#seven is a crowd au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

Text

the many firsts

a/n: you have no idea how many times while writing this first instalment that i needed to take a break, if you know what i meaannn 🫠

summary: “alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”

warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, frat!ari levinson, smut, dark content, college au, move in day at university, frat party, alcohol consumption, kissing, virgin!reader, corruption kink, voyeurism, overstimulation, first orgasm, edging, dirty talk, size kink, masturbation, handjob

word count: 8043

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

“Thanks for the ride,” you uttered as Steve’s car finally rolled to a stop in the campus parking lot. Cracking open the passenger side door, you slipped out and trailed back to open up the trunk, “but I can do this on my own, you know,” as the lid floated up to reveal the Tetris-like stacks of both of your stuff, you glanced up at Steve as he rounded the corner of the vehicle as well, “you really don’t have to keep up your end of the deal, our parents aren’t here to see.”

“It’s alright,” his burly arm reached over you to fish out a laundry basket stuffed to the brim with your things, “I know it was just your mom babying you as usual and whispering in my dad’s ear to get him to make me watch after you.”

“She doesn’t baby me, she just cares, a lot…” you shot back defensively, “and I don’t need anyone to watch out for me. I’m eighteen, not seven.”

“Oh yeah?” he let out a faint scoff, “so you wanna just haul all this junk around campus, looking for your dorm, which you have no clue where is yet?”

Your eyes then slowly narrowed in his direction before you muttered, “…well, maybe you could give me just a bit of a hand… just in the name of saving time instead of wasting my first day getting lost.”

And as you filled your arms with as much stuff as you could carry, Steve noted, “hey, I'm not offering to be your fucking tour guide,” as he slammed the trunk shut behind you, “don’t worry, I won’t now try to make you suddenly like me,” he spoke of the ship that sailed away a long time ago.

Arms full, you crossed the crowded parking lot till you reached one of the open gates leading into a lush green area where little paths weaved across the lawns and connected all of the towering buildings.

“Welcome to Highridge University,” Steve breathed as you walked under the gateway, “best fucking years of your life.”

For so long, you had dreamt of this moment, finally being out on your own, away at college, meeting kindred spirits and sipping from the well of knowledge. Glancing around, your teeth clamped down on the smile that rapidly grew and faintly calmed the jittery nerves that still tensed up your abdomen in nauseating butterflies.

“Where are you gonna live, again?” his glance briefly drifted to you.

“Uh…” one-handed, you swiftly scrambled to get out the papers folded up in your pocket, “… Manning Hall, room eight,” you read out loud once you finally found the information on the crumbled piece of paper.

“Manning, alright,” he exhaled, “I started out in Lichfield myself, but I’ve, uh–, dated a few girls who lived in Manning,” his comment promptly caused your eyes to roll in your skull before your feet began to shuffle after him as he led the way.

As you tried to keep up with his long stride, you watched as his gaze suddenly dipped to the contents of the laundry basket he carried before something caught his eye.

“Ah, no way,” he chuckled as he shifted the hamper to free his one arm and snatch up an item, “I can’t believe you brought this with you.”

Glancing over, fury swiftly began to simmer in your chest as you watched him clutch the brown plush bovine visage of Chocolate Milk, an old stuffed animal of yours.

“Hey!” you swiftly snatched the soft cow out of his hand.

But the loss didn’t get to diminish his flame as he only spotted the others buried deeper within the basket, hidden beneath the mass of Chocolate Milk, “oh my god, there’s more!”

“Will you please stop?” you begged as he picked up both an ivory bunny and a caramel-coloured bear, “okay, fine, so I brought a few stuffed animals with me, big whoop!” you screeched in hopes that he would for once show you an ounce of mercy as this was in fact your first time being away from home, so the sense of comfort that those toys brought seemed better than if you’d begged your own mother to stay with you till you settled in.

But even when Steve let go of the teddy bears and settled them back into the hamper, his laughter still continued to rumble in his chest, “oh, you’re so adorable, fuck…”

His laughter had thankfully subsided by the time you reached Manning Hall. Once you’d received your key, your feet began to carry you down the long corridors in search of your new home.

When you found the correct door, it already stood ajar, prompting you to slowly push it open before you peeked your head inside.

On the floor, next to one of the nightstands, there sat a dark-haired girl your age, haphazardly stuffing the small drawer with some of her things.

“Hi,” you gently tapped your knuckles against the open door before crossing the threshold.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyebrows floated up before she exclaimed, “oh! You must be my roommate!” before she sprang up and rushed towards you, “hey, I’m Kate,” she reached out to shake your hand.

Setting down enough stuff to free one palm, you grasped hers and offered her a timid smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.”

Coming in behind you, Steve bumped against your side as he squeezed his eclipsing form in through the doorway, “where do you want this shit?”

“Oh,” you tried to get out of the way before his stride tumbled you down, “on the bed is fine, I think,” you gestured to the empty one.

Slipping in past you both, Kate then asked as he placed the hamper down on the small mattress, “is this your boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your giggle as your wide eyes soared to stare back at her, “him? My boy–, no,” you tried your best to ignore the flutter that tingled deep within your belly at her assumption, “that’s my stepbrother. He’s just already a senior here, so we drove together.”

“Oh,” she exhaled before her face screwed up in immediate regret, “sorry.”

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, your stepbrother briefly glanced down at the screen before muttering, “well, I'll let you girls talk. I'm gonna go grab the rest from the car and then be on my way.”

Offering him a small nod, your gaze shadowed him as he exited the small dorm room, your eyes only ripping away from his fading visage down the hall when Kate soon uttered, “hey, I was about to go get my student ID. You wanna join?”

“Sure,” you nodded, stuffing both of your hands in your pockets, “do you know where it is?”

“Actually, I do,” she cocked her head proudly before sharing, “my girlfriend goes here, so I’ve already been visiting this place for an entire year.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me readjust my grip,” the frat bro with a buzzcut wheezed to the other guy carrying the heavy beer keg. They were barely halfway up the steps that led to the fraternity’s porch as you approached.

“Seriously?” the one that looked like a Norse god halted with a huff, “you can’t keep pausing every five seconds or we won’t get this thing inside till next year!”

“Hi,” the quiet tone of your voice caused them to drop their squabble as both of their eyes promptly drifted directly towards you, “I’m sorry, is this the Kappa Alpha Nu house?”

“It most certainly is, gorgeous,” the blonde one let his stare take a journey down over your frame, “why? You wanna join?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I'm just looking for someone.”

“Okay,” the other one nodded, “well I'm pretty sure everyone’s inside,” his head invitingly tilted towards the open front door behind them before he added, “except for if you’re looking for Frank or Billy, they haven’t arrived yet.”

Slipping in behind them, the entryway that met you was generous and wide, with a broad staircase off to the side that stretched up to an open landing where numerous hallways spewed forth and weaved deeper into the house. Peeking around, you first poked your head inside the living room that bloomed off to the left, though the room that met you was completely vacant.

Though as you twisted to take your search somewhere else, a figure appeared from out of nowhere, curving around the corner, before you blindly bumped directly into the mass.

“Ow, fuck!” he cursed before you stepped off his toes that your shoes had accidentally stomped down on in the collision.

“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going–…” your apology then promptly faded from your lips as you blinked up into the blue eyes of none other than Bucky Barnes.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” your stepbrother’s best friend blinked back into your wide eyes before his glance dipped down to the deep neckline of your shirt, “and since when did these stop being mosquito bites?” he teased as a smirk began to bloom on his lips.

As you then tugged at your shirt to cover up more of your cleavage, Bucky only continued to brashly stare.

“Do you know where Steve is?” you avoided his inappropriate comment with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, he should be down any second,” his brawny arm curled up before he leaned his weight against the wall behind you, “so, how the hell are you? Taken any showers lately?” he briefly wiggled his brows, recalling the time over the summer when he had come over to hang out with his friend, only to naturally walk into your bathroom right as you were washing shampoo out of your hair.

“I’m fine,” you sighed as your cheeks began to burn, “glad to finally have a bathroom door with a lock that actually works.”

But then, before Bucky could torment you any further, three separate pairs of footsteps creaked on the staircase.

“Hey, Buck,” you heard Steve call out before he reached the bottom of the steps, “did you remember to invite the Delta Phi girls tonight, because–,” his sentence then crumbled as his gaze landed upon you. Stopping in his tracks, he blinked down at you with his eyebrows harshly knitted together before his glare flickered to his friend, “what is she doing here?”

Crossing the width of the entryway, you dipped your fingers into your pocket and said, “you forgot your phone in my room,” before you fished the device out and stretched it up towards him.

Finally crossing over the threshold behind you, the two guys hauling the keg perked up, “already trying out the new wares on campus? Nice.”

“What?” you twisted around to glare at them, your heart suddenly thumping in your chest, “I’m his stepsister…”

“Oh…” one of the guys on the staircase beside Steve murmured before turning to utter closer to him, “this is her? Seriously?” though hushed, his voice was still loud enough for each and every person in the room to hear what he said, “that’s your stepsister?”

The clearly lewd undertones of his cadence flew directly over your head as you then blinked up at Steve and asked, “you told them about me?”

“Oh yeah, he has,” the shaggy-haired one on the other side of your stepbrother eyed you a moment before he shifted down the last steps, “I'm Ari, president of this madhouse,” the towering man leaned against the thick bannister before he pointed out each other fraternity members surrounding him, “this is Marc, Thor, Curtis and I'm guessing you already know Bucky.”

“Yeah,” you briefly entertained Bucky and threw a glare over your shoulder at him, “our paths unfortunately crossed back in high school.”

As your eyes fluttered back, Ari, still standing tall before you, tilted his head and asked, “you stopping by our annual beginning of the semester bash tonight?”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken aback by the unexpected invitation, “thanks, but I don’t think I should. I have freshman assembly early tomorrow morning, and anyhow, I’m not really much of a party girl,” your fingers began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.

But then, before you could share any more of your completely valid reasons, Steve spoke up, “oh, come on,” he nearly groaned, “I was told to take you under my wing, so I can’t very well stand around and let you waste away your college years just like you did back in high school.”

“What’s wrong with how I spent those years?” you scoffed and crossed your arms across your chest.

“Uh, you had no life, no friends, nothing,” he counted on his fingers, “you were basically a nun.”

Throwing your hands up into the air, you exclaimed, “oh, well, I’m sorry we can’t all be the fucking prom king and go to parties every weekend without it affecting one’s GPA!”

“Alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”

“Drinks for the beautiful ladies,” Lloyd winked as he and Bucky slithered into the cluster of sorority girls to hand out some beverages. You were leaning up against the nearby wall, shyly only having one foot into the conversation as your new roommate, who now stood with her arm around her girlfriend, Yelena, encouraged you to join in and meet everybody.

“Fuck off, Lloyd,” the redheaded ringleader of the girls barked after she’d seized a cup from him, “I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“Still playing hard to get, I see,” Lloyd only smirked back at Natasha’s scowl.

“Oh, I very much am not,” she uttered coldly.

“See, every party you tell me that and every party, I don’t care. It’s part of our thing,” he briefly waved a finger between the both of them.

“It is not part of our thing, we don’t have a thing, we will never have a thing.”

Though his feet didn’t shift at her warning, as his stare only narrowed to a squint before he concluded, “…so what you’re saying is there’s a chance.”

“Just leave me alone,” she threw up a hand between them to shield her from any more of his desperate attempts, “go flirt with some sad, lonely freshman.”

Though as you watched from the sidelines, you swiftly felt yourself stiffen up as Lloyd suddenly saddled up next to you and flashed you a dazzling grin, “hello… are you by any chance sad and lonely?”

Sucking in a breath, you nervously blinked up at him, “not particularly.”

But before the frat guy could make any other attempts, and make you that much further overwhelmed, Bucky’s palm landed on Lloyd’s shoulder before he offered him a band-aid for the rejections.

“Hey, I think I saw those twins from Callahan’s class out on the dance floor a bit ago,” he leaned in slightly to utter over the booming music that rattled the entire frat house.

“Really?” Lloyd gasped, promptly renewed with vigour before he darted off, leaving Bucky alone next to you.

“He seems… nice,” you tilted your head as your gaze traced him onto the dance floor, briefly flickering to Thor behind them all as he controlled the music and put his own spin on it.

“Ah, he’s not that bad when he’s sober,” Bucky shrugged before shifting to face you, “here,” he then held out a plastic cup for you to grasp.

“Oh, I’m not really much of a drinker–,” you tried to protest before Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved the beverage into your hand, “oh, okay, sure,” you blinked back into his steely blue eyes as he then brought the cup up to your lips and guided you to take a large gulp. The searing sting caused you to swiftly tilt your head back down as you then coughed because of how strong it was, “oh my god, what is that?”

“Just drink it, it’ll help, trust me,” he urged as you stared down into the well of what must have been pure liquor.

