji’s picture and put it on the brownie cake. Mayumi: “gasps! That’s my dad! Why the hell did you guys put my dad in!?” It gets worse when her other friend puts a picture of you in there too. Everyone was laughing while Mayumi was straight up flustered and stressed. Poor girl, she doesn’t need to be reminded that everyone wants to bang her parents.

Mayumi begged you to do that trend where daughters put their mothers in their style/clothes. That post was a hit but Toji wasn’t home for that. So when she made a post of Toji’s reaction to the post where you’re wearing Mayumi’s Y2K clothing, it was a hit too. That’s because as Mayumi sends him the post and he watches the post on his phone, Toji watches the video before looking up at Mayumi, with her phone pointed at him, and saying, “You want a younger sibling, Mayumi?” And she lets out a scream that was perfectly cut at the end of the video. 

Toji definitely spends the most time with her, they are very close to each other. They vibe on another level that you know you can’t even get. You’re aware she confides about anything and everything to you but always goes to Toji first since he’s more empathetic of her situations and what she goes through.

She’s the extrovert of the family (if you weren’t already one) but spending time and being near her is fun and entertaining. Mayumi is the apple to everyone’s eye but knows when to be strong and stand ten toes when she needs to be. She’s still a kind, considerate, and compassionate person. She’s just more outspoken now that she’s a teenager and she’ll stand on that. She’s a wonderful mix of you and Toji and is a certified Gen Z kid who loves her parents and siblings.

Taglist:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife @tqd4455 @k-kkiana

Taglist(w/o links):

@szillx @SleppyAnn @g0th1xac1d @kneelarhmstrung

[whatsjulietslastname]

Okay so this is me talking about everything that is wrong with Double Exposure because my first post about it was an angry reaction at the pricefield breaking up news and it wasn’t really diving into it. Obviously don’t read this if you haven’t played the game and do not want to get spoiled. Also, this is going to be long.

First of all, what I really want to speak about and what a lot of people are refusing to accept is how painfully out of character Max is throughout the whole game. “Yeah but she’s ten years older—” Don’t care. That doesn’t mean her entire personality has to change. I’ll say it over and over again, 2014 Max Caulfield would have absolutely despised her adult version. The thing that bugs me the most about 2024 Max Caulfield is how careless she is with her powers. She’s not asking herself where they came from, she doesn’t even freak out, or actually care. In the first game, right after she first rewinds, she constantly has to remind herself that she isn’t dreaming, and that this is real. In this game, she just accepts it, and goes on with her day, and uses her powers for the most useless reasons possible. What about the Max from her nightmare who represents the guilt she felt for using her powers wrong and putting all of those people in danger, you say? Absolutely forgotten. Max uses her powers so she can find items easier and so the people who rejected her in her main timeline want her in the other one. (Yes, after Chloe breaks up with her and expresses her worries about the fact that Max — apparently — uses her powers so things go her way — which is already incredibly out of character, because no, 2014 Max wouldn’t have used her powers on Chloe to avoid conflict, especially after what happened.) That is incredibly manipulative and shitty. SHE WOULDN’T FUCKING SAY THAT. And also, why on Earth would she try and use her powers to avoid her friend’s death when she KNOWS where this is leading. Did she not learn anything from the past? Apparently, she didn’t! And proceeded to completely forget about it all.

Something else that is incredibly annoying and gets tiring after like ten minutes is the amount of awkward sex-related jokes that Max (and every character, somehow) keeps making at any given moment. Pretty sure this was supposed to show us that Max is an adult now and that she hangs out with adults and knows what sex is but that is way too much. Nobody talks like that in real life (and if I ever meet someone who does I’m leaving the conversation). Max also makes cringey jokes all the time, because her dialogue (and hers only, which makes it sound even weirder) is the same as the 2014 one, except it was 2014 back then and it was acceptable. Now, if Max Caulfield says ‘let’s trash, shakabrah’, you’re only making it obvious how much fan-service you filled this game with. It would be funny if she said it to Chloe, because then it would have sounded like an inside joke, except she says it to her new lame love interest who has no idea what she’s talking about, and just. Why. Why would she, Deck Nine. The main problem about the fact that those jokes are thrown at us all the time is that Max’s inner dialogue is almost only focused on them. Something traumatic happens to her? Who cares. She’s gotta make a joke about the rock you pick up and then bring to another universe’s lame love interest who’s gonna reject her anyway and say ‘I’ll never apologize for my dad jokes’ because apparently, we’re never seeing the end of the fan-service in this game.

Chloe is out of character too the only few times we hear of her, but that’s only because Deck Nine makes it obvious how much they despise her. She leaves Max through a very underwhelming letter, which is already out of character enough. She then proceeds to never reach out for years (which is something Max has done to her and that has hurt her, so why the fuck would she do the same thing right after?) And apparently, she doesn’t care. She just moves on, and parties, and kind of starts flirting with Max’s high school bully, and makes cringey posts on the Internet that make her sound like an extremely corny player. That isn’t Chloe Price. That’s someone Chloe Price would make fun of, at most. I kept picturing 2014 Chloe reading the things her adult self apparently posts on social media and freeze in terror. Genuinely. Also, the whole ‘Joyce is dead and Chloe is angry at Max for it’. Sigh. Chloe gave Max the choice. She said ‘you’re the only one who can (make this choice)’. And then, when Max choses her, in front of her, and lets the town get blown away, Chloe says ‘I’ll always be with you’. Why the sudden switch up? Never explained. Chloe is just angry at Max for something she originally wasn’t angry at her for.

The writing in this game is super weak, too. There are a few cool scenes (I’m thinking the one where Safi tells Max to pulls the trigger in the middle of the storm, if you manage to make it past how boringly similar to LiS 1 it feels), but it’s mostly just…meh, at most. For instance, Safi asks Max about Chloe, we learn that Chloe and Max broke up, or that Chloe died, and then without giving us any time to process that, the game forces us to friendzone or flirt with some random girl that is apparently into Max. We don’t have any time to decide if we like her or not, you just take a look at her and decide if Max wants her. The dialogues are more often than not awful too. It sounds like something ChatGPT would write. Nearly every single interaction Max can have with basically anyone feels forced, and like people talk too much, or not enough, people say random thing that makes no sense and nobody cares, we suddenly hear Max’s thoughts in a middle of a conversation, there are awkward moments of silence. Painful to witness. Max has NO chemistry with either of her love interests (though the guy is somehow more interesting than the girl to interact with), and manages to have more romantic moments with her best friend who she’s not supposed to be into than with them. Both those love interests are useless and suck anyway, because they will both end up rejecting Max by the end anyway, and apparently won’t even return, which strikes the question of why the romantic plot lines were even involved. (Which also made me hate Amanda a lot. I guess she is somewhat likable at the beginning of the game, but she gradually becomes annoyingly pushy and ends up telling Max she’s too much to deal with at the end of the game anyway). Also, it’s annoying how obvious it is that the romantic plot line is way more explored with Amanda than it is with Vihn. Stop making Max look like she’s basically a lesbian but not completely because she hooks up with guys sometimes. Stop bisexual erasure, basically.

The game gives up on its own plot in the middle of it. It was promoted as a murder mystery but stop being one after a while to become a What The Hell Is Going On With Safi kind of thing. Also, there’s the whole thing with the detective. Why did they even create him only to treat him as a joke and never explain what happened with him. One of the most confusing thing about this game. What the hell was that for.