Cautiously, you took the older guy’s advice, sipping slowly as you let your gaze wander the space, though as you did, you expected Bucky to leave, but to your surprise, he didn’t shift to move away from your side, which then only caused a timid bubble to ache within your belly as your stare nervously flickered up to him, clueless as to what you should do next.

“So…” you exhaled tensely as you tried to make conversation, “you guys do this kind of thing a lot? Throw parties here?”

“Yeah, pretty much every weekend,” Bucky nodded after taking a sip of his own drink, “although this one in particular, the beginning of the year bash, it always gets a bit wild. Probably because we haven’t seen each other all summer long, so some years it gets a bit out of hand.”

“Oh… like, how wild do you mean? Does it turn into a clue movie?” you half-joked.

“No, nothing quite like that,” he chuckled at your slight terror, “although Scott did almost drown in the pool one time, so…” he shared, pointing to the man erratically shaking his thing in the centre of the dance floor, “he was fine, woke back up, but just don’t get alarmed if anyone pulls something particularly stupid before the sun comes up.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded faintly, “thanks for the tip.”

As your gaze continued to flicker across the expansive space and the drunken students letting loose, his own stayed glued to you before you eventually heard him utter, “so, have you gotten the grand tour yet?”

“What?” your neck swiftly twisted in his direction.

“Of the house,” he faintly gestured to the walls around him.

“…you wanna show me around?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “well, I’m kinda just waiting around for it to become my team’s turn in beer pong, so I’ve got the time to kill.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, your pulse suddenly picking up at the thought of wandering the halls by his side.

“Cool,” he nodded before shifting his gaze to the room you already stood in, “so, this is the place,” he spread out an arm as if you hadn’t just been standing in this spot for twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I already figured that one out on my own,” you chuckled briefly before the palm he slid over your lower back caused it to fade away.

With his hold, he guided you around the corner, into the entryway, “so, the kitchen, dining room and the door to the basement are through there,” he then pointed to the different corners of the abode, “and through there is the living room and this room we use for meetings and shit.”

He then ushered you upstairs, where barely any partygoers had ventured up. Pointing down the various long hallways, he guided your vision to the different doors all down each of them, “so, Frank, Billy, Curtis and Miguel’s rooms are down that way,” he then gestured to the opposite direction, “Scott, Thor, Lloyd, Ransom and Marc are down there,” before his feet then shifted down the last corridor, “and down here is my room,” he pointed to the closed door that had his name on it, “Steve’s, Andy’s and Ari’s.”

Though as he spoke, your eyes fluttered to the door at the end of the hallway, standing slightly ajar. The movement that caught your eye on the other side caused you to swiftly glance to Bucky with a look of alarm, though he clearly couldn’t spot it from where he was standing as he continued to chat, his voice soon fading and flying over your head as your stare wandered back towards the dark room.

On a bed in the centre of the room, there was Ari, hovering and grunting above some blonde girl you didn’t recognise. It took a second for you to realise what they were doing, though when it sank in, a small gasp escaped your lips and caused the leader’s eye to snap up from the whimpering girl beneath him and lock with your own stare through the sliver. You wanted to look away, you knew that you should have, but you couldn’t.

And as you stood there, paralysed and suddenly panting, a wide grin began to bloom upon his lips as he held your eye and began to roll his hips with even more force, causing the chick on the bed to nearly fall off the mattress as each thrust drove her closer and closer to the edge.

Though as you finally managed to snap out of your trance, you nearly coughed as you scrambled to blink back to Bucky, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I said that I’m gonna go take a leak,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly beneath your shirt, “you good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed foggily, “I think I just need a second before heading back downstairs again…”

“Oh, well, I'm sure you can go hang out in Steve’s room for a bit,” he cracked open the door behind him and gestured for you to slip inside.

Slowly, your feet shuffled deeper into the room, the plastic cup in your hand soon resting on the windowsill as you momentarily cast your glance outside at the people down in the front yard, playing a rambunctious drinking game.

Though as your frame sank down with an exhale to sit on the edge of the bed, your head swiftly burying itself in your hands, loud moans seeped through the wall from the other room as they crescendoed in a cacophony that caused your head to spin.

Or perhaps it wasn’t just the lewd acts that were to blame for why you suddenly felt so dizzy. Ground unsteady beneath your feet, even though you were already sitting down, you noticed how inebriated you truly had become. Not that you had imbibed that much, but as the lightweight that you admittedly were and the minuscule experience your body had with such substances, it didn’t take much to have you feeling more molten than you ever had before.

“What are you doing up here?” you suddenly heard, causing your face to crawl out of its hiding place in your palms. Glancing up, you saw Steve’s shadow in the doorway.

“Steve!” you jumped slightly at his unexpected arrival, “you scared me,” you clutched your chest gently as you watched him shut the door behind him.

Moving over towards the desk in the corner, he briefly dipped down to find a bottle of whisky that rested in the bottom drawer. Casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he studied your form, “did I just walk in on something?” he asked as he unscrewed the lid, “you waiting for someone to come up here and fuck you on my bed? Kinky.”

“What? N-no! Oh my god, no,” you sputtered, sensing a mortified heat rush up to your cheeks, “I swear, Bucky was just showing me around a bit, and I wasn’t ready to go back to the chaos downstairs yet, that’s all, he was the one who said it was okay for me to take a break in here.”

“Hmm… you’re still sweet on him, aren’t you?” he guessed before tilting the bottle back for a swig, “is that what was happening here? Were you waiting for him to get back? Did I just cockblock you from finally getting that stick fucked out of your ass? If so, then I feel like I have a responsibility to warn you, he is hung like a fucking horse, so don’t be discouraged if you can’t take him.”

“I–, what?” you panted, blinking back at him wildly, “no, I’m not! I-I don’t like him, I’ve never–, what are you talking about?”

“Chill! I’m only joking,” Steve swiftly chuckled at your perplexed panic, “I mean, not about his size, both a blessing and a curse, you know,” he cocked his head, “seriously, you don’t gotta freak out like some innocent little virgin,” he laughed, though his words only caused you to freeze up, a reaction he swiftly picked up on, “…unless you–, oh shit,” growing silent, his stare stayed glued on you as he slowly sat the bottle in his hand down upon the desk behind him, “you are, aren’t you?”

“Well, you don’t gotta say it like that!” you groaned, keeping your eyes averted to the floor, “it’s not some terminal illness.”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just–… fuck…” he exhaled, “really?”

“…yeah,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you felt the mattress dip beside you, “you know my mom has never let me date anyone…”

“What about like other stuff?” Steve’s tone tickled your hot skin as he now sat right next to you, “you’ve done that, right?” though you only managed to meekly shake your head as an answer, “really? No one’s ever like touched you before? Or you’ve played with someone else?” he pried, and you once again shook your burning face from side to side, “wow,” he exhaled, “well, then I can’t even begin to imagine how much you must masturbate, damn.”

“I–, I–…” you tried to utter, though the truth of your inexperience seemed too difficult to say out loud, rendering you to once again wobble your head.

“Wait, seriously?” his eyebrows soared up even higher, “you haven’t that either?”

“Well, I’ve–, sort of–, I don’t know,” you stumbled, your gaze still hazy on the floor.

“How have you done it?” he then asked, making it that much harder for you to fill up your lungs with oxygen.

“Oh god,” you jaggedly shifted your vision to the ceiling, “this is so mortifying.”

“No, it’s okay, you can tell me,” he pushed in a gentle tone you didn’t think he had in him.

Gnawing at your bottom lip till a metallic taste met your tongue, you hesitantly muttered, “…kinda just, I guess, sit on a pillow or a stuffed animal or something and then–…”

“Shit…” a low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that shot straight down between your thighs and worsened the throbbing already distracting you down there, “that’s the only thing you do? You just hump your pretty little pillow till you cum?”

“Well, I don’t know if I–, uh, reach that per say, I just kind of rock till it builds and then I’ve always stopped because–, I don’t know…” you uttered, mortified that your inebriated state had nudged you to share such matters, especially with him, “it’s stupid, I know. My anatomy knowledge is great, much better than yours, I know where stuff is and how things technically work, but when I was younger, I know it’s dumb, but it all kind of scared me, like what if I did it wrong and ruined something, and I know now that statistically speaking the odds of something like that happening are really, really low, but–, yeah…”

Steve’s eyes never left you for but a second, merely stared as you shared and eventually, after silence had swept through the room like a crisp breeze, he parted his lips and uttered, “do you want me to teach you?”

Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, “…you’re my stepbrother…”

“Yeah, of a couple of years,” he had the audacity to shrug, “and for most of that time, I’ve been away at school, so like, are we really?”

A stunned scoff then bubbled out of your throat, “our parents are married, so yes, that makes up stepsiblings.”

“Well, for now,” he tilted his head slightly, “were you living in the same house as I was over this summer? They clearly aren’t newlyweds anymore…” he stated before leaning in closer, “so, what do you say? Will you let me help you?” your eyes flickered down to your knee as his knuckles slowly inched closer and ghosted against your skin, “I promise, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know…” he nearly whispered as if he was trying to sell you on a drug you’d instantly get addicted to.

“I–…” you panted, “but wouldn’t it be weird that it’s you showing me?”

“No, it wouldn’t be weird at all,” his head gently shook from side to side, “unless you want me to go grab Bucky, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind either–”

“No, no!” you swiftly squeaked, “that’s not necessary,” as sharing such a secret with Steve had been bad enough, the thought of repeating the whole ordeal with someone else made you feel as if you might faint.

“Okay,” he breathed before he slowly began to inch closer, an action you swiftly put a stop to when you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Wait, what if I don’t like it?”

“Then you just tell me, and I’ll stop,” one of his hands floated up to rest on top of your own, still pressed against him, “promise,” he offered you a reassuring smile. Steve’s glance then flickered down to your lips before his eyebrows twitched slightly as he wondered, “so, if you’ve never done any of that stuff before, does that mean you’ve also never been kissed?”

“…well, I've played spin the bottle a few times, many years ago, does that count?” you recalled the awkward pecks in your youth.

“Not really,” the corners of his lips twitched before he asked you, “can I kiss you?”

“Can you–…” you echoed faintly before whispering, “okay,” utterly spellbound as you stared back at him, “what should I do?”

“Just relax,” he then gently grabbed each side of your face with his wide hands, “and follow my lead.”

It simultaneously felt like an eternity as well as only the blink of an eye before Steve had closed the gap and pressed his lips to your own. At first, it was soft and slow, his right thumb briefly swiping against your cheekbone as he kissed you, but then you felt his tongue flicker forth, making you gasp, before he seized that opportunity to slip past your guard and let his tongue dance against your own, the sensation of which caused you to positively melt as you relaxed into the kiss and mirrored his efforts.

You had no clue how much time had passed once you finally parted, and you blinked your dazed eyes back at him.

And in your haze, he first shifted back deeper onto the bed, before he gently manoeuvred your frame to slot you in between his legs, “here, lean back against me,” he drew you closer till your back was pressed up against his chest.

Twisting your neck to look up at him, you were still too stunned to speak, only suck in a shaky breath as he then pressed a peck to your temple.

“You ready?” he murmured against your hairline as his hands slid down atop your own, his fingers swiftly interlocking with your smaller ones.

“I think so,” you uttered nervously.

“So, let’s start off with the basics,” his low voice only worsened the tingly sensation that now roared in your body like a roiling flame, “could you tell me what places you’ve explored before and where you haven’t yet?”

“…well, I guess I’ve touched most places before…” you hesitantly began, “my hands usually run all over my body when I–, you know… but I’ve never put anything inside, and I only touched my–, uhm, clit one time, a really long ago,” your confession began to make you feel so dizzy, you feared you might faint at any moment, “and it was just really intense and–, I don’t know, I was scared that it was too much, so I never tried it again, not directly anyway, just–, you know, pillows and such…”

“Alright,” he uttered, letting go of your hands.

Your eyes grew as they then traced Steve’s touch, first sweeping up to gently cup both of your boobs. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he briefly brushed his thumbs over the pebbles of your nipples, poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. You found yourself barely breathing when he eventually let his palms roam further south till they were at your hips, and his fingers began to hike up your skirt and let it crumble around your waist.

“Let me see…” he murmured directly in your ear as he poked at your bent legs to pry them open, “oh my god, look at you…” you felt the deep groan vibrate in his chest as he caught sight of your panties and the embarrassingly soaked patch darkening the cotton, “you are so fucking wet…”

Steve then slowly slid his touch down over your covered core, merely cupping your lightly, though still making it near impossible for you to breathe. But your whole body twitched as he lightly curled up his hand till only the tips of his fingers still grazed you, before he then began to draw a feathery pattern of circles, tickling your deprived centre.

“How does that feel, huh?” he kept up the ghostly touch.

“I-it’s–, o-oh my god,” you whimpered, doubtful if you could take whatever else he’d dare to throw at you when even such a light touch managed to make you tremble, “Steve.”

Seizing his teasing, his fingers then hooked in the hem of your underwear before pulling them to the side, sticky strings of your arousal clinging to the cotton, “oh, fuck…” he groaned before his instincts overtook him and his fingers caught the waistband before ripping them down your legs till their rushed journey halted at your ankles, resting around them and loosely trapping them together.

Pushing your legs further apart, one hand then traced your inner thigh while he hooked his other burly arm across your chest, just beneath the swell of your tits, occasionally squeezing so tightly that your boobs were pushed up even higher as he efficiently strapped you in, impossibly close to his broad chest.

Painstakingly slow, he slid his touch closer and closer to your glistening core, till he reached the places that you never had the nerve to truly touch on your own.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers just lightly dragged through your folds.

“Christ, you’re sensitive,” he kept on peeking over your shoulder as he drew a slow circle over your clit, “look at you, fucking trembling like a leaf, and I've barely touched you yet.”

“Barely?” you echoed breathlessly, “what do you mean–, how is this barely? I-I don’t know if I can–, it’s–, fuck,” you whimpered against his touch, “it’s too much,” your thighs trembled on either side of his wide palm, “I don’t know if I can take it, I think you might have to stop.”

“No, no, no, it’s not too much, you can take it, I know you can,” he urged before he bent his strong legs and hooked them over your own, trapping your wiggly limbs and holding you down and open for him, “just trust me, I’ve got you, all you gotta do is just relax, okay? Just give into it.”

His feathery pressure on your puffy pearl then increased, making your hips buck beneath his touch as a moan rippled out from deep within your lungs.

“Oh, fucking hell, there you go,” he smiled from behind you, “look at that little pussy, fucking crying out now that she’s finally getting some attention.”

Your fingers twitched just beneath his arm, still flexing over your ribs, and a murmur slipped out past your whimpers, “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

Though as Steve’s touch drove you mad, his fingers slipped down to catch some of the slick that leaked out of your untouched hole, before he went into autopilot and didn’t sweep back up to bully your glistening clit, but instead began to circle your virginal entrance.

“No, wait,” you instantly began to freak out, “n-not there!”

“You sure?” he let himself trace your tight opening one last time, “alright, maybe next time then…”

Once his fingers had swept back up and focused in on your puffy pearl, rolling it firmly beneath his touch, you felt your body reach the agonising point where you’d always chicken out.

“Steve, I–”

“Hm?” he hummed in your ear and kept up his efforts, surely feeling your clit throb beneath his fingers, “you getting close?”

“I-I–,” you gasped, trying your best to fight the feeling, “this is usually when I stop.”

“Oh yeah?” you could plainly hear the smirk on his lips.

“Mhm,” you nodded, staring down at his efforts that barely even paused.

“So, this is what you’d do, huh? You’d ride your pillow and then just stop?” as he uttered that last word, he abruptly took his hand away, “just leave yourself all edged and needy?” your hips bucked after his fading touch, “that’s usually something I’d do to my girls just to be a menace and make them all dumb and desperate, but that’s just what you do to yourself all of the time?” your whole frame quivered against him as you weakly tried to grab for his hand, even as he brought it completely out of your reach, “damn, gotta admit, wish I had known that earlier… I could have sneaked into your room afterwards and lent a hand, helped you go all the way. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it? You just needed your big bro to come in and hold your hand through it because you got scared? It’s okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you, big brother’s got you.”

“You’re not my brother–”

“Damn right, I’m not,” he nearly chuckled before he began to touch you once again, rendering any retort you had lined up to fly straight out of the window as shaky moans instead flowed from your lungs.

Though the cruel pause had given your body enough time to calm down just a tad, it barely took any time at all for Steve to push you back towards that intimidating ledge and hold you there as you peeked over the edge.

“Steve, I don’t know if I can–, it’s–”

“Baby, it’s okay, you can do it,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “just trust me, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know,” the hand he had plastered against your ribs slid up to grasp one of your tits, denting the softness with his long fingers, “just let it happen, relax.”

Shaking uncontrollably, your face tilted to hide in the bulk of his arm as the most blinding and overwhelming sensation you’d ever felt in your entire life rippled through your form, white-hot pleasure in a dose that you hadn’t thought imaginable.

“Oh, there you go, fuck,” he moaned and tried to draw your very first orgasm out as long as he could, “atta girl, that’s it.”

When his movements finally stopped, his messy hand slipped down to rest against your twitching thigh, hazy whimpers ever flowing from your lungs as you reeled in the staggering sensation.

“Holy shit…” you eventually managed to pant shakily.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he uttered cockily before pressing a kiss to your temple.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he then began to caress your thigh gently, sweeping his touch up and down the goosebump-ridden flesh till your breathing began to slow.

But then as you felt yourself relax even further back against him, wiggling slightly to get more comfortable, you noticed something hard poking your back. Assuming that it was something in his pocket, you shifted once again, but still couldn’t escape it, though with each of your squirming attempts, a low groan was conjured deep within Steve’s chest.

“What is that?” you then muttered, “is it your phone? Could you take it out of your pocket?”

“No, it’s not my phone,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence, swiftly causing you to freeze up, “you got me hard.”

Gasping loudly as if he hadn’t just had his hand on your pussy, you shot up to a sitting position and swiftly crawled around to direct your wide eyes straight at him. Skirt falling down to cover you back up, your panties however still remained around your ankles as you shifted to kneel on the bed before him.

“Oh my god,” the stunned expression plastered all over your face caused him to melt, “you’re so cute…”

Blinking back at him, you stammered, “that was–… you’re–…”

“Hard? Yeah,” he casually uttered, “kinda impossible not to be after what just happened,” he let his hand drift down to palm himself through his pants, guiding your vision to flutter down as well to finally look at the prominent bulge that strained against the zipper of his jeans. And as his touch slowly rubbed against the mouthwatering hardness, teasingly squeezing it for an ounce of relief, his head then cocked as he continued to stare at you, “can I ask you something?”

Downright hypnotised as you stared down at the overwhelming display of his arousal, you only managed to hum as a reply, “mhm,” as you stayed transfixed on the clothed hardness that somehow both terrified and exhilarated you at the same time.

“Have you ever seen a cock before?”

Meeting his unwavering gaze, you blinked, “…in textbooks and stuff…”

“How about up close?” he asked and you swiftly shook your hazy head, “you wanna see mine?”

“I–… what?”

“Do you wanna see mine?”

“U-uh…” you could barely think as you felt the sore sensitivity between your unsteady thighs somehow blossom back into the same agonising tingles that had taken hold of you before, “okay.”

A sharp breath filled your lungs as you watched him free his dick. Your eyes swiftly grew even wider as he enveloped the hand, still glistening with your juices, around the fat girth. Slick and sloppy sounds filled the room with every leisurely stroke as he began to slowly jerk himself, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together at the show.

“You good?” he chuckled lightly at the way your eyes had gone glassy.

“Mhm…” you foggily nodded, struggling to grasp onto even a single thought, “it’s–… a lot bigger than I imagined…”

“Have you been imagining what my cock looked like?” he relentlessly teased.

“No, no, I mean, just in general,” you fumbled over your words as he kept up his silky strokes, “yours is bigger than I imagined them to be in real life.”

“You wanna touch it?”

“…t-touch?” your eyes fought to blink back up and lock with Steve’s own.

“Yeah, come on,” he then grabbed your hand and brought it towards his length. At first, he let you just graze your fingertips against his dick, guiding your touch as he slowly dragged it across the velvety skin, all the way from the bulbous head, glistening with shiny precum that beaded at the tip, to the fat base where his heavy balls bloomed beneath.

“Oh–,” you swallowed as he then wrapped your fingers around his girth before engulfing them with his own broad hand, still shiny from your wetness, “it’s–, really hard.”

“Yeah, well that’s what you do to me, baby,” he smiled as he tightened his fist around your own, though even so, his girth was still too big for your own fingers to meet on the other side, “this is all for you…”

His free hand then grabbed your chin before he ravenously pressed his lips to your own, kissing you fiercely as he began to move your hand and guide your touch over his throbbing length.

Eventually, as you broke from the kiss, you peeped down at his cock, tight in your grasp.

His fingers kept on clutching your chin, holding you close, as he then purred, “here, like this,” his wide hand flexed around your smaller one, “a little tighter, don’t be scared, you won’t hurt me–, yeah,” he then moaned as you obeyed his command, “fuck, that’s it…” briefly letting his eyes flutter closed as he breathed through the pleasure. Though as he blinked his gaze back open, his broad thumb brushed against your knuckles as he asked, “you wanna try on your own?”

“O-okay,” you uttered before his guiding touch faded and you timidly tried to emulate his efforts, “like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he groaned as you slowly slid your careful touch up and down the length of his cock, “shit, you’re a natural, baby,” his fingers that clutched your chin briefly shifted before his thumb poked up to brush the pad against your bottom lip, “keep going like that and I’ll blow in no fucking time.”

“Oh,” you swiftly ripped your stare away from his dick as you misunderstood his words, “should I stop then?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled before claiming your lips once again, not holding back in the slightest as he let the kiss grow sloppy and desperate.

Rejoining his touch to your own, he began to speed up your actions, making you stroke his thick girth even faster than before. And as he tilted away from the greedy kiss, a glossy string of saliva still kept you both connected.

Panting as he neared the finish line, he cast a brief glance down at his fat cock slick in both of your hands, before he threw his head back and moaned loudly as he unravelled at your touch.

“Fuck…” he panted as he let go of your palm, now sticky with his hot load just as his own hand was as well. Chest still rising and falling rapidly, he caught your frame and tugged you even closer, “come here,” he murmured as he pulled you into a limp hug.

“Was that okay?” you asked in a small voice as you curled into his chest.

Catching your jaw, he tilted your head back enough for you to catch his eye before he uttered, “that was fucking perfect,” and he kissed you once again. As he drew back, his gaze lingered, eventually fluttering down towards your lips before he brought his fingers up towards them, still messy with both your nectar as well as his own load, “open up.”

“What?” your brows knit together as you blinked down at the sticky digits he ghosted against your lips, tilting your head back slightly in confusion.

“Give it a taste.”

“Why would I do that?” you nearly laughed.

“Because it’s normal,” the older guy told you, “most people love cleaning up after their messes, so you probably do too.”

“Seriously?”

“I shit you not,” he said, though you kept on staring back at him in doubt, “what, do you want me to prove it to you? Fine,” he then extended his thumb for him to suck it clean, “there,” he released the dinger from his lips with a pop, “now it’s your turn,” he twisted his hand back down towards your mouth.

And hesitantly, you found yourself parting your lips for him, “there you go…” he groaned as he slipped two of his long fingers inside your mouth, “see? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” his gaze stayed transfixed upon your lips wrapped around his messy digits as he slowly let himself shift his fingers, greedily fucking your face for a bit, “shit…” he cursed as you licked them clean and he pulled them back out, a murmur swiftly slipping from his lips as he continued to stare, “I can’t wait to train this little mouth to do all sorts of tricks…”

“What?” you asked as your mind began to scramble for the meaning.

“Oh, nothing,” he sighed and ignored your naiveté before he pulled you back in for another hug, “nothing at all, sis…”

2K notes · View notes

luvmahae · 5 months ago

Text

where you are ‣ lee haechan smau

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

genre: smau, non-idol au, college au, fluff, nsfw/suggestive (mdni!) comedy, humor, slight slowburn, strangers to lovers, rave bae core? (am i in love with you or is it just the drugs?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/substance usage (marijuana, mdma/ecstasy, lsd, cocaine), profanity, jokes about sex and death thrown around, both groups are out of pocket and tmi doesn't exist apparently... no ones safe! the boys gc is kinda questionable (this is where i say men deserve no rights!), haechan x reader met at an edm festival (the term rave bae will be said here and there. rave bae is someone you meet unexpectedly while raving, kinda like your temporary s/o for the duration of the rave or festival... smth like that!) disclaimer notice: these portrayals are fictional and are not intended to encourage or glamorize substance use.

notes: omg!!! my first post ever... honestly i've been debating to do this for a long time... now here i am :D ngl i lowkey based this off a personal experience (i am a changed woman now okay... spare me! 😭) my first lil fic dedicated to haechan!!! the playlist is highly edm biased with a sprinkle of brat. i just think it fits the vibe so well hehe. open to feedback and enjoy!!! ♡

status: ongoing!

taglist: closed!

profiles: live laugh love y/n (1), john summit fanboys (2)

intro: so.... edc next year?

one: comedown

two: wtf is college

three: boutta fuckin jump (written)

four: y/n’s eras tour

five: is my brain braining?

six: heyyyyyy 👀

seven: i know what u are…

eight: tequila ftw (written)

nine: ot3 timeout

ten: i want u 😩

eleven: drunk olympics

twelve: stuDYING

thirteen: agram 🙏😭

fourteen: gn haechan (written)

fifteen: team y/n

sixteen: options

seventeen: u did ur big one 😞

eighteen: h for harry styles

nineteen: kms postponed! (written)

twenty: haechan x y/n crumbs

twenty-one: how tf we feelin (written)

twenty-two: use protection 😏

twenty-three: missed connection

twenty-four: shhhh 🤫

twenty-five: enemies to lovers trope

twenty-six:

twenty-seven:

twenty-eight:

twenty-nine:

thirty:

2K notes · View notes

jayparked · 1 month ago

Text

you text them “sleep with me” - enhypen

PAIRING: best friend enhypen x female reader GENRE: crack, very suggestive ; mdni AU: best friends to ??? WARNINGS: very suggestive and strong language, just one big ol miscommunication trope!, the guys have lost their minds, jake is...something else..y/n wants sunghoon to punch her (mood), heeseung get's a W tho!! the crowd cheered SNAIL TRAIL: thank you to @starriecats for suggesting this prompt when i needed ideas! (no longer taking reqs) i hope you like it ♡ (hanna ate my jake one so it disappeared from the app i make these in and i was unable to change his contact name kfadsjfl)

part 5 in my miscommunication series! you dont need to read the previous ones first, but they would provide more context to the texts below! thank you as always to @sungbeams and @dazzlingjaeyun ♡ part one ; part two ; part three ; part four ; part five ; part six ; part seven ; part eight ♡ part 9: heeseung ; jay ; jake ; sunghoon ; sunoo ; jungwon ; riki ♡

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 02/14/25 do not copy, repost, or translate. if you're inspired to create something similar to my work, please credit me

2K notes · View notes

ittybittyfanblog · 5 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

3K notes · View notes

romantisized · 9 days ago

Text

bounce back ── gojo satoru (m).

pairing ⋆ basketball player!gojo satoru & journalist!reader.

professional athletes have the tendency of being cocky over their talents, gojo satoru is the most notorious for it. you decide to knock him down a peg.

genre & word count ⋆ angst & smut | 11.5k words.

fic tags & warnings ⋆ fem-bodied!reader (they/she), basketball!au, enemies to lovers, gojo is a conceited asshole, petty bantering, social media elements, near-death experience/accidental attempted murder, one (1) face slap, unprotected sex, pull out method, hate(-ish) sex, sub!gojo & dom!reader, fingering, one (1) pussy slap, squirting, slight degredation, crying, etc.

sticky notes ⋆ this ended up so much longer than i anticipated, but i will slobber all over your cocks if you read. it's good for the brain, give it some stimulation. [ crossposted on ao3 ! ]

Sweat beading off his head, he drowns out the noise of everyone around him. Sapphire eyes fixate on the hoop that towers across the court as he dribbles the ball, sprinting towards another win. On the score post, fifteen seconds are flashing on the clock as the points are nearly neck and neck. Tokyo versus Kyoto, 34 and 32. With just enough time on the clock, Gojo can give his team a few more points to lengthen the gap.

And when he’s determined, he gets a look in his eyes, where his dazzling blue seems to only shine more, the light beaming inside of his pupils as his white eyebrows course into a frown. He blocks out the entire world— the audience, the buzzers, the screeching of shoes against the wooden ground, the opposing team and his own team— just for his own ambitions. He moves untouched, something like a sixth sense telling him when and where to go as the sounds of his dribbles only get louder. His force caused the ball to hit the ground harder and harder.

Gojo Satoru held such a high power in the world of basketball, a force to be reckoned with, and seemingly going untouchable. When in this state of mind, it told everyone to back off as he made himself into a brick wall, hogging the ball for himself and forcing his opponents to create a path towards the basketball hoop. Those who dared to approach him in such a state risked injuries that the referee couldn’t save them from, they’ve learned their lesson nth many times. So, instead of approaching the beast head on, they waited for possible failure.

Ten seconds on the clock. Like tradition, the crowd began to count down. Their voices were so loud that passersby could hear their chanting as they stomped on the bleachers. They got louder with every descending number. Ten . . . Nine . . . Eight . . .

The ball was now in the air, flying right inside of the hoop before the crowd could cry out “Seven!” His pink lips contorted to a smirk as the opposing team reached for the ball and ran in the opposite direction in hopes to make a comeback with the little time remaining. However, it was no use. It seemed as though time had quickened in favor of Gojo. FourThreeTwo… The obnoxious blaring of the alarm sounding and the game is over.

Gojo’s chest comes to a steady rise and fall, but he’s not exhausted as much as the other men are. No, he still feels enough energy to keep on going. Turning his back to the court, he goes to the bench as his coach gives him a curt nod. “Excellent job, as always.”

The only man viable for his respect, Gojo bows his head in acknowledgement as the older man throws him his water bottle. Catching it with ease, he throws his head back as he squeezes the content in his mouth. His skin glistening from the sweat as flashes hurdle his way, a crowd starting to form around him. The camera shutters seem to get more silent when they surround him, capturing Gojo’s figure, his black jersey hanging outside of his baggy shorts, an inch past the elastic hem. No undershirt underneath it as his muscle and bicep seem more prominent tonight. Leaning his weight on one leg, the cameras perfectly capture the vein on his right calf. On his knees, mismatched knee sleeves. One black and another a deep and dark red to match the accent colors in his team uniform. And his shoes, blue— his signature color.

The professional athlete is expecting the typical post-game questions— How do you feel after another win? What’s your secret for staying on top for this long? Do you ever believe that you’re going to fall back down to the bottom? He has all the typical answers, short cut and dry as he keeps that habitual smirk that he’s gained so much compliments for. Beauty and brawns— a multifaceted man, he calls himself, as well as the press.

However, the questions he anticipates are replaced with different ones, catching him off guard.

“Gojo,” a female reporter calls out, auburn hair stopping mid back. “What do you think about the things said about you by the Career-Ender?”

“Yeah!” An older man shouts out, a buzz-cut with patchy spots. “They say that in a matter of a year or so, your basketball career is bound to fall apart. What do you have to say about that?”

“Is it true that you pushed them out the way after they were just asking for help?” Accusations being thrown at him left and right, questions that he didn’t have the immediate answers to. He was being thrown into a whirlwind that he didn’t have sly remarks to make. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head as he had to think of something quick and make his way towards the locker room. A light bulb flashes in his mind, remembering the name the first reporter stated.

“Career-Ender?” he scoffs. “If anything, I’ll be the one making sure they don’t have a job after this—” he chuckles as the mics are shoved in his direction. Propping his hands on his hips, he takes a breath to collect his thoughts. “— Listen, all those presumptions in that article were false. We’ve seen it time and time again, people with no time in their lives fabricating stories in hopes to tarnish successful people’s careers. This is one of those times. I suggest that the Career-Ender find another line of business to work in and possibly some therapy to help seal whatever hole is inside their heart. My team and I just garnered another win under our belt, let’s talk about that instead.”

Gojo never had any intentions of looking into what the paparazzi was referring to. He chalked it all up to this new day and age of performative activism through the use of cancel culture. How social media liked to heighten situations that at the end of the day, will all end up being nothing. He did what he did best, at first, ignoring the comments and snide remarks he started getting early on.

However, people started coming out with stories and recalling negative encounters that they had with the basketball player. Each story detailing his nasty personality and actions that started alarming his manager, Higuruma Hiromi, and PR Team, requesting him to meet them to talk about the potential results that could happen. Gojo made sure to hire a team that could tackle anything, that could keep him out of situations like this. So, part of him was shocked that Higuruma actually wanted to call a meeting over this… this— this petty deal.

Calls and buzzing of his phone become exhausting that curiosity eats him and he’s clicking on the link that started this all.

─────

GOJO SATORU, MOST TALENTED BASKETBALL PLAYER OF THIS GENERATION, SOON TO SUCCUMB TO HIS ATTITUDE AND BAD BEHAVIOR

By Your Name | March __, 2025 | 12:00 PM

Gojo Satoru, a twenty-nine year old basketball player, has certainly made a name for himself in the past ten years. From his outstanding athletic performance as a college freshman attending Tokyo University to being drafted to the basketball team, Tokyo Jujutsu, he’s certainly proved time and time again that he’s the next biggest thing. No one can lie about his achievements and the potential that he holds and has yet to unlock. He has so much potential within himself, yet… I can only see it coming into a downward spiral. Why? All because of that nasty attitude of his.

On countless of times and occasions, the popular and professional athlete has shown his true colors on camera. Earlier in his career, plenty of reporters and spectators had believed his conceited personality would call for an early retirement, but by some greater God, here Gojo Satoru still stands on his mighty horse, thinking he can continue going on his selfish rampage and continue to reap the benefits that society has offered him with open arms. And I have come to ask when will we stop turning a blind eye to the ruthless and abhorrent behavior that men continue to display? When will we stop excusing their disgusting acts because of the power that they hold and do what needs to be done— nip their career right in the bud.

Read More . . .

─────

Gojo scoffs by the end of it all. Pages upon pages of what seems to be a butthurt journalist who didn't get the attention they were hoping for. Why were a few negative encounters causing such an uproar? However, in the tabs linking to “Articles Like This” list a row of newsletters all revolving around Gojo and his apparent “Worst Moments.” Ultimately falling into a rabbit hole of reading people's opinions about him and watching videos relaying just how much of a nasty and unlikeable person he is.

For the first time in years, he feels his stomach tighten at what’s being said about him. How people have found him so appalling and their alleged experiences about him, he can’t recall any of those said events. However, he usually has the habit of forgetting things that don’t matter to him. It’s the reason why his days seem to be blurred and conjuncted together. However, that quick second of his heart being ripped to shreds dissipates as he tells himself not to care about. In a few months time, he’ll win for his team and once again, be the apple of the people’s eyes.

But, for the time being, your name rings aloud in his mind. Something, no— someone— worth remembering.

─────

Gojo can’t remember the last time he has ever been nervous for a game. Honing in his skills and talent, he feels like he’s near perfected becoming the best basketball player this generation has ever seen. However, in the locker room as his teammates pile out in a jumbled line, his feet tap against the tiled floor as he tries his best not to reveal his nerves. Across his social media accounts, the numbers and views are dwindling down as people keep to their promise of cutting ties to their now ex-favorite basketball player. Articles upon articles revealing things that he’s done.

On top of that, Higuruma and his PR Team truthfully believed that he needed to take a break and step outside of the limelight for a while. They said that they needed him to reflect on his character and consider partaking in selfless acts to start painting a better picture for himself. It further struck a nerve because they didn’t need to outright say it. They believed the articles and the stories being reported about him. They, too, believe that he isn’t a good person. And in a matter of seconds, those nerves turn into rage and the hand towel that he’s been holding onto is being thrown across the room. White eyebrows knitting together in anger and cerulean eyes darkening, his footsteps sound through the small area before heading towards the stands and the courts, where people were still cheering for him and calling out his name. Not some bitch that people dubbed the Career-Ender.

Gojo didn’t partake in his team’s pre-game ritual, didn’t join in for their prayers and chants. No, he stood on the sidelines and waited for the referee to announce the start of the game. People saw it in his eyes— that look. He was all in for this game. He had something to prove in this game.

So, when the ball was in the air, he didn’t give the referee much time to take a step back, jumping up to heights that his opponent couldn’t even fathom touching as Gojo sent the ball hurdling straight to the ground with a loud bounce that called for silence inside the arena. Gasps echoed as everything fell silent, eyes glued onto the tall figure, the beast that is, Gojo Satoru.

Starting off strong from the jump, everyone can feel the hunger and presence of him. The first half of the game, he's a dominant force, scoring majority, if not all, the points and leading such a seering start that people believe the opposing team could never catch up to. When halftime is called, he casts an invisible force field around himself that people wouldn't dare to intrude on. However, his coach had never been just people. The man had wedged his way deep inside the young boy, being the father figure that he never had and always needed.

“Son…” the superior sighs, meeting Gojo in his eyes. “I understand that things have been rough for you lately. The things that people are saying about you are enough to rile anyone up, but you have nothing to prove. You've already done that by making it this far. Now, Satoru, you need to take a breather. I'm going to bench you until you get yourself under control.”

“No!” Gojo shouts, pushing the man he had always admired, using more force than intended. It all happens in slow motion, Gojo sending his coach to the ground and everyone watching. Eyes widening as people come to crowd him, but the coach shakes his head, bringing himself to stand up, with a limp, however. He catches his breath before sending Gojo a stern and hardened limp.

“You can get back on the court,” he sighs. “But you better get your shit together before you fall right into their hands.”

And the coach doesn't need to elaborate for Gojo to know exactly who he's talking about─ you. For once, Gojo feels a sense of normalcy running back into him. His body relaxes, but that heat still runs in his body. Instead of using your name as a crutch, haunting him, it now fuels his fire.

When the timer runs out and players are being switched in and out, Gojo goes to his position. Ball thrown in the air, again, he sends it searing back to the ground and his team’s possession. That same hunger and fire running through him as he dashes across the court and leading his team to victory. A one-man show, overworking his body over the years, he does it without question. Unknowingly, his body is deteriorating at this moment.