The nightmare sequence. God, how I hate it. If you want to deal with Max’s trauma, do it WELL. It’s a go big or go home thing, not a ‘let’s put some sort of references but never properly deal with anything’. IT WAS SO FRUSTRATING. There’s references about Chloe everywhere, and never Chloe. I get it, you don’t want her to be in this game. But if you do want to talk about Max’s trauma, you gotta swallow your pride and put her somewhere anyway. Max can’t have a nightmare about the things that traumatized her without Chloe being there. It just makes it even more obvious how much the studio avoided to put her in the game on purpose. The bathroom scene? God, please, what the fuck was that. Why would Max think of herself as some kind of Nathan Prescott parallel?? The only thing they had in common was pointing a gun at someone. That’s it. That was another poor attempt of the game to try and not put Chloe there but still say ‘look!! Max still thinks about her and is traumatized!! But she somehow dreams about it without seeing her face once!!’ like just stop. And the Dark Room part felt very underwhelming too. Kudos to Hannah Telle for the amazing voice acting on this, but the scene lasted ten seconds. Just don’t put it there, please.

The nightmare isn’t needed in every LiS game. So isn’t the Storm. So aren’t the nosebleed. Why does Diamond get nosebleed because of her powers? That was a Max thing. Daniel didn’t get nosebleed, Alex didn’t get nosebleed, Chris didn’t get nosebleed. (Rachel didn’t get nosebleed either). Why is this suddenly something everybody get because of their powers?? And why do every powers suddenly create Storms. It’s not a common Powers Problem, it was a Rewind Powers thing. God, this makes me mad.

And last but not least. The final choice. It felt so??? Underwhelming??? I use this word a lot, but it’s how the whole game feels for me. The LiS choices are hard to pick. There’s no morally wrong or right answer. It depends on who you are, what you stand for. The first game was about learning how to let go or refuse to let your friend get ruined by fate. The second game was about giving your life up for your brother to have a chance or refusing to give up on what you believe in and what makes you who you are, no matter what. Before the Storm was about protecting your loved ones from the truth or refusing to lie to them and let them hurt. True Colors was about forgive the unforgivable in the name of compassion or hold a grudge in the name of family.

And then there’s this game. ‘Do you wanna join the X-men me and my team of supervillains and take over the world lol’. Why would Max say yes to that. Just why. If you want to play the game in character, it’s obvious that you have to pick ‘refuse’. If you want to play an out of character evil Max just for the sake of it because it’s fun, alright! I don’t blame you. It’s fun. But why on Earth would Max Caulfield agree.

Also, they take you for an idiot with the cat content. Do NOT waste your money on it, you will regret it.

Anyway. This game would’ve been okay if it hadn’t been apart of the LiS franchise, and if it had starred a different main character. I still would’ve thought it was confusing and generally not great, but at least it wouldn’t have felt like such a let down. (Side note: everything I’ve said doesn’t include Moses and Gwen. I want to put them in my pocket and carry them around with me forever. Love them a lot.)

And congratulations if you’ve read this far. I probably would’ve gone ‘I ain’t reading allat’ and scrolled

[shamelessfaceless]

Love, Pain, Death, Repeat

Navigation | Marvel masterlist | part II

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x F!reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: Even death won't help you get rid off her and pain she caused.

Warnings: Mentions of death, cheating, angst

Wc: 600

A/n: Just a fast sad blurb, hope you like this <33

Your mouth is dry, completely opposite to your eyes. Pinning Natasha to the ground you let your tears fall. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but after hearing what you needed to do, you were sure it was the time.

"Think about Yelena! Your facking sister! Think what would she say if I told her that you killed yourself!" You yelled at her though she was so close to you she would hear your whispers.

"And you? You have a whole life ahead of you! You're so young! You are doing what you need, you're nice and brave, you put others before you, you are a hero people need!"

"I don’t have anyone! Anyone! I spent last years crying in my room! People don’t remember me! I don’t even remember who I am."

"Y/N" She tried to change positions. You didn't let her. You couldn't let her.

"I am not enough. I never was. Everyone knows Black Widow or Iron Man or Hawkeye! Even she showed me I was never enough!" You were almost sobbing, your tears falling on Natasha’s suit. "She choosed fucking microwave!"

When you saw Wanda for the first time, you fell almost in the same second. Literally fell. You wanted to come closer, but your legs had other plans, and you fell straight into her arms. This made her laugh. That was the first thing that actually made her show positive emotions after her brother died. Most of the night spended in your room only talking changed into spending nights in yours and hers own room. After your old relationships you were negative about love, but you started trusting her, it meant so much for you. She promised you stars. It didn't take long for her to take interest in Vision. You trusted her with your whole heart, and all she did was break it. He was just a robot, you thought you didn't need to care about him. Maybe he was a little bit too nice to Wanda, but she wouldn’t fall for cold metal, right? Oh how wrong you were. After one of the missions, you came back to your room just to see her covered in hickeys that for sure weren’t yours. You just sat on the floor and told her to get out.

"You will meet someone else. Just give yourself a chance. For fucking sake, if you let yourself forget her, you will find true love and maybe have kids or cats." Russian was strong, you started feeling like your arms were going to give up.

"She cheated on me, and soon after she disappeared. Women always choose men." You said disgustedly. Your every relationships ended because they chose to be with men. "Tell everyone I loved them." You stabbed her hand to distract her.

You started running to the end of the cliff. Black Widow’s screams didn’t stop you. Just as you jumped you looked behind to see Natasha, she was so close catching you, just a few seconds and you would be still alive. You smiled to her wondering if she could see it, and closed your eyes. Last thing in your mind was the memory of one specific lazy morning with Maximoff. Morning when she promised you cozy life, no avengers, just you and her in a big house and kids.

…

Opening your eyes you expected to see your dead parents, not two young boys.

"Good morning my love." Your head snapped to the door of the room. Wanda stood there, width smile on her lips, her eyes shining a little bit with red.

[thetrialsandtribulationsofeb]

it still blows my mind how many times buck and eddie’s relationship is paralleled to the relationships of canonical couples in this show, sometimes even in the same episode

the writers could’ve easily come up with some significant others for buck and eddie and written these storylines for them to show their love

(i feel like they tried to do it with taylor, but she and buck still gave off more of a friends-with-benefits vibe than an actual meant-to-be couple. plus, buck fucked it up when he reverted to buck 1.0 after eddie left the 118 anyway (still think they should’ve broken them up after buck cheated instead of making her the “villain”))

but the truth is, it only works with buck and eddie. like, it’s always been them - because their characters’ stories are so interconnected. they just work together. they heal each other’s inner children

and it’s exactly how it works in real life

sometimes best friends end up together because they realize the person they want most in their life IS their best friend, and there’s no point in trying to find other partners anymore

and it’s kind of the same case with bathena and madney, where they “trauma bonded” and their coupling just makes sense for their characters (though it’s thanks to jennifer love hewitt, because she was the one who wanted maddie to get together with chimney - she had the vision, and she is the queen)

so buck and eddie’s characters really are just accidentally in love

and it’s mind-blowing and beautiful

this show just scratches my brain in all the right parts with how soulmate-coded it is

also, it’s so interesting for me to compare henchim with buddie, ‘cause hen and chimney are great best friends too - they’re partners in crime, they’re soulmates in a platonic sense, they share a lot of cool moments together

but with buddie, there’s always this underlying energy of: “i kind of wouldn’t mind sharing my whole life with you and raising a child together”, “i kind of can’t stop looking at you with hearts in my eyes”, “i kind of treat you like my romantic partner even though i’m officially in a relationship with someone else, because no other person fits into my life as perfectly as you do”, “i kind of hated you when we first met because your body is too beautiful for my taste”

i mean, they explained it themselves when they talked about christopher:

“well, it wasn’t too much different than when he hangs out with one of his guy friends”

“except only in one case is there underlying sexual tension” (and then he does that thing with the fire extinguisher, like, i’m sorry, what??)

like, that’s exactly how relationships work. sometimes you meet people and end up in a platonic relationship with them because there’s no romantic chemistry. and sometimes you meet people and end up in a romantic relationship with them because there is. it’s not really rocket science

but these two idiots are so oblivious and repressed and so close to each other that they don’t see and don’t understand that their case falls under the “underlying sexual tension” category, from the very beginning

they were never ever “just” friends, ‘cause this is the weirdest friendship i’ve ever seen

and i like how they called each other “bros” only two times on screen - ‘cause i guess then they just decided to stop using that word for each other ‘cause it felt weird. like, he’s not my “brother”. he’s my bud. my man. my pal. definitely not “bro”. that feels weird, ew (but this is a completely normal straight platonic companionship between us, yeah. no weird under-the-surface feelings that we can’t describe or define)

it’s like: buddie becomes canon, but they do the same things they did before they officially started dating, except now they also kiss and fuck each other

like, seriously, why would anything change in their dynamic, when they’ve always been like this?

[obsessedelusional]

Internets Favorite Fangirl

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ You are the internets most famous fangirl. You were a famous actor with no shame in thirsting over celebrities. So naturally you’re very public about your love with Pedro Pascal. Only to switch up when watching TLOU, fancying Bella. What happens when you show up to an award show they’re both attending? poorly proofread

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ hey sorry I’ve been mia I missed all y’all and want to start posting again anyways here’s a bellaxreader I wrote several months ago lmao im gonna post a few bella things I’ve been working on and even venture into tlou ((Abby Anderson is the love of my FUCKING LIFE)) ily bye

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

It had become a reoccurring theme in your press interviews to be asked who your recent celebrity crush was. It started when you landed your first big movie. Shortly after the release in a chance to find out more about you fans search the internet for any crumb they could find. Someone found an old Harry Styles fan page you had when you were a teen. You were absolutely mortified by the stuff they were finding. Deleting it wouldn’t undo it so you learned to embrace it. Quickly becoming the internets most famous fan girl.

Making TikTok’s and tweets thirsting after unattainable celebrities. The whole internet eating it up and thirsting along with you. Your most recent viral moment was a TikTok you made featuring the infamous dvcree Pedro Pascal edit. Your face green screened over the original with a caption talking about this singular edit has taken over your for you page and you were enjoying every second of it.

With the upcoming release of the anticipated second movie to your most popular role you were busy doing press work. Sometimes by yourself but mostly with the rest of the cast. Today you were invited to do an google auto complete video with you male costar, Johnathan, who plays your love interest.

The first board asking where your from, then your age, and other basic questions. The next board is handed to you all the google searches begin with ‘who’.

“Who is y/n?” You read aloud laughing as you read.

“I am. That’s me. I act sometimes but mostly embarrass myself on the internet.” You costar laughs agreeing with the last half of your statement.

“Who is y/n dating?”

“I wish I had some juicy gossip to share but I’m as single as it gets.”

“Who is y/n’s celebrity crush?” You sit there and think, your smile grows bigger when it comes to your mind.

“Oh this one’s easy. I know.” Jonathan says.

“Who?”

“Pedro Pascal.”

“Pssssh that was so last week.” Jonathan audibly gasps.

“Who then?”

“We’ll it’s actually his fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

“Pedro’s.”

“Please explain.” Jonathan says confused.

“Well I’m late on the train but I just binged watch The Last of Us. I was the last of us to watch it.” You laugh at your own joke, Jonathan doesn’t only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Anyways I started watching it for Pedro but stayed for Bella Ramsey.”

“Bella? The one who played Ellie?” Jonathan asks, his face telling you he doesn’t get it.

“Yeah them. You may not understand but the girls will get it.” You respond.

“Okay you heard it here first y/n is single and wants Bella Ramsey. My turn.” He says as he reaches for his board to read off the questions directed at him.

—

A few days pass before the video is released. Your publicist notify you it’s out and you don’t dare watch it, just pray that you didn’t do anything to embarrassing this time. It doesn’t take long before your notifications are flooded with people talking about the interview. You read a few before realizing a theme, Bella.

Everyone is tagging Bella in clips of you gushing over her. An edit of you saying the girls will get it followed by edited clips of Bella to the beat of a song. You may have watched it one too many times before favoriting it. Just as you about to close TikTok you get an Instagram notification from a verified account. It’s Bella following you, you click the notification not believing for a second it’s real.

But it is.

—

Two weeks ago Bella had made the first move by following you on Instagram. The internet went crazy when they realized quickly shipping the two of you. No one realizing that was the extent of your relationship, mutually following each other on instagram. It had crossed your mind at least a hundred times, you had drafted plenty first messages. Always deleting your words before you could muster up the courage to press send.

Tonight no different, you were in the process of preparing for a movie and tv awards show. In your dressing room being pampered by your glam squad. Clicking away at your phone looking for any sign that Bella was going to be here tonight. If they were you’d have no choice by to say hello. Cursing yourself because if only you had messaged Bella beforehand this would be less awkward.

A knock at your door steals your attention and your crew stops what there doing. The door opens revealing your manager, the biggest grin on her face. Something was up.

“We have a surprise for you.” She sings with a soft smile.

“So finish what your doing and meet us in room A3.” She says before shutting the door. You ask your team if they know what’s happening but they all answer with a shrug of the shoulders.

—

“Why are there cameras?” You ask as your guided to room A3. The door is shut, your mind races wondering what it could possibly be. Everyone around you is looking suspiciously excited for what’s about to happen. Your instructed to open the door so you do so, peaking your head in as it creeps open.

With nothing more than your head in the room, you peek around into the darkness. Blinded momentarily when the light turns on from inside. Blinking as an attempt to get your sight back your greeted by none other than Pedro Pascal.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You spit following with a squeal as you shut the door. Leaving Pedro alone in the room with whoever else in there. He erupts into laughter, a sound you had heard many times online.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” You turn around ready to run greeted by the camera shoved in your face. Realizing you have no choice in this matter. With a nervous breakdown around the corner you open the door. Peaking your head once again making eye contact with Pedro.

“I’m sorry.” You say too afraid to approach already had made a fool of yourself.

“Don’t be.” Pedro laughs, calming your nerves temporarily.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage to spit out.

“Hi honey,” he smiles and waves, making you melt. The two of your still stood a few feet apart. You’re looking him up and down and moving your gaze onto your manger who’s sat in the corner motioning you to get closer.