He's moving slower and that barrier he's built is slowly falling apart. His opponents are catching up to him, and for a first, he notices them. They're meeting his steps with ease, gaining up on him and threatening to overpower him. It only hardens Gojo as he’s determined to hold himself together. Intaking a harsh breath, he dribbles faster and forces himself forward.

In no time, the fifteen second mark is trusted upon everyone. Tokyo led with 75 points and the opposition with 15. The gap is large, but not large enough. One, no! Two more shots! he thinks to himself. I can do it!

Within the first five seconds, he's able to make another three pointer. However, his head becomes too big when he aims to get his team to 80. He's never felt the same exhaustion that his team has, building so much endurance, that despite sweat beading his forehead, he always felt that he had the energy for more.

But, his vision is getting dark and grainy. His calves are stiff and he feels like if he took one more step, he's going to fall. With every trial he's faced in his life, he was always able to power through, but when will he realize that this isn't a trial nor is it an obstacle that the universe has thrown at him. It's a warning that he's choosing to ignore.

The crowd is counting down and Gojo was never one to disappoint. Already halfway across the court, he aims for another three-pointer when an opponent obstructs his path, colliding into him and making the taller individual lose his footing. A twist, so subtle but not much longer when Gojo lets out a strangled cry and a loud thud sends the crowd silent after their sudden intake of breath. Medics coming out to remove him from the court, the entire arena watches in horror while the athlete watches them in pain and trepidation. With so much running inside his mind, one thing stands prominent. You, your name tied down to that damn article.

This entire time he had been trying not to let your words eat him alive, but he's afraid that he's fallen right into your trap. He's afraid that this entire time, you had been right.

He was the reason for his own undoing.

─────

You don’t think you intended for the nickname, Career-Ender, to ever be bestowed upon you. You don’t think you ever intended to be the type of journalist that people feared or felt intimidated by. You wanted an image that truly reflected who you were. You wanted people to see— to read— how passionate you were about sports and to read the love you invoke in your words. However, one drunken night led to another, where you poured your heart out into venting out your feelings about a baseball player and how distraught over your first encounter with him on social media that one thing turned into another and people took it upon themselves to put the man on the sidelines.

You truly didn’t mean for your reputation to be someone who took pleasure into ending talented people’s careers, but after that first instance, where people shared their negative experiences with the professional baseball player to the point he was put on trial for domestic violence accusations, you found power in your drunken rage.

Earning a significant following and continuing to write the articles that you intentionally sought to publish, you garnered the title of a well-endowed journalist as people started to see your potential. Your boss, while first enraged with your actions, had opened up the doors to more opportunities and endeavors for you, seeing how people saw you as the pinnacle of sports. People trusted your word when you said a young athlete had the potential to make it big; people trusted you when you called into question the attire for female volleyball players; but, most of all, they trusted your word when you didn’t like an athlete.

You didn’t put your notorious nickname into action often. Truthfully, the title was thrusted upon you the moment your drunken rant had disproportionately blown up, and you’ve never written another article showing distaste for another athlete again. There were a bunch of rude and cocky athletes. If you nitpicked at every little thing, it would question your credibility.

However, you had purpose in your critiques. A fluster of emotions sitting on your chest about it, you had every intention of posting it when you did. Though you didn’t take pride in the nickname that people coined you for, it has its perks as it calls for people’s attention.

With your admiration and love for basketball, you oftentime spent time and energy in keeping up in the scene. Attending basketball games and when you couldn’t be at every one of them, you had them saved up on any device that you had on you. Your eyes beamed watching the athletes play at their best (or their worst), it sent blood pumping down your spine as everything was happening before your eyes. However, you hate the fact that you have to say that all of your most prominent negative run-ins were from the Tokyo team. Moreso specifically, from Gojo Satoru.

You chalked up the first one to exhaustion and running on short time; you considered the rather harsh shove to be an accident— the bad press ruining it for the few good eggs out there; and you tried to excuse each and every moment for something that it wasn’t. However, you couldn’t excuse what he said. “How does it feel to know that you’re writing for a sports column because your life could never amount up to mine?”

It took that comment to make you realize that he was just a horrible human being, a self-proclaimed prodigy despite never showing any true potential until his late teens. It took you a while to realize that the man just had too much of an ego on him. You figured that at some point in time that people would come to that revelation that while he had the talent, his nastiness would unravel in his own career. He just needed a push.

(And you needed something groundbreaking.)

However, you didn’t expect your nudge would lead him to an embarrassing fall as news articles come out revealing how much he’s been overworking himself. You just needed something to call for attention, and for something that would make your boss believe that you still had that edge in you. With significant time passing from your initial post about aforementioned baseball players, your boss believed your potential was running thin, egging you to steer back into the path of career-ending blog posts. Falling into the bait, all your intentions of posting that article had been for selfish ones, but never had you been a liar.

Just as quick as people were able to call Gojo a dying flame, they were just as quick to put the blame on you for his downfall. Noting that this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t fabricated such lies to tarnish his name. People pulling up old clips to note your supposed harsh encounters with Gojo Satoru, and calling out each and every one of your “lies.” Just as you had tried tarnishing his name, people were now trying to ruin yours, and calling for Gojo Satoru back on the court, praying for a speedy recovery.

And with shoulders slumped as you hold a cardboard box with your most prized possessions inside.

“Your name has led this company under a lot of backfire for what you’ve been releasing,” your boss’s eyes holding no remorse as he sends you on your way. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to let you go.”

With a heavy sigh, you can only call this your karma.

─────

After contemplating for a week, Gojo finally pulls out his phone and dials Higuruma’s number. It only takes his phone two rings before he hears the deep and gravelly voice of his manager answering his call, “Hello?”

“I’ll take the position,” Gojo’s straightforward, his voice trembling as he’s accepted the conditions that his team has given him. After being bedridden in the hospital, doctors telling him that his body was shutting down due to years of being overworked and his body succumbing to his self-inflicted suffering, it gave him time to reflect. Racking through his mind, he remembers some of the occasions that people spoke ill about him. It made him realize that you were right and instead of the rage that he underwent, he should’ve been doing self reflection.

“Huh?” his disoriented manager hums in confusion. Gojo sighs, rolling his eyes as he throws open his front door. The doctors had told him to take it easy, to not work out and just… rest. However, would a quick jog kill him? With his smart watch on his wrist as he steadies to speed walking before finding a gate to lean against.

“That coach position at that basketball camp,” he further clarifies. “You’re… right. It’ll do a lot of good for me.”

Maybe I’ll actually become the role model that I thought I was. There’s a pause, where Gojo believes that the call has disconnected. However, when he taps on the watch screen, his manager’s name still blares brightly. “Uh, hello?”

“Sorry, no, I heard you,” Higuruma collects himself. “Truthfully, I didn’t expect you to accept so quickly—” his coach chuckles in between “— I thought you’d need more convincing.”

Am I really such a stubborn ass? Gojo didn’t realize that he had voiced his thoughts out loud, shocked when his manager responded bluntly, “Yes.”

A vein starts protruding his temple, eyebrows knitting together in momentary annoyance. However, he catches himself before he could flip. Inhaling and exhaling as those self help articles and apps have been instructing him to do, closing his eyes as he calms himself gradually. Instead of anger, a dry laugh falls from his lips. “Just send me the details— please.”

─────

You were a coach when you weren’t a journalist. Something that you did per diem when things were slow at the office, but now that you had been fired and no other company seemed to want you after your tremendous fall, you had to take up more hours to pay the bills while you considered the possibilities of how you could fill the void in your journalist heart.

Tik Tok was oversaturated with opinionated people, but would they accept one more person? Did you have anything to offer on the ex-dancing app?

You heard your name being called, another one of the coaches, but the head of the camp within itself, Masamichi. “Yo, I need to speak to you for a second.”

Nodding, you call for your aspiring basketball players to take a ten minute break as you step to the side. Masamichi sighs as his hands prop on his hips, his head hanging low as he glances towards you. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m toying with you. Please understand that.”

“What’re you on about now?” You furrow your eyebrows, a little snort of air leaving your nose as you try to stay lighthearted. However, with the seriousness of his voice, you know that whatever he’s going to tell you won’t be anything to laugh about.

“We’re getting a new coach this Friday,” Masamichi says, bouncing on his heels. Your eyes beam, trying to understand why exactly this would hold any detriment towards you. A new coach was always a good thing in your eyes.

Seeing that flicker of light in your eyes, Masamichi inwardly grimaces when he adds, “it’s going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Oh. “Apparently it’s to help clear his name. At first, when Higuruma called me and proposed the idea, we both thought it would be an ordeal where he would completely decline. However, Higuruma called back and said that he actually accepted the offer. After a week, mind you, but—”

“It’s fine,” you interject Masamichi’s ramble. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You think you’re trying to convince yourself that more than you are him. He knows it, too. Grabbing a hold of your upper arm, the older man looks you in your eyes. “Listen—” When his voice deepens, you know he’s taking on that role of a father figure. “—If he gives you a hard time, let me know. You’re an asset here. You work well with the kids and I’ve seen so much improvement ever since you joined us full time.”

Masamichi knows you well. Really well that he knows that you use humor to deflect how you’re truly feeling. “He won’t be a bother. I’m the career-ender after all.”

The hefty sigh that falls from your lips accompanied by the awkward and shifty laughter lets the older individual beg to differ. However, he knows that if he pushes any further, you’d only get snappy with him, so he puts you to the challenge. “If he makes you break, I’m giving him your trainees.”

You gasp, “For him to tarnish? That’s under your jurisdiction.”

“Then, do what you do best. I’m counting on you.”

─────

Gojo really did have all intentions of bettering himself. To leave his selfishness and conceit in the past. He always thought he worked well with adolescents, believing that despite still having so much to learn, he could also help them unlock what makes them so different from the rest. However, the moment Masamichi told him that he would be working alongside you, playing the role as your assistant coach, the sound of your name made his blood boil and the sight of you making his eye twitch.

Rummaging through his mind, he remembers your face. He understands why exactly you would react the way you did. He had no reason to treat you so woefully, but you were the one that seemed to nudge his domino pieces before fate had called it. When you greeted yourself, you tried to exude someone who was kind hearted and sweet, but Gojo wanted to unravel you the same way you did him. Also, what did you know about basketball and how to teach kids?

Inhale and exhale, Satoru, he reminds himself as he watches you instruct the students to take laps up and down the steps. You seemed so comfortable and in your element— more comfortable than him— and Gojo wanted to rile you up. It began with snide comments, statements that blatantly showed his resentment towards you. “I don’t know, guys. Your coach has been someone to end careers, why’d you want to listen to them?”

It made you tick the way he was evidently trying to get a rise out of you, but fortunately, your students spoke up for you before you could defend yourself. “We listen to Coach ___ because they help shape us into good people as well as good players. You’ll only teach us how to eat the court the same way you did.”

That snide remark made his ears turn red, quickly nipping that tactic in the bud. Instead, he became smarter, but in your eyes, pettier. Small pranks that were initially a nuisance— replacing your sugar with salt, water buckets over the door, and glitter bombs that went off at the right times. Small things that would momentarily get you annoyed, but ultimately have you moving on with your day. You played a big game online, but in reality, you were a measly ant along with the rest of the herd.

Masamichi tried saving you when he could, but you always batted off his attempts. You could handle a man-child. However, everyone had their line and Gojo found out where to cut it. He had heard that you didn’t like bananas, and completely detested them. Every time that Masamichi went out for a run, you’d always ask for a smoothie, but always put the emphasis on no bananas. He saw the perfect opportunity to fuck with you.

Your typical order that he had managed to memorize with the amount of times you recited it, but just with the addition of bananas. He learned that the drink was actually a simple Strawberry Banana smoothie, just with a few other unnecessary ingredients. He held the liquid delicacy as he walked into the building. Your vehicle parked out front notifying him that you were on work grounds today, early like you habitually are. He had the drink in a paper cup warmer to have a barrier from the condensation on it, and he had the worker write your name on the cup instead of his. He had added his own personal touch to it, writing ‘Just because’ on the side without actually letting you know it was from him. And when you weren’t looking, he set it down alongside your things and went about his day.

─────

“Ooh,” you hummed, spotting the drink on the counter next to your backpack. Picking it up, you read the sides. In a low voice, you repeated, “‘Just because…’”

Deducing it down to Masamichi, you pull open the fridge to slide the fruity beverage towards the back before stuffing your lunchbag right in front of it. While this wasn’t your journaling career, where your food and drinks have been stolen a bunch of times, you still had to be about your belongings just in case of the off chance. That off chance being Gojo.

You can only hope that he doesn’t make your day too difficult as you head around back. With the schedule changing biweekly and the forecast calling for an all-sunny week, your team will be instructed to use the outside court all week unless the weather decides otherwise. Adorned in a simple white t-shirt over your sports bra, you had it tied in the back as you had on sports pants. The sun was beating down on you. It didn’t even take five minutes for you to pull out your baseball cap and shove it on your head. A tall shadow started to overcast you and with one quick glance back, it’s the white-headed devil himself. Trying to keep it cordial as much as you could, you gave him your typical greeting for everyone, even a stranger. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” he yawns, crossing his arms. “Everything going swell so far?”