“You can come closer. I don’t bite.. I mean unless…” His voice trails off and turns into laughter. You laugh before closing the gap, hugging Pedro. After you pose next to Pedro as photos are taken. His arm rests on your shoulder. You look up at the man next to you he’s already looking down at you.

“I was so excited to meet you a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” You ask.

“A little over a month.” Your manager answers.

“Yeah then you had to go and switch up on me.” He sighs dramatically, letting his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did-“

“Don’t act so innocent Y/N. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your new found love for Bella.” Your eyes go wide realizing what he’s talking about.

“They better not pop up out of nowhere. I can’t handle two surprises today.”

“See exactly it’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.” Pedro whines face falling.

“You do matter but…” You start to go on about Bella but stop your self.

“But what?” Pedro must notice your the worry in your face because he takes it back.

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He teases.

—

“It really was nice meeting you.” You say your goodbyes but decide to follow it up with an apology for your actions when you were surprised. The cameras were gone now.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be worried. Bella’s not gonna be happy with me.” Your ears perk up at the mention of Bella not being happy.

“Why?”

“I’ve said to much.” He attempts to change the conversation.

“Wait you can’t just say that and pretend like you didn’t.” He let’s out a defeated sigh in response.

“Bella has not shut up about you in weeks. I tried to convince them to tag along but they refused. Which turned into a whole thing. Bella made me promise several times not to embarrass them.” Pedro rambles on before stopping face full of regret.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” You respond.

“Deal.”

Maybe you don’t plan on repeating the words that had come out of Pedro’s mouth but they surely lit the fire in your self to finally message Bella or maybe even say hello if you saw them tonight. Your rushed to finish getting ready before being instructed to walk the carpet. Taking pictures first and then stopping to do mini interviews.

Your in the middle of the red carpet where your stood answering questions for some publication. When you hear the crowd and paparazzi roar. Bella is stood next to Pedro, they’re holding hands. Pedro giving his full attention to the cameras while Bella is sneaking glances at you. In front of the camera still and the interviewer waiting for an answer you smile one last time, waving softly before going back to answering. Your whole demeanor changing from the subtle interaction with Bella, suddenly a little more smiley than before.

-

Eventually you’re seated at table, you say your hellos to the few people sitting with you. The seats next to you empty, so you take a peek at the name tags on table. Pedro is suppose to be sat right next to and Bella next to him. You don’t have time to process it because you hear the voice of the man who’s suppose to be sitting next to you. You turn around and he’s busy talking, no sign of Bella. You face forward in your seat, pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Told I’m sitting next to you but I don’t want to.” Pedro says from behind you. You smile politely kind of confused watching as he changes Bella’s name place with his. Sitting down where Bella was suppose to be. He sports the biggest grin as you realizing what he’s doing. He whispers you’re welcome before averting his attention else where.

Within seconds your planning your escape but it doesn’t matter because the familiar British accent fills your ears as they chat up some other people at a nearby table. If you left now it’d be too obvious, so you sit there painfully waiting for Bella to sit right next to you. A few long minutes pass before you fill the seat being pulled out and someone sitting down. You look over and smile, making eye contact with Bella who’s a few inches away.

“Hi.” Bella says with a shy smile.

“Hi.” You say back, barely a whisper.

“This is kinda crazy. I’ve never been to an event this big. Especially in America, this is on a whole other level.” Bella explains, staring a conversation.

“Oh yeah you’re probably far from home. Where do you live?” You ask, you already know the answer but Bella doesn’t need to know all that.

“The UK.” Bella responds.

“Oh damn. I’ve had to make that trip a few times. Absolute hell.” You say causing Bella to laugh lightly.

“Yeah kinda. Getting used to it after so many times. It’s usually worth it.”

“Well I hope this time is worth it.” You respond, you haven’t stopped smiling since Bella sat down.

“It already is.” Bella teases, their tone a bit flirty causing you to temporarily malfunction unable to come up with a response. Thank god some camera man comes by asking Pedro and Bella to take some pictures before the show starts.

As soon as Bella’s attention isn’t on you anymore your aggressively messaging your best friend, freaking the fuck out. As you’re typing some one grabs you hand, trying to get you to stand up. It’s Pedro and he’s begging for a photo with you. You happily oblige standing up but Pedro has a plan, posing you next to Bella. He takes a few photos with the two of you before stepping out of the way. Your unsure what to do but without notice Bella arm is around your waist. Pulling you a little closer, you smile for the picture and then look to Bella who’s already looking at you causing you to smile even bigger than before.

—

You two spend the beginning of the award show chatting in between breaks and sneaking glances at each other. Pedro constantly giving you looks, letting you know he’s happy with what’s happening. About half way though the show, a member of the shows staff comes to grab you and Pedro. Apparently the two of you presenting a reward.

You were not prepared for this in the slightest but it’s not the first time, you’ll be fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s your time to go out, Pedro follows closely behind. You smile as everyone starts to cheer, when your finally to the podium Pedro begins reading off the teleprompter. You can’t help but cringe as the words as they come out, praying that it’s not too obvious.

“Today we’re here to present the award for break out actress.” Pedro says.

“Yeah… it’s been so amazing watching these nominees make their dreams come true.” You say through gritted teeth.

“With enough hard work and dedication, your dreams are possible. Just like her dreams.” He laughs, pointing to you.

“What do you mean Pedro?” You read off, sounding entirely out of touch with the words coming out. Confused where this could possibly going.

“Your hard work at being a fangirl, has finally paid off. You got to meet me. The man of your dreams.” Pedro can barley finish, laughing harder than he should be. Stopping every other word to laugh or catch his breath from laughing so hard. You don’t have any words being prompted at you, so you laugh and agree. Being shut up by the sound of your own voice being blasted from behind you.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You hear and followed by the sound of a door being slammed. You turn around in horror seeing yourself, on the biggest screen freaking out about meeting Pedro.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” Plays on the screen, your curse words being bleeped. This is more embarrassing than anything you could’ve imagined that they had planned for this footage. You watch in full disgust too afraid to face the crowd of thousands. You hear them laughing at every stupid thing that leaves your mouth in the video, adding to your embarrassment.

When the video finally ends, Pedro gives you a hug. Saying something about how it’s okay in your ear but you’re far too gone from the moment to understand him. You turn to the face the crowd, the actor in your turning on.

“Well that was embarrassing.” You laugh.

“It’s okay, everyone loved it.” Pedro responds.

“Yeah everyone but me. Anyways, the nominees are…” You say as at attempt to make this end sooner. The nominees play in the background as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the crowd, just kinda looking off in the distance. Especially Bella because you two were hitting it off so we’ll and now the whole room, including Bella, just watched Pedro talk about your new found love for them.

Pedro starts ripping at an envelope letting you know it’s time to announce. The both of you read of the winner and start clapping. When the winner gets to the stage, you hug them before moving out of the way. Listening intently as they give their speech. It’s finally time to leave and you waste absolutely no time getting off that stage. Once backstage your overwhelmed by the sheer amount of good jobs and laughs at what just happened to you. Your manger tells you that was perfect.

“No more suprises please that was horrible.” You mutter, embarrassed and ready for the night to be over. Your manager apologizes. You make the walk back to the table, being stopped several times on the way. When you finally see your seat, Bella sees you. They flash a smile at you as you sit down. Pedro following close behind.

“That was something.” Bella says teasingly.