Quirking up an eyebrow, you give him a knowing look. “Swell? That’s been your weakest alarm so far. What is it so far? Distracting me before I realize that you’ve miraculously got the children to take your side and they’re going to start throwing water balloons at me? No—” you purse your lips, a finger on your chin. “—You’re not actually that smart.”

“No,” he scoffs. The kids still don’t like him enough to side with him. “I was genuinely checking up on you. I see my attempt has failed.”

“Like your career,” you remark.

“Because of you.”

“Because of your abhorrent attitude and personality.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for you.”

“Do you ever accept accountability for your own actions?”

“Do you?”

The gravel under your shoes sounds as you turn to face him. You want to shout at him, to continue to throw insults at him. However, as you look up at the bastard. You let out a deep sigh, and your tough act falls. “I didn’t mean for you to really take my words to heart. I just—”

Gojo scoffs. “Like I’d believe that. You seemed to really love your little nickname a few seconds ago.”

“Only because you pushed me to—” You take another second. “Can’t you just make this easy for me?”

“No.”

“God, you’re so immature,” you breathe, before inevitably continuing, “I’m being honest, I really am. My boss— My old boss, he was hounding me that I lost my spark, and while I meant every word I said in that article, I didn’t actually think you would take it to heart.”

“What?” Gojo snorts, despite taking in your apology for what it's worth. He can hear the sincerity in your voice. “Think that all professional athletes are conceited and heartless?”

“No,” you scoff. “Just thought you were someone more thick-skinned. Didn’t really see the fragile little boy that you still are.”

You didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. In fact, you didn’t mean to say it at all. Your eyes widen as realization strikes you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it—”

“No, you’re right,” he says uncharacteristically calmly. “You’re right. I’m still that fragile little boy, but you still amount to nothing, coaching a bunch of kids who might not ever truly make it. And if they do, they’ll still be leaving you in the dust, where you still amount to nothing.”

And it cuts this time as well, but at least you can convince yourself that you deserved it.

─────

“I don’t know why I said it,” you sigh, slouching across the booth seat from Masamichi, still reflecting on what you told Gojo and ultimately what he told you. With the smoothie in hand, you swirl the straw around as you mix the large ice chunks with the rest of it. “I didn’t really mean how I said it. I was just trying to say that I understand him— where he’s coming from. It just didn’t come across how I wanted it to.”

“Yeah,” Masamichi hums. “You always struggled with finding the right words to say. Somehow, your journalism career lasted longer than I anticipated.”

You playfully kick at his shin, gaining no reaction from the man as the two of you chuckle. “I deserve it, though. What he said.”

“Mmm,” the older man shakes his. “That’s a reach. I understand where you're coming from and his reasoning too, but at the end of the day, he accepted his position to help learn how to manage situations like this and to build a more kind soul. He needs to build tougher skin and learn how to react under weighty circumstances like this.”

“Yeah, but still—” You reach for the smoothie at last, taking a sip from the straw.

“‘Yeah, but still’ nothing,” Masamichi points at you. “You didn’t deserve it. End of the story.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “By the way, thanks for the smoothie. You didn’t have to, because now I feel like I have to pay you—”

“I didn’t buy you the smoothie.” You didn’t have the time to process what he was saying, feeling like your throat was clogging up and like you couldn’t breathe. Hives started covering your arms as you started to drown out every sound, including the panicked shouted of Masamichi as soon as he saw your skin.

“Shit,” he cursed, calling out your name and reaching for your bag. “Your epipen, where is it?”

He was trying to act fast, dumping out all of your stuff, but to no avail, he couldn’t find the device. Hearing the commotion, people that were passing by peaked in to see what was happening. “Masamichi, what’s—”

“Call the ambulance!” he shouts. “Fuck!”

─────

“Gojo!” he hears his name being called from across the court. A coworker he doesn’t know the name of, but from the hurriedness in his steps, Gojo doesn’t have the time or chance to try and remember. “Bring every student inside! It’s an emergency!”

He doesn’t have to rush in the kids himself, they do it without any further instruction as everyone rushes towards the double doors. Leading the kids inside of the auditorium, they’re all instructed as everyone’s updated about what has happened. (Your Name) had an allergic reaction to her smoothie. Masamichi had to call the ambulance.

Eyes widening as Gojo puts the puzzle pieces together. It was because of him. The sound of ambulance sirens bring him back to reality as Gojo curses under his breath. “Shit!”

He doesn’t think before acting, running in the direction of where people were saying she was, pushing open the doors to the lounge to see you on the ground and Masamichi hovering over her.

“I’m so sorry!” he immediately comes to apologize, not giving his boss a moment to hurry him out of the room. “I didn’t realize that she was allergic to bananas. I did it as an innocent prank! I didn’t know!”

“You what?” Forgetting about you on the ground, Masamichi comes to stand over your body and heads straight towards Gojo. “You fucking idiot! Are you aware that they could die because of your idiocy?”

Gojo’s done a lot of stupid things in his life, but he’s never felt the guilt the way that this act has him feeling right now. He nods, unable to choke out a yes as his eyes divert from Masamichi’s eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“You better hope and pray that she lives through this, boy, because if she doesn’t—”

The EMTs burst through the doors just in time, asking where the victim lies as Masamichi diverts his attention back to you. Helping the men get you on the gurney as they treat you for your anaphylactic shock and getting your vitals back on track before leading you towards the big vehicle. Masamichi doesn’t bat an eye back in Gojo’s direction, and Gojo had not managed to make himself useful as he watched the entire act go down. In too much of a shock, realizing how once again, his selfishness and rage took over that he nearly killed someone because of it. The tears streaming down his eyes have now dried up and the ongoing looks from his coworkers don’t make him feel any better.

Again, his feet do the thinking as he heads straight outside and to his vehicle. He’s abandoning the kids, yes, but there are more capable adults inside the camp to know how to look over them. He knows that after this life-threatening ordeal, he’ll no longer be accepted back.

He also knows that Masamichi will probably beat him down for even trying to attempt visiting you, but he’ll take his chances.

─────

Masamichi had forced you to take two weeks of PTO the moment you had been discharged from the hospital. Establishing himself as your second father figure, he didn’t give you much choice in the matter the moment you immediately tried returning back to the camp. You don’t remember much about the incident, except the fact that one moment you were thanking him for the drink and the next, you weren’t able to breathe.

When you tried to ask for more details from Masamichi and the doctors, they could only tell you what you already knew— your allergic reaction to bananas nearly caused your death. It was evident that the doctors didn’t know the entire story as well and that Masamichi wasn’t telling you something. He chalked it all up to an accident, saying that he forgot to tell the worker to exclude the bananas. However, you could tell something was missing.

Was it really just a foolish mistake or was he keeping something out? You know that it was pointless to go back to the camp. Halfway into the first week of your break, you know Masamichi will do what he did to you the first time you pulled this stunt— drag you right back outside and to your car. But would a little visit hurt anybody?

Dressed in comfortable clothing, you wear a spaghetti-strapped top and a pair of sweats. With the sun beating down on you, a bead of sweat already threatens to drip down the temple of your forehead. You speed walk to the double doors, swinging them open to be met with the silence of the hallways. Checking the time, all the students should be on the court training right now. In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of balls bouncing and dribbling down the court.

There’s something restricting about the air when you walk down the hallway. Tension lingering from all corners of the building. Usually, there are more people sauntering around on the outside, filling out papers and documents and running quick errands. But, it’s empty. Turning a corner, you’re finally greeted by someone, Yuuji, one of the high school volunteers looking for hours.

“Oh,” he gasps, saying your name. “You’re not supposed to be back until another week or so.”

“Yeah, I’m just visiting,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry. Where’s everyone? Usually, there are more people out and about?”

“Well, we’re a little bit understaffed,” Yuuji squirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “With you on break and Gojo getting fired, Mr. Masamichi thought it was best that every adult got more involved until you’re back.”

“Gojo’s fired?” you furrow your eyebrows. “Why? What happened—” Before Yuuji could say anything more, you snorted. “— Don’t tell me that he pulled a prank on Masamichi instead of me?”

“N-no,” Yuuji stammers. “He, uh— Um… Actually, I think I gotta go. Megumi’s probably wondering where I am right now. I gotta head back.”

It’s evident that the boy’s hiding something, trying to fabricate a lie to get himself out of the situation. Before he could dash off, you grab him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You can see him wince, knowing that he has no way to get out of the conundrum he put himself into now. You give him a look, it’s not stern, but a soft and concerned look. A look that has Yuuji melting before you can even ask him to tell you the truth. “Masamichi’s going to kill me, but—”

When the bell rings, you make a bee line straight for Masamichi. It’s lunch time, meaning that he’s heading straight for the cafeteria with his students in line. Yuuji’s long run off to find Megumi, heading in the opposite direction of you. When you spot him, his back is turned to you as he guides the students inside, barking at two trouble makers who refuse to follow orders the first time. “Get in line! Don’t make me say it again!”

You don’t notify him of your presence until his entire class is inside the cafeteria before you’re blurting out. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was Gojo?”

Shoulders stiffening, Masamichi’s head swivels to see you shocked. Trying to deflect from your question, his gaze immediately turns stern as he points a finger at you. “I told you not to come back until your break’s over.”

“Answer my question,” you frown. “Why did you lie to me?”

He sighs, knowing that he can’t run from this discussion with you. After all, you had a right to know. “Let’s speak about this somewhere more private.”

He leads you inside of a vacant classroom, gesturing you to sit down at any of the available desks as he leans against one himself. He sighs, holding his head down. “Apparently it was supposed to be a prank. Heard you talking one day and thought it would be funny to give you a drink with bananas.”

You tut out a breath of air, keeping your head down as you digest the information. “He had the audacity to try and visit you in the hospital. They had to rip me off before I could do any proper damage to the boy. Tried sending flowers after that, but I threw them all away.”

“But, didn’t you think I had a right to know that he tried to kill me?”

“Yes, but—” Masamichi knew that he didn’t have a good enough reason. That his choices were all fueled by anger. “His people offered payment. Enough to cover your medical bills and enough to say that he’s sorry.”

“So, they’re giving me hush money basically,” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but if you want his manager’s number, I’ll forward it to you and hopefully, you can find some equal grounds to agree on.”

“I wish you told me this from the jump,” you say.

“And I’m sorry for not,” Masamichi confesses. “I thought I was doing it to protect you at first, but I was just angry that he took it this far.”

“I’m just a fool for thinking that you’d buy me a smoothie so early in the morning,” you try to laugh it off, but Masamichi keeps those same frown lines on his face.

“I’m a fool for even allowing him to work here,” he sighs. Before you can say anything about the comment, Masamichi stands to his feet and grips you by the shoulder. “Time to send you back on your way. I’ll forward you the number to his manager and hopefully after that, you’ll get some peace back into your life.”

“I really just came to visit, you know,” you sigh. “Let me stay a little longer. I miss the kids.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” he says. Nudging him, you let Masamichi lead you right back out to your car. When you’re driving home and waiting at a red light, your phone buzzes and you receive a message from him— Gojo’s Manager (Higuruma Hiromi): xxx-xxx-xxxx.

─────

You and Higuruma come to an agreement that you’ll take the hush money— which he claims isn’t— if you can meet with Gojo himself. However, the only way you can meet Gojo is through you signing a nondisclosure agreement about the entire ordeal. You reluctantly agree because you really want some closure, and you had no intentions of going to the police about it. After the entire situation, you’re just tired and want this all to just go away. The authorities would only add to your stress and that might kill you quicker than your allergic reaction.

Higuruma sets up for the two of you to meet at a hotel, booking a room for the two of you to speak in private— accompanied by the manager himself, as well. It’s an extravagant and luxurious place with architecture that made you believe that you had actually stepped inside of a museum. You beam in awe, but it’s all cut short when a man approaches you, and calls your name. “That’s you, correct?”

You nod. “Yes, you’re Higuruma, right?”

“Yes,” he answers. You didn’t know what to expect of the man, thinking he’d be some older man— bald— and not a man with sunken brown eyes and stringy dark hair. His eyes clearly reflect how he always sounded on the phone, exhausted, as he instructs you to follow him. The two of you walk side by side in silence before he’s clicking the ‘up’ button to the elevator and leading the way.

The room he’s booked is gorgeous, closely resembling a home within itself as you’re immediately greeted to a family and dining area. Vintage-style couches and rugs with intricate patterns on it. It’s gorgeous. “I will let Gojo know that you’re here,” Higuruma gestures towards the dining area. “Take a seat and I’ll be back in a second.”

It takes five minutes of you admiring the centerpiece before you hear the shuffling of feet and the creak of a door opening. Craning your neck around, you watch as a disheveled Gojo leaves the confines of the hotel bedroom to pull out a chair across from you, never once meeting you in the eye. He looks like a mess, white hair worse than it usually is, sapphire eyes that look lost as purple eyebags hang, and he looks like Higuruma just had to drag him out of bed, wearing a charcoal gray t-shirt that’s all crushed up and stained black sweats. When he slouches in his seat, his voice is more gravelly than you’re used to. “You can leave, Higuruma.”

“You know I can’t do that—”

“You can leave!”

He doesn’t have to say it again for a third time. Higuruma’s eyes flash from Gojo to you before heading towards the door, leaving the hotel room altogether. However, both you and Gojo know that the man still awaits right outside the door. When an uncomfortable amount of silence has passed, Gojo’s surprisingly the first to speak. “Go ahead. Yell and me, and tell me how much of a horrible person I am.”

“I—”

“I deserve it,” he whispers. “I— I’m a shitty excuse of a person.”

“I just—” You catch yourself. When you called Higuruma and asked to meet with Gojo, you never really had a plan or prepared anything for what you were going to say. You never did know why you wanted to speak to him. You just needed to see him, see how he was holding up. When Masamichi told you the truth, it was hard to digest and at first, you were in denial. However, when you got home, you were furious. You cried out your anger, you screamed out your anger, and you ripped out your anger. However, you could never really voice it out in actual words. But a vice inside of you just calmly told you to vent. Vent like you did the first time and the second time. So, again, you tried.

“I just—” you clenched your fists. “—Did you realize how stupid you were?”

You said it in such a calm and low voice that it made him shudder. He kept his head low, still not wanting to meet his eyes. “Do you realize how dumb and fucking stupid you are? For days at a time, pulling off ridiculous fucking pranks all because you had a personal vendetta against me to the point you nearly killed me!

“At first, I excused it, but you had every right to be angry,” you continued. “ But, I literally could not breathe. All because you thought I didn’t like bananas. You’re so fucking stupid!”

“I know…” he whispers and miraculously you hear him.

“I don’t think you really do,” you sneer. “You ran up and down that court like you owned it, disregarding anything and everyone because you thought you were the best. Treated your own teammates as collateral damage with the excuse of bringing home another win, then wanted to cry like a little bitch because you felt threatened about what I had to say to you.”

You continue to rant out your frustrations, feeling the tension leave your body as tears pool from the corner of your eyes. Never did you realize that Gojo’s finally mustered up the courage to finally look into them. “And you might be right,” your bottom lip quivers. “I might be left in the dust, my life amounting to nothing in the end, but I’m the person who turned you into nothing, so who really has the power, huh?”

You invade his personal space, reaching across the table to point a finger in his chest. He can feel your quick breaths against his face. “It was a shame that I couldn’t watch your soul die on that court first hand. I’d have loved to spit on your grave.”

You’re so close that he can see every speckle on your face, his eyes softening at the flicker of rage that runs rampant through you. He concludes it as a spur of emotions when his lips touch yours, tasting the faint touch of lip gloss against your lips and mint of your toothpaste. He feels the fleeting moment in which you reciprocate the taste of his supple pink tongue against yours before a sting to the face detaches his lips from yours. And he’s met back with that fiery gaze of yours before your eyes falter. “What— fuck—”

This one is more seering, sucking the breath from his lungs as he feels your fingers knot inside of his white locks. The two of you stretching across the piece of furniture, lips locked onto each other’s. His arms reach for your waist with need, pulling you to him and dragging you across the table, nearly sending the two of you flying off the seat. Catching each other’s balance, his grip around your waist tightens as a deep sigh falls from his lips.

He presses you against him hard, making you feel the growing ache of his cock, swelling up from lust as he latches onto you. The palpitating air thickens as he attempts to swallow you whole. He pulls away, chest rising and falling, as his pupils dilate. He breathes, “Tell me how much you hate me.”

Hands wrapping around his neck, your nails dig into his skin. “I fucking hate you. I wish we never crossed paths.”

Fuck, he curses inwardly, pulling back to his lips as his arms begin to wander the course of your body. You’re wearing a simple top and shorts that stop mid-thigh. Fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, his long and slender digits send the cotton material upwards, exposing your bare waist and up to your sports bra. The sage green elastic material hugs onto your chest as he throws your shirt off. You ground your hips to his pelvis, the denim rubbing against his covered cock and eliciting foreign sounds from his lips. And your lips tremble in hurt, eyes getting glossy as you pull away from him. You hold his face, caressing it and forcing him to see how hurt you are. “I could’ve died, Satoru. Do you really realize how fucking stupid you were?”

“I do…” His eyes flicker away from yours before he feels your fingers digging into his skin. “I do… I was so fucking stupid.”

Grinding your hips down, Gojo’s hands fall back to your waist, keeping you grounded there. “You deserve to rot in jail.”

He nods, this time mouthing the two words, I do. He goes to toy with the button of your jeans shorts, undoing it and pulling down the zipper. You grab onto his wrist, stopping him from continuing. “You’re forever indebted to me, y’know that? No amount of money can silence me.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he easily succumbs. “I’ll get on my knees for you.”

“Want to get that in writing?”

“Yes.” Guiding Gojo’s hand into the depths of your shorts and past the band of your underwear, he feels the curls of your pubic hair, playing with the tufts of locks before dipping down further. Your hips rise as you latch back onto his lips and tug down your pants, kicking them off when they pool at your ankles. All the while, Gojo’s hand is still stuck inside your underwear, playing with your clit and sliding his digits down your folds. Arousal pooling from your cunt that he can only imagine tastes sweet. He can only hope that you’ll give him the opportunity to try.

He rolls his thumb against the dark bud as his index and middle finger delve deeper, heart pounding against his chest as his back sinks into the back of the chair. Your slick is sticky, gliding against his digits as he feels your folds, dancing around your entrance. Legs spread as your hips are in the air, your spine shudders as you inhale deeply. Your nails dig into his biceps, certainly marking and bruising his delicate skin as it reddens under your harsh touch. Your hips gyrate and grind against his fingers, hoping for more friction than what he’s allowing you.

Everytime you leave the sweet taste of his mouth, Gojo feels his soul softly crying out as his sapphire eyes twinkle in need for you.

“Gojo,” there’s a dark look in your gaze, eyes hazy with lust that looks so good on you. Hands traveling to knot themselves back into his hair, you tug harshly. “Don’t you want me to feel good?”

Your eyes soften, feigning innocence despite the position you’re both compromised in. Still, Gojo can’t help but fall for the spell you have him under. “Yes, I do.”

You’re close, capturing his bottom lip in between your teeth as you bite down on it, nearly drawing blood before letting go. “Then, stop teasing me. Be good for me, yeah? Or, are you still that pathetic little boy I always knew you were— er, are?”

“I’ll be anything you need me to be,” he breathes.

“Then, fuck me with your fingers,” you say. “Make me feel good.”

Gojo Satoru really is a skilled and talented man whose potential died down with his continuously poor choices. You truly meant it when you said he had so much more to unlock and hone in on with his skill, but his selfishness and greed overpowered him. But, right now, you can only see a selfless man who wants to please. A man who’s finally using those skills and practice and putting them to good use. His lengthy fingers twist and turn inside of you, your arousal dripping out of you like the sweet sap from trees. They drip down between each knuckle, messing up his calloused hands, but he couldn’t care less. However, while you saw selflessness in this moment, he still thinks he’s a selfish boy as he finds himself greedy, needing you like never before.

With every thrust of his fingers, he feels the tips of them touch that spongy spot inside of you. And you make the sweetest of sounds, a noise that’d have sailors out at sea captivated. Your head’s thrown back, hair falling past your shoulders as your back’s arched and accentuating your breasts. He’s got your sports bra pushed up, revealing your round breasts as they gently bounce as you bounce on his digits. His lips have found home in the juncture of your neck, kissing down your jaw and to that sweet spot on your neck, making your juices continue to pour out of you.

He’s still a selfish man, wanting for you to stay like this if he can get the opportunity to forever make amends and have you look this beautiful as he makes you feel good. Your walls would clench around his fingers every once in a while, a quick spasm notifying that he’s succeeding. There’s a soft squelch sounding in the air, the stench of you intermingling as well as Gojo’s pre stains his underwear and probably have long seeped to his sweats. However, there’s more worrying things to stress about.

Your mouth falls open into an ‘O’ as your eyes flutter shut, your heat pulsating in alert as you feel Gojo’s fingers quicken its pace. You hear him curse, fuck, alongside you as your cries are soft. Legs tensing up as his free arm wraps around the expanse of your hips, he holds you still as you feel that coil inside of you snap. “Gojo, fuuuck—”

You paint his fingers in white, walls spasming around him as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. White dripping down to the seat of the chair before you feel an absence and a sting to your clit, a clap sounding through the dining area of the hotel room. You squeal, a high-pitched sound that makes Gojo’s chest rumble. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you nudge him, hearing him chuckle. You silence his moment of amusement with need, your eyes meeting his beautiful ones as they speak all he needs to know, but still you vocalize it.

“I need more, Gojo,” you whine, eyebrows knitting together as you tilt your head to the side. “Y’think I’ll forgive you just for your fingers, hm?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Y’think I’ll forgive you if you continue to fuck me against this table?” It didn’t take him long to scoop you up in his arms, displaying his strength with such ease that it takes away your breath. You go to caress his face, softly telling him, “Good boy.”

Bringing you to the private room, he places you on the bed with a gentleness before climbing over you. Like a dog trained to be loyal and obedient, he waits as he admires your beautiful state. Reaching for the straps of your bra, he pulls you out of it and rids you of your soiled panties. He admires your naked state, eyes taking in every curve and blemish that you have. Absent-mindedly, he sighs, “So beautiful…”

“C’mon,” you coax him closer. “Come and fuck me already.”

Gojo realizes that he’s still completely dressed, doing both of you the favor of shedding himself of his shirt, revealing his well refined body. His body seemed to have been carved by the gods themselves, taking extra time to care for him and make sure that he dazzled every man and woman that walks in his path. And when he pulls down his pants, he reveals his defined thighs and calves as his boxer briefs hugs onto his skin, his erection prominent underneath. You can see the wet patch of his pre, making the white fabric translucent as you see the dusty rose color of his tip.

Gojo dips, calling the moment to a close as he presses his weight into you. His pelvis bends to meet your soaked core, still stained with your orgasm. Clothed erection rubbing against your sensitive nub and making your body shudder as Gojo kisses along your neck. His hand dips to tug down the hem of his underwear, making his cock jump out in excitement as he cups his balls and guides his length to your sopping pussy. His reddening tip gets needy as he slides his shaft down your folds, lubricating his length in you before aligning himself to your ready entrance.

Your heart starts racing, feeling just how long he is. You lock eyes with Gojo as you dig your elbows into the bed to meet him for a kiss. Gently, you feel his head nudge open your walls, pressing deep as he enters you. This kiss tastes of longing on Gojo’s behalf, how he inhales you as he pushes inch by inch inside. The warmth of you makes him want to stay like this forever, feeling his balls tighten up as he bottoms out. This kiss is slow as you hear the wetness of your lips against each other as it goes from deep to quick pecks. It’s distracting and confusing you for what this is— a desperate and wrongly executed display of your raw emotions.

No, this is starting to feel like something more. However, you need this. You need to feel this power you have over the man. You need to feel this. So, you take it. Greedy and wanting, the both of you switch places. Though, you fear, you’ve always been a selfish person and Gojo’s starting to unravel that side of you.

Pulling out of you, only leaving the tip in, the next plunge of his cock is purposeful. Gojo wedges himself deep inside of you, bottoming out inside of you as his hips shimmy. You gasp out, back arching as your breasts press into his chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathes, a pathetic sob leaving him as he continues these slow and well-calculated thrusts that force you to feel all of him. Each one spelling out how pathetically sorry he is. “Don’t deserve to be buried deep inside of your cunt.”

Gradually, his thrusts quicken, calling for sweet sobs and mewls to leave your lips. With each drill of his hips, you feel his head kissing that soft spongy spot deep within. Making your toes curl as your legs go to wrap around his waist. Your mind is a fog, but still, you find the will to speak, to say something coherent. “You don’t deserve any part of me. You’re nothing but a greedy piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, and again, he says, “Yeah? How much?”

“So much,” you cry. “I hate you so much. So, so much.”

And soon enough, those three words continue to pour from your lips as Gojo fucks into your wheeping pussy. The wetness sounds and echoes through the room alongside your mixed grunts and moans. You grip onto his biceps, marking up his arms even more as he takes in every call of hatred you make to him. And when you feel that familiar quiver to your cunt, you feel the waterworks coming, your eyes pricking with tears as you sob. And with his thumb, Gojo goes to wipe them away with his thumb. He apologizes incessantly, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

This release is different, making your entire body spasm in his hold as you feel your inner thighs become soaked. Your stomach is coiling as your legs tighten even more. He feels your release against your stomach, the translucent liquid splashing against him as he curses low. He feels the twitch of his cock, pulling his length as he goes to rub at your clit, watching how explosive your second orgasm is. He leaks onto your stomach, white dripping from his tip and making a mess of you. His chest rises and falls as body comes to slowly relax when the last of your juices splatter onto him.