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You say not finding it funny.

“Why are you apologizing?” They ask, face full of concern.

“Because I opened my big mouth and dragged you into this.”

“I don’t mind. I actually kinda enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” You ask, your sour mood suddenly disappearing.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy one of the most beautiful and talented actors out there publicly simping for them?” Bella says, bringing your smile back.

“Beautiful?”

“Mhmm and talented.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking whenever you can. Pedro often inserting himself, neither of you minding. When it finally ends you can’t help but feel sad. Wishing the night could some how continue. You say your goodbyes, hugging Pedro. Then hugging Bella, a little longer than the hug with Pedro.

“It was nice meeting you.” You say as you pull away.

“You too.” Bella smiles as you walk away, your manager hounding you to get back to the dressing room so you can leave.

“How long are you in town?” You ask.

“I actually have to get on a plane back tomorrow afternoon.” Bella responds, sadness apparent in their voice.

“Oh well, shit that sucks.”

“What do you normally do after an award show?” Bella asks.

“Normally I get some terrible fast food and rot in bed until I fall asleep.” You respond honestly.

“I could go for some terrible fast food..” Bella says, with a hint of hope you’d understand what they were trying to say.

“I’d love it if you joined me.” You say, blush appearing. You make plans with Bella, letting them know you’d have to go to dressing room and unglam yourself. Bella understands following you to the dressing room, waiting for you outside of it. Eventually you come out in sweats, hair tied up and no more makeup.

“We’ll now I feel overdressed.” Bella teases, noticing your causal attire.

“You can borrow some clothes at mine.” You say, not realizing that you’re unofficially inviting Bella over to your home. Bella nods yes, biggest smile plastered on their face as they follow you out of the venue.

—

An hour later, Bella and you are laid up in bed. Tummy’s full watching some bad reality show. Doesn’t matter because you two can’t stop talking, not paying much attention to the tv. The conversation flows naturally, never missing a beat. Little did you know the internet was actively loosing their shit over all the content of the two of you tonight. Unaware of all of it, neither of you feeling any need to check your phones.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you tonight.” You say when the conversation starts to lull.

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to message you for weeks but I was absolutely terrified.” Bella admits.

“Me too. I was scared shitless when I realized you were sitting next to me. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.” You say, looking at Bella who suddenly seems way closer than before. Tension between the two of you is heavy.

“Not at all.” Bella reassures you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You sure? Because I still can’t believe-“ Your words are cut off by Bella kissing you softly, pulling away quickly.

“I like you. Okay? Please don’t fret over it.” Bella laughs, your laid there in shock. The biggest stupidest grin on your face.

“I like you too.” You whisper barley audible cause you’re quick with pressing your lips to Bella’s. This kid lasting a lot longer than the first.

—

The next morning, you two sleep in after staying up late. Only giving you two an hour before Bella has to get on the plane. You offer to drive Bella to their hotel, so they can pack and end up dropping them off at the airport too. Saying goodbye with a sweet kiss and plans to see each other in the near future.

You get into your car and pull out of the airport. A whole mix of emotions. Happy because of the prospects of a relationship with Bella but also sadness because Bella lives so far away. If the two of you do end up making it official, it’ll be long distance. The short drive home is spent in silence trying to figure out of the feelings your currently experiencing all at once. When you pull into your garage, your phone goes off its Bella.

Bella: thank you for last night, had so much fun and I can’t wait to see you again

You: is it stupid that I kinda miss you already?

Bella: I miss you too xxx

You catch yourself smiling so hard at your phone. Before you can respond Bella messages you again letting you know that their getting on the plane, they’ll message you as soon as they can. You shoot a short sweet message back and close the messages app.

You start opening your social media apps and your mentions are flooded with Bella and you at the award show. Hundred of photos from the event. People taking notice of the way you two were looking at each other. Then photos of you two leaving together. Most recently blurry photos of you off someones phone, outside of the airport saying goodbye to Bella.

“That was fast.” You groan aloud to yourself. Everyone is assuming the two of you are dating and you can’t blame them. You have a dozen unread messages from family, friends and people on your team.

A notification lets you know Pedro tagged you in a story. You click it and it’s the blurry photo of you kissing Bella outside the airport, with text that says ‘you’re welcome’. He tagged you and Bella in it. You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Praying that Bella has knowledge of all this and isn’t blindsided when they get off the plane.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was dealing with a lot of firsts today. 

The biggest one being the first time he was getting married. Though, Eddie really hoped it wouldn’t be the last. If his fantasies about this day came true he was going to have to insist on a vow renewal somewhere down the line. Fuck it, if even a quarter of what he wanted came through he’d still insist on it. He was never not going to like showing Steve off, and this was the most ostentatious way he could get away with. 

Next, and most distressing, this was the first time Eddie had ever felt the lethal mixture of being incredibly happy and horrifyingly nauseous. He had no idea that a person could feel both things at once, and Eddie was starting to think the ability was just a flaw of the human condition. 

And last, he is a 100 percent sure he had never been this damn nervous in his entire life. Especially when the source of it was entirely self-made. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how he used to feel with Steve, back when he decided to be a fucking crazy person. 

But this was so much worse. 

“You really need to relax,” Chrissy said for the hundredth time, watching as Eddie fiddled in front of the mirror, “That anti-perspirant can only go so far.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. He was on one today, he knew that. But knowing it wasn’t stopping any of his anxiety. Eddie was trying to fix his hair in the mirror, suddenly unpleased with how it was styled but unwilling to go bother the stylist that did it. She was busy enough with everyone else, let alone the fact that he didn’t even know why he didn’t like it. If anything he was just making it worse. But then again, Steve always said he liked his hair wild, right?

“Hon, I’m serious,” Chrissy sighed, grabbing for his hand to drag him away, “You are driving yourself crazy for nothing. Everything is going to be okay. He’s going to be there. Are you forgetting that it was Steve who asked you to marry him?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even now. The little shit had beaten him to the punch by a matter of days, completely ruining Eddie’s elaborate proposal plans. No, instead Steve decided to do it in the dead of night, getting down on one knee in the middle of their living room after getting destroyed at an impromptu game of scrabble. 

Eddie should have seen it coming, he really should have. But he had been so caught up trying to plan his own proposal he had completely missed the signs. Like how Steve kept picking movies that involved proposals and weddings, and how he was always very interested in what Eddie thought of them. Eddie just hadn’t realized how many notes he’d been taking around his innocuous comments. Not until Steve showed him the scrawled out list he had made down the line:

Not public, he said he wouldn’t want to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. Not again (whoops, sorry babe but at least this one would have been happy tears?)

Close to a bed or a bed-like surface for “celebrating” (I should have seen that one coming)

Diamonds are apparently ~stupid~ so look at colored stones instead (maybe emerald for his birthstone? Stick with sliver tones.)

No where cold so he can focus on the moment instead of freezing

Make it a surprise (But not outside? I don’t want to wait till summer though. Maybe I can do it randomly? Like when his back is turned?)

Write. A. Speech.

Eddie had to give it to him, his notes weren’t in vain. It had been amazing. Tailor-made to him in a way he didn’t even fully get until it was over. Because he had started crying, right in the middle of their living room with no one but Steve to see him. And it had felt so fucking safe. There was no embarrassment, no worrying over someone he didn’t know taking their moment to share with more strangers, none of it. It was just them. 

He had fucking loved the ring, the colors, the style, all of it fit him perfectly. The only thing he loved more had been dragging Steve straight to their bedroom spoil him rotten for hours. The speech had been beautiful, for what he had managed to hear through his own excitement and tears. He had ended up asking Steve to write it down for him considering how he couldn’t trust his own memory. Now it sat on a cute index card he kept in his wallet, right alongside his cute scrawled out list, a constant reminder that Steve Harrington wanted him.

It had been perfect. Almost too perfect. Perfect enough for Eddie to be where he was right now, the doubt of how he ended up with Mr. Perfect. 

from the upcoming last chapter of this fic

[philsmeatylegss]

To be absolutely real, even if there was no science proving it, no people testifying to how important it is, I still would 100% support trans people. One of my core beliefs is that if someone is doing something that isn’t harmful to others or themselves, there is no reason to intervene. I don’t have to understand trans people even to support them. I believe so heavily in bodily autonomy that even if someone wanted to change their gender just to fuck around, I’d still support it. You cannot be for freedom of expression or pro bodily autonomy and be transphobic. Those ideologies literally contradict the other at its core. There has never been any proof that being trans causes someone to harm themselves, in fact, there’s an abundance of truth showing that not allowing a person to transition makes a person a fuck ton more likely to harm themselves. And I’ve never seen any proof that being trans directly correlates to hurting others. You see terfs pull news stories where (mostly) trans women commit horrific crimes, but don’t seem to realize there’s no connection between the gender and the crime. Like you can be trans and commit awful crimes. The two can coexist. And cases where men dress as women to commit crimes doesn’t count because they’re no trans women. They’re predators.

If you literally took away every single piece of medical and anecdotal evidence supporting being trans as a real thing, I still would support it unconditionally because I believe freedom of expression and complete bodily autonomy is a human right. Simple as that. Person wants to be a different gender and the process doesn’t involve harm to themselves or others, I genuinely cannot understand what argument there is left.

That’s why I always found it so interesting that most, if not all, terfs are pro choice. An opinion rooted in bodily autonomy and a process that causes harm to no one.

Idk. I just always think about how the first time I even heard of a trans person, i had no issue about it because of this very reason. Even at my young age of like 11, 12 maybe, before I understood anything behind it, I thought it was okay because I believe people have the right to exist as they want. I’ll be real. I’m cis. I believe it’s impossible for me to every fully grasp what a trans person even feels. To fully understand their experience that justifies transitioning. A lot of times I see shit about gender and whatnot and it makes no fucking sense to me. But I cannot find any logical reason for me, as someone who believes so heavily in bodily autonomy and freedom of expression, to deny their right to exist. It doesn’t matter if I understand or not. Because it has nothing to do with me. A person transitioning literally has no impact on me or my well-being. And if it’s safe and a person feels better, I just don’t see why it’s so hard to understand.

Idk, people like to say they’re for shit like freedom of expression until it comes to something they don’t understand or wouldn’t personally do. And that’s because they aren’t actually for freedom of expression. Same when it comes to bodily autonomy. It’s just one of those things that I don’t even understand why it is a big deal. Why it upsets so many people. You literally could not be less impacted personally by something than when it comes to a person transitioning. The only person that impacts is the person transitioning. It requires no involvement from you unless you force yourselves in. Idk, I just will never understand being against trans people as it just seems so logical to me

[lightlycareless]

I saw your posts about how Naoya doesn’t want a third in his bedroom activities with Y/N and how he reacted with Naoaki. But do you think that Naoya would ever let Toji join in as a third? I can’t quite tell if he would or if that’d be even more intimidating to him since he couldn’t think how you couldn’t be super into it with Toji. It probably wouldn’t happen either way since you mentioned in one of works that Y/N is intimidated/a little scared of Toji

Hello!!

Not going to lie, I’m really happy something like this popped up in my ask hahahahah I was waiting for it!! It was inevitable, you know???

But now, going onto a more serious note—

After thinking about it and really wanting to say that Naoya wouldn’t share you even if it was Toji we’re talking about… because like, he admires Gojo but he wouldn’t allow that with him, right?

However, the admiration he has for Toji is at a completely different level compared to anyone else, and if he began to show the simplest of interests in Y/N, there’s no doubt in my mind that Naoya would try to create interactions between the tw, so they’d get to know each other, spend time, that kind of stuff.

 But does that mean he’d allow him to fuck you?

… Toji would first have to show interest in you like that in order to even be considered.

Warnings: mentions of infidelity (I’d go with dub-con at this point) mentions of pregnancy, and Toji mocking Naoya in all crude ways possible. Also, someone likes this kind of stuff a bit. (honestly this is me just wanting to write something with toji. the actual answer is on the bottom lol) SMUUUTTTT MINORS DNI.

a sequel can be found here.

It happens soon after you’re brought to the estate.

You’re the newest addition to the Zen’in clan: a bright smiled, innocent looking girl that surprisingly (not really) fell into the claws of the heir.

Toji had become accustomed to the women that caught Naoya’s interest—the type that would make anyone think “of course he likes someone like her.”

But they never lasted beyond two sightings before he was already with someone else, and certainly, no one ever thought of them as suitable candidates for marriage.

Eventually they stopped appearing all together, and for a long time, Naoya was single as he could be… until you arrived.

Someone so… different to Naoya in every sense of the word, far outside his typical interest, or malleability. Yet you managed to not only catch his attention but persuade him into marriage—and it seemed you wanted him too.

It’s safe to say that these things made Toji deeply intrigued by you—and not only because of your outstanding merits towards his seemingly unconquerable cousin, but also because on a personal level, he found you a beauty hard to ignore, much more delightful than those before you, and soon, he finds himself somehow understanding why the wimpy heir decided to marry you.

But his amazement doesn’t stop there, reaching a new high when finally meeting you, face to face, for the first time. It wasn’t just your aura, which he considered to be highly unfitting to the surrounding environment, that affected his perception, but the way you treated him as well.

Even when intimidated by his presence— just as he expected, used to it by now—you still remained amicable towards him; to the disgrace of the Zen’in, the stain in the family lineage no one even dared look at, less mention.

Not to you though. To you, he was Naoya’s cousin, his admiration, the one he sets as inspiration when it comes to strength, partaking in small talk whenever possible before retreating, but not without expressing how you’d like to see him around more often, perhaps even drink tea together one day…

Toji is completely smitten by you at this point, and the question of how you even set your eyes on Naoya, when there were so much better options, quickly settles in his mind.

But perhaps how you managed to inundate his thoughts, to the point you are all he thinks about, is the bigger question in turn.

The topic of a threesome is nothing more than a fantasy to him at that point— highly unexpected, if not impossible, and completely avoided…

That is, until tensions between you, Naoya, and Toji, become far too much to ignore.

It would start with Toji complimenting you, like the devil whispering against your husband’s ear, he’d say…

“You have a beautiful wife, Naoya.”

And your husband is somewhat elated to see that his idol approves of you, somewhat seeking his approval one way or the other.

But after his words become more cryptic, to say the least, hesitation begins to flourish in Naoya’s mind.

“Do you ever wonder she feels lonely after you leave for work? In this wide, cold manor… it’s impossible not to—I know all about it, after all.”

“… is there something you want, Toji-kun?”

Here is where the idea finally makes its appearance in your and Naoya’s conversation—offered by you, shockingly, but not because you were interested, rather, because that’s the conclusion you arrived to after hearing Naoya’s request of, in his own words…

“I want you to spend more time with Toji-kun, so he doesn’t feel… lonely.”

“It almost sounds like you want me to fuck him.”

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it.”

He remains silent.

“Naoya… do you want me… to?”

You were nothing but highly aware of his admiration towards the man. The constant proclamations of his virtues the rest of the clan failed, or didn’t care, to observe—even going as far to defend him against them when needed.

It gave you a certain happiness to know that Naoya confided in someone that way, pushed him to overcome his limits, so naturally, you’d want to do anything for the man that brought out the best side of your husband.

But you never, not even in your most bizarre dreams, expected his fascination to go to these lengths.

However, as much as you were offended by his indiscreet suggestions, a very deep part of you was also… allured by it.

There is no reason to deny the mystery that surrounded Toji—a kind of atmosphere that even though terrifying to you, you still couldn’t keep your eyes away from him, silently trailing his every move from a safe distance while earnestly wondering what a man like him could spend his time on when away from the estate.

Does he… goes to see someone? Spend the night, or weeks, in someone’s arms whenever he didn’t come back?

Or indulge in shady business as most began to suspect? As the occurring scars appearing on his arms and chest suggested?

It’s not something you’ll get to know, you dejectedly reckon, but you suppose that getting to know him, even if just for a little bit, will make the invitation to your… nightly activities, all worthwhile.

“…so that you won’t feel lonely.” Is the excuse you go with when bringing up the matter to Toji—probably the dumbest one you could’ve given him considering how he doesn’t hesitate to erupt into laughter, amused by this silly, stupid pretext of yours.

As well as infuriated, for the one thing he hated the most right after his family, was being pitied.

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m some kind of miserable animal.” He scoffs once his glee dies. “Don’t come here, offering things you’re not even sure about, just because you want to feel good at my expense.”

Naoya and you rightfully conclude that not only had you been incredibly immature by going through with this unusual request, which wouldn’t have survived as long as it did have it been literally anyone else, but also, dented whatever little relationship the two had with him—although your concern sustained more for Naoya; you could only imagine how this strain would make him feel…

And yet, even when the foreseeable future had apparently darkened, closing windows for any kind of reconciliation thanks to his disgust towards the whole situation… something in Toji’s demeanor told you he hadn’t given up on the idea.

Whether because he saw the growing, genuine anxiety reflecting on the young couple’s face, or because he was glad his subtle actions finally paid off…

“But who am I to reject opportunities handed to me?” He adds—it’s almost undetectable, but something akin to desire flashes across his eyes. “If that’s what the heir and his lady  want, I’m nothing but your humble servant.”

You and Naoya agree on a night for everything to unfold, one that wasn’t necessarily intruding on his upcoming missions, but also fit in Toji’s schedule.

Either way, it’s safe to say that no amount of preparation could’ve done anything to ease your nerves.

Not even the constant reminder that you agreed to it, and now, had to keep your word.

The idea of inviting someone into your intimacy had always escaped your and Naoya’s minds. The reasoning behind it was simple: you did not want to do something like that in your marriage. It was almost… sacrilegious to even think about it. And Naoya agreed, too jealous to debate otherwise.

So now, that you’re here, waiting in your bedroom, just a few minutes away from those doors sliding open and welcoming that extra person in… it’s as nerve-wracking as you expected.

Almost to the point of calling it off…

But when Toji finally appears, in nothing less than a simple robe… something deep inside your conscience quickly reminds you why you were so willing to accept suggesting this offer, even when you had listed a thousand reasons not to.

You loved your husband very much, and there is no doubt in your soul that he is the love of your life, the future father of your children, the one you will spend the rest of your life with. You cannot imagine any other man in that position, none at all.

But tonight, and only for tonight… you wished to know what it felt to be touched by someone else.

By a man so intimidating, rejected by the same society that brought him onto this world, forced to be unruly, without inhibitions, just to have a chance to survive and eventually becoming nothing but shade, a monster that no one even dared to mutter his name for fear he’d come to haunt their existence—something that your husband never experienced, never had to.

Pristine, upkept, and highly controlling. That’s who Naoya was.

While Toji was like the forbidden fruit, that once the seed of curiosity was implanted in your mind, didn’t take long for you to seek after.

If you were to get one taste, if only a small one, you’ll be satisfied.

And in turn, you’d give him a chance to soil the values you represented: the untouchable wife of the heir, the woman Naoya desperately fought to obtain, the door to the next generation of Zen’in sorcerers…

All crumbling beneath the touch of someone they considered the lowest of the low, a disgrace.

This was supposed to be an affair between the three, with the obvious notion that you were to be shared amongst the two men, as equitable as possible, although with preference for Naoya.

However, Toji’s existence had always marked an exception to all rules, and your husband soon realizes that he wasn’t to be an active participant as he wished to be, and that perhaps, this was a bad idea all along…

Toji found it endearing to see how Naoya was trying to “get you in the mood” by kissing you, as if trying to cheer you up through this amoral endeavor, and do your best to please him, darling!

But the same time, it felt almost as if he were seeing a bunch of virgins discovering what sex was for the first time, which he did not have the patience for.

Feeling rather generous, Toji takes matters into his own hands by swiftly pulling you away from Naoya and forcing you to focus on him—coarse fingertips kneading and grabbing your skin as to remind you who you were doing this for in the first place—all while capturing your lips into a heated kiss that quickly takes your breath away.

“What? Don’t want this anymore?” he breathes hotly against your ear, making you squirm and whine in turn. But while his words were directed to you, his eyes are nothing but locked onto Naoya’s uneasy ones.

Your husband isn’t naïve when it comes to the teasing nature of those around him. How he believes everyone is out to get him, try to get what he has, yet failing miserably.

He’s seen it on Naoaki, how he attempts to get to him through you, teasing you, flustering you, but overall, keeping his attention on you, because after all what said and done, Naoya is still a figure of respect and he wouldn’t dare mess with him directly.

But Toji isn’t like that. He’s nothing like all he’s ever faced before. His cousin is relentless when it comes to disrespecting authority, more so when it comes to your husband. Naoya just makes it too easy.

Maybe it’s another way for him to get back at the Zen’’in. Spit on their faces and let them know that no matter how much they try to isolate him, look away whenever he crosses their paths, act like he doesn’t even exist—

A monkey like him will always find its way around them. To rattle them.

And he wants Naoya to see that.

He wants him to burn the image of his wife being ravaged by a lowlife like him—touching her, defiling her, and…

How she likes it.

“Do you see that? Do you see how well she takes me?” Toji breathes, a smirk on his lips as his eyes remain on the lewd way your cunt squeezed his cock as if struggling to hold him yet trying so hard to keep him inside.

Toji didn’t know whether to laugh at the seemingly too good to be true notion of the innocent, naïve, well liked by everyone wife of the heir throwing her hips back into him whenever he plunged his cock deep into her pussy.

At the way you’d moan whenever he abused that one spot that made you even tighter, the squelches of your greedy pussy evidently enjoying how your walls are being stretched, in ways it hadn’t as he was able to discern from Naoya’s size, or the squeals you’d gift him whenever teasing your asshole with his fingers, slapping your ass soon after, one of the many markings he’ll leave behind of this unforgettable night…

But most importantly, at the fact that Naoya was completely aroused by a man defiling his beloved wife. Because as much as he wished to place himself above it all, like he was hating the idea of sharing you, his throbbing cock and occasional rub in efforts to calm his frustration gives him away.

“Are you getting off with this, Naoya?” Toji would refer to him yet again, pace unrelenting as he subdues you beneath him. You can’t show it, but you’re glad you’re unable to see your husband’s face—it’s much too shameful to do so, if not terrifying.

But thrilling

“With the sight of your loyal wife, oh so dedicated to the heir…”

“St—Stop it To—Toj—ah!” you gasp when he pulls you by the hair, raising your face and forcing you to see Naoya, but with all the pleasure he’s giving you, you’re simply not there. “T—To—ji…!”

“And yet, here she is. Taking a monkey like me, right in front of your dear husband, like her life depended on it!”

“N—No…!” is what you manage to gasp through the brief seconds of awareness, doing your best to not show the feelings he was pushing your body through—obviously failing. “Don’t—don’t say—!”

You weren’t oblivious to this treatment.

After all, Naoya could be rough, borderline cruel, teasing, and yet…

He was nothing compared to Toji.

It’s always been like that. Even when many denied it, Toji was just on another level, and if his merits in the world of jujutsu didn’t show that, your incessant moans proved so.

“To—ji—Toji….!”

Naoya had long begun to feel as if he were watching something he shouldn’t—as if he were intruding on a couple’s intimacy, and not as if he were your husband, the partner in question…

But with the way Toji was fucking you, manhandling you into positions he wasn’t even aware he could do, less you tolerate… it’s like he was the one invited over for a threesome, and not the other way around.

“Look at her, Naoya.” He smirks, licking his lips as he continues pounding against you in the nth position that night—the one Naoya hated the most, for it forced him to take a good look at what was happening to you.

Toji had you with your legs raised, arms keeping you still and hands locked behind your head as his cocked plunged deep and viciously deeper into you, a lewd sight that Naoya couldn’t avoid due to the nature of this position.

Naoya could take any situation, perhaps even naively hoped that he would be able to withstand more of this if he didn’t get to see how Toji fucked you…  but he knew he had lost control of the situation the moment his cousin set his eyes on you, and now, couldn’t do anything but stare at the libidinous fact of his cock claiming your entrance repeatedly as you lose yourself into the pleasure.

“Look at the way her cunt takes me.”

Your husband doesn’t respond, he can’t, not when his gaze is solely focused on your blank eyes, mouth agape, drooling, while your moans reveal the overwhelming extent of pleasure he knows he’s never given you.

“She’s squeezing me so tight, it’s like she doesn’t want to let go!” Toji laughs, and really, he’s happy you don’t—this is confidently a thrill he hasn’t experienced in a long time, if ever!

It felt almost demoralizing to do such a thing, but yet, what will a man like him know about morale? Or even care after all the horrible things he’s gone through?

“Do you even fuck her right, cousin?”

He looks forward to keeping this moment in his heart till the end of his days…

If not longer, as the revelation that suddenly crosses his mind implies, the only moment that would snap you and Naoya out of trance when acknowledging this wasn’t just senseless rambles of a man drunken in pleasure, but a threat to their relationship, if not the clan.

“I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces once they figure out you’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Toji, don’t—” Naoya gasps, eyes snapping to his.

“N—No, To—Toji! is what little manage to muster before Toji locks you in on place once more, as if reminding you of your position before one of his hands snakes down to tease your sensitive bud, fingers roughly squeezing and twisting it, making you moan and tense as your orgasm pushes you closer and closer the edge—a sensation Toji can delightfully feel building up in his throbbing cock as well. “Ple—please Toji!”

Please what?

Please don’t cum inside you?

Or please cum inside you?

You don’t know at that point anymore.

But not that it matters, it’s not a decision for you to make anyways, not when he continues to plunge his cock against you, deeper as he could reach, bruising your cervix, against that spot that has you seeing stars, a few more strokes, and then—

He cums.

He cums, letting out all of his warm, thick seed into your tight walls, and filling you to the brim. Deep inside your core and with an extravagant amount you couldn’t hold, managing to escape through the rim of your entrance and drip down onto the sheets, a sight Naoya could not peel his eyes away from, reinforcing the overwhelming feeling of wrongness against all, and yet… he did nothing to stop it.

Naoya didn’t fight it, didn’t push his cousin away or even condemn him.

He just watched everything unfold, the same way you did through your hazed eyes, and took it.

“N—No…” you whimper, doing your best to raise your hands onto your face and hide from him, urge him to look away, but you couldn’t, and he didn’t, filling you with shame amidst your orgasm as Toji rubbed out the last wave of your release, unwittingly tightening against his still hard cock, making him moan in your ear. “D—don’t look, Naoya…”

“A baby.” Toji breathes, still high on his release—he doesn’t know if he really means it, or it’s just the side effect of his orgasm, but he’s too drunk to care. “A baby from a disgrace like me and a saint like you—I wonder what will come out of that?”

His cock suddenly slips out of your cunt while adjusting himself, accidentally splash some of it’s seed onto Naoya’s grasp. Your husband looks at it with utter disgust, but he can’t discern whether it’s for the fluid, the notion of you being pregnant with someone else’s child, or that he secretly enjoyed witnessing all this.

“But most importantly…” He breathes, raising his eyes to Naoya once more. “What will you tell the elders once they find out? How will you explain that your wife is carrying a bastard, simply because you wanted to see a disgrace like me fucking her?

“You—you won’t get her—one time isn’t enough.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” He mocks, Naoya frowns. “I wouldn’t bet on it—"

Toji sighs, taking a deep breath before reaching for his cock, aligning it onto your entrance, giving it a teasing rub or two that quickly has you whining in reproach, trembling at the prospect of another session like this when you’ve barely rested—but moaning when he finally enters you, throwing your head back as he goes all the way back to your cervix, stretching your walls and pushing the rest of his seed out, before nestling the tip just where you he liked and staying there.

He smiles, raising your legs yet again, before beginning to thrust.

“After all, I’m not done yet.”

Neither you nor Naoya would bring this up again.

Keeping it a secret between the two, hoping the third wouldn’t use this as blackmail, offering whatever it took to hide this affair from the clan, even if the answer was one they weren’t sure if they wanted to listen, more so when Toji simply… eased them to not worry, telling them that:

“If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

Although he knows it wouldn’t take long before one of you approaches him in the future for a similar affair, knows it’ll happen, it’s just a matter of time.

But whether it’ll be you, or Naoya… that’s something he’s thrilled to find out.

Omg. Well, that was interesting to write 😊 So long story short: if Naoya were to know this would happen, he would NOT invite Toji for a threesome hahaha. And in an ideal world, the thought of being with anyone else but your husband is enough to scare you away from it—as I told you, NaoyaxY/n is my way to go. It is what it is. So nope, no threesome with Toji. You're too intimidated by him anyways.

But does that mean I will deny myself from writing things like this? NOPE. Hahahaha I still hoped you enjoyed it!! Now I gotta write the Naoaki one….

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! I hope the hentai plot going on was good lol.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!