Your body’s exhausted, wasting your tears and energy on a man who doesn’t care. “You tried to kill me, Gojo. I don’t— I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

Satoru believes he’ll be able to live with that.

─────

GOJO SATORU JUST POSTED ON TIK TOK!

Each and every one of Gojo’s videos were fabricated by this management team, never truly putting in effort into using the app himself. However, he finds himself so warped inside of his mind that he feels like he needs to issue a statement out himself. Without his manager or PR Team knowing themselves. Pressing the button to begin recording, he lets out a sigh.

“Hello everyone,” he begins. “Truth be told, I haven’t prepared a speech for what I wanted to say because of the recent course of events. I didn’t think I would ever address this, but I think it’s about time that I do.”

He clears his throat. “I want to start off with that article and all the claims that it states against me,” he begins. “I want to confirm that they’re all true.”

Within the course of ten minutes, Gojo believes that he’s spoken his mind and has given out a genuine apology. Giving him some sense of satisfaction as he ends it with, “And because of all the mistakes and misdeeds that I’ve done, I’m going to end my basketball career with this apology as I hope that the people that I’ve hurt can find some solace in it.

“I’m not expecting nor am I asking for your forgiveness,” he sighs. “Just— I just want to do right by someone that I’ve hurt and work on the path of growth. Thanks and goodbye.”

credits ⋆ thanks to my babe, @satoao, for beta-reading over this work. my favorite gojo lover.

subscriptions. @madwomansapologist @sleepynoons @gojosoups @luvvcho @cailliz @celestialceremonials @emyyy007 @gojosnutgobbler @nariminsstuff @emmaleens333 @scurfi @hoelynecujoh @bbyrugou @serafina-nyx @sorilyae @lovelyjkook @alonahh

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo angst #gojo smut #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #tw: (n)sfw

1K notes · View notes

uh-mxtx · 7 months ago

Text

Modern-au Binghe who inherits Tianglang-jun’s massive fuck off mansion with like 4000 rooms after living on the streets/foster system after his adoptive mom died (idk i just need him to have big house) and he goes “what the hell am I supposed to do with this” and Meng mo (cant be a demon here ive decided he’s a weird homeless guy who gives him advice. That or a schizophrenic hallucination) goes “fill it with women” and binghe who knows he is gay goes “no”

But then he hears some girls complaining about the safety of some of the campus housing/thier boyfriend or parents kicked them out/ect and he’s like “well, i can fix that” and offers his mcmansion up as apartments. He’s loaded so he barely asks for rent and he just keeps inviting women in hard times, like his mother used to be.

But his real calling is cooking so he keeps feeding his tenants and asking what they like. He’s got a youtube cooking/home ec channel and they’re his taste testers. And they start inviting their freinds over like “hey wanna meet our big gay himbo landlord who feeds us” and their freinds are like “boy do I”

Binghe is absolutely gleefull about this. More people to feed. Fuck yeah he gets to be housewife. The gossip sessions are unmatched. He ends up making a full banquet every night and you can either show up in your pj’s or a ballgown to match the decor.

And eventually all this snowballs and hes got a whole sorority in his mcmansion. and they casually call him husband/boyfreind/sugar daddy as a joke bc Binghe is JACKED and they can get rid of men real fast if they pull their six foot seven guard dog out of the crowd. For the sign off/video end the taste testers on Binghe’s show kiss his cheeks as thanks. Binghe doesn’t know half the people in his house. Some girl he never met (came out of SHL’s room and is COVERED in hickeys) just smacked his ass and stole a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t even react he just makes more. This is the best for his touch starvation.

And oblivious people(you know who) dont realize most of them are lesbians using him as a beard, (ignoring the makeouts and pride flags in the background of some videos) and they absolutely believe Luo Binghe seduced a crowd of women into a harem by the power of cooking, cleaning, and great sex.

Cough cough, Shen Yuan

#idk just setting a scene #recipe for disaster #shen yuan #luo binghe #bingqiu #modern au #svsss #PDIW harem

2K notes · View notes

tonycries · 1 year ago

Text

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will.

Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.

Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…

But, semantics.

And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?

Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin.

And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this.

You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.

“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.

“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.

You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.

“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours.

“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”

“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”

“It’s also the punchline.”

“At least my punchlines make sense.”

He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”

“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”

“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.

And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.

“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”

“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”

“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”

It might never have been about physics.

It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-

“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”

Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.

“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.

“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”

“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”

“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”

A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-

“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.

Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside.

And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall.

Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-

And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste.

Shit, you really were his favorite taste.

Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst.

Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.

Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.

“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.

He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.

“Please.”

Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge.

Almost there.

You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.

Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.

Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-

As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,

Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.

Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.

As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up.

Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.

A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.

“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”

Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.

And you don’t know why it hurt.

It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible.

As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.

Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.

Pulling back, “Satoru…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.”

Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette.

His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.

It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.

He wasn’t yours.

And he probably might never be.

Somehow that terrified you.

Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?

But why did that hurt so much?

“Gojo, I’m going home.”

Fear.

---

There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it.

The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.

And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.

No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.

Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.

So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified.

But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.

Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed.

Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…

Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face.

Have you finally gotten sick of him?

…

Nahhh.

He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.

It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.

Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him.

Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”

You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”

“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”

“Satoru. I swear to-”

A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”

Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”

“Out, both of you.”

Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces.

“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.”

Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”

Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”

“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”

A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land.

Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-”

At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”

You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty.

And that’s exactly what scared you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes.

Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”

Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.

It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.

“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations.

Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”

“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”

“Mr. Gojo.”

“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”

“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”

---

The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.

The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.

Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.

You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him.

It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.

Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Speak of the devil.

Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork.

Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.

“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”

Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.”

“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”

“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”

Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”

A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.

The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping.

And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear.

You missed him.

Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.

“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”

Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?”

Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.

At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”

A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”

Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone.

Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”

A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”

He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”

But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.”

It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-

“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”

“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”

She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.”

He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.

Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency.

“Hey, granny, I have a question.”

“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”

“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”

Ah, you think you’re dying.

Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…

It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck.

What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.

You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.

God, was the heater on too high?

The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos.

Stop it.

An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears.

You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos.

The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder. Urgent and insistent. Chaos.

“Open up! It’s Satoru!”

Satoru.

Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.

Satoru?

Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.

Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-

“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”

His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.

“Sweetheart?”

A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?

A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.

Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.

“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”

His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”

Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”

A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”

Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”

“Spill.”

“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”

“Deal!”

With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.

In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest.

Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”

Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard.

The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”

His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.

“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”

Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”

You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”

Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”

Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from.

But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him.

Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.

A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry.

And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name.

Oh.

Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”

But Satoru has never seen you like this.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.

His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.

“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”

His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.

Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”

A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.

“I know.”

“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”

“Absolutely.”

“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”

“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”

A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.

“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.

“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”

“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.

Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”

Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer.

“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.

“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.

“Insurance policy against what?”

“A promise.”

A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”

The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full.

Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise.

When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”

Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Satoru, I love you.”

And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.

“And I love you, in every universe.”

---

The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.

And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.

He…finished all of it?

Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body.

As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”

Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”

“And my charm, of course.”

“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”

“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”

“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”

A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.

Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”

“Mhm~”

A beat of silence. One. Two.

“Satoru?”

He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them.

You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly.

Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours.

His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest.

You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart.

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-

A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.

You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.

“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust.

“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”

And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.

Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless.

Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.

“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.

“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”

He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this.

But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water.

Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.

“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.

It’s a close tie.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-”

And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.

“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.

A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”

“Always knew you were a sore loser.”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“You’re on.”

Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.

His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive.

Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.

And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow.

Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more.

A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.

Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-

It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”

“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket.

You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you.

Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.

Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets.

Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”

Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit.

You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.

A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix.

It drives you insane. He drives you insane.

“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes.

“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.”

“Idiot.”

“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.

As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.

Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.

“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”

“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”

He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth.

Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”

But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.

Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.

The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-

Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.

Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.

Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows.

Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.

With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.

You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence.

Because right now, no words were needed.

“I love you.”

“And, I love you. In every universe.”

Except maybe those.

It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air.

“I win.”

An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.

You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”

A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.

“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”

“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”

“Jokes on you I’m into that.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers.

So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?!

His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?

Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange.

Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.”

“...”

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?

You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his.

Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams.

Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more.

He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next?

“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well?

Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced.

“The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Oh. This was going to be interesting.

Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart.

He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous.

It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?

Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate.

Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.

The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed.

Was that…a dream?

It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity.

You tasted so sweet.

Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination.

Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.

“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.

A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.

“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”

Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”

You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his.

Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.

“T-told you I was irresistible.”

Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.

“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.

“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you.

“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?

Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!

Plagiarism not authorized.

Taglist:

@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

4K notes · View notes

moongirlcleo · 1 month ago

Text

Behind Locked Doors

Tags: College Academy AU, Seven Minutes in Heaven, Closet Sex, Aftercare, Mutual Pining, Childhood friends to lovers, Betting Pool, Happy Ending, Crack, Fluff and Smut AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

A college academy party. A few too many drinks. And one very bold game of Truth or Dare.

You and Caleb have always been close—friends since childhood, growing up together, and maybe, just maybe, something more. At least, that’s what Patrick seems to think when he shoves the two of you into a closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. It’s all fun and games… until you both realize just how much you’ve been holding back.

Seven minutes? Not nearly enough.

The common room buzzed with an easygoing energy, full of laughter from old friends who'd weathered storms together. It was a rare celebration at Deepspace Aviation Academy, thrown by the graduating class where no one worried about schedules or debriefs. Caleb had invited you and Tara to this weekend party in Skyhaven, and you couldn't resist the chance to see him again.

You stood near the bar, idly running a finger along the rim of your glass, letting your eyes flick over the scene. Patrick was deep in conversation with another pilot, hands animated as he explained something undoubtedly flight-related. Timothy was engaged in a betting game with a few mechanics, exchanging cocky smirks and easy credits. And then there was Caleb—

His laugh rang out over the room, easy and uninhibited as he slung an arm around one of his squadmates, shaking his head at whatever nonsense had just been said. He was still the same Caleb you had known since your childhood—steadfast, warm, effortlessly charismatic.

And yet, something about him felt different tonight. Or maybe that was just you.

It wasn’t that you’d never noticed him before—of course you had. He’d been one of your closest friends, your anchor in more ways than one. But lately, there had been moments, small and fleeting, where the air between you felt charged. A glance held a second too long. The brush of his fingers when he handed you something. The way his smile softened just a little more when it was directed at you.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too much about it. Because if you did—if you acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, there was something there—you might not be able to ignore it anymore.

You’d known Caleb since scraped knees and stolen sweets, since racing each other across sun-drenched fields and climbing too-high fences just because he dared you to. He was always a step ahead—faster, bolder, never afraid to leap before looking. And you? You were right behind him, following his reckless lead, because that’s just how it had always been.

Growing up together meant knowing him better than most people ever would. You knew the way his grin tilted when he was up to something, the way his brows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the way he always—always—kept an eye on you, even when you pretended not to notice.

But there were things you hadn’t seen back then.

Like the way his gaze lingered when you weren’t looking. The way his teasing always felt just a little too careful, as if he was trying to keep from saying something he couldn’t take back. The way, over the years, his hand always found the small of your back, guiding you through crowds, protective without ever needing to say it.

You had always been his person. And maybe, just maybe, he had always been yours.

But neither of you ever said it.

"Alright, listen up, people!" Patrick clapped his hands together, standing on the edge of the lounge area with the kind of mischievous energy that made you instinctively wary. "We need to spice up the night."

A chorus of groans and amused sighs rippled through the group, but nobody actually stopped him.

"Truth or Dare," he announced, a grin creeping onto his face. "Classic, right? A little nostalgia never hurt anyone."

Timothy was the first to cheer in agreement, already eager to cause chaos. Others followed, some reluctantly, some with amusement, but nobody outright refused.

You took a slow sip of your drink. This is going to be a mess.

At first, the dares were all in good fun—Timothy had to send a ridiculous voice message to a superior officer, Patrick had to recite the Academy Code while doing a handstand, and even the normally-reserved Gideon got roped into taking a shot without making a face (he failed, naturally).

It was just a game. A silly, familiar game.

Until Patrick turned to you.

His eyes sparkled with something unreadable. “Alright, you. Truth or dare?”

You opened your mouth, instinctively ready to pick the safer option—truth, obviously—but before you could, a voice chimed in.

"Dare," Caleb said.

Your head snapped toward him.

There was nothing particularly suggestive about the way he said it, no teasing lilt to his tone, but there was a quiet certainty in his voice that made your pulse stutter.

Patrick beamed.

"Perfect," he hummed, barely missing a beat. "You and Caleb—Seven Minutes in Heaven."

The room reacted. Whistles, laughter, someone (probably Tara) dramatically gasping. Caleb merely huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, but he wasn’t protesting.

Your stomach did something strange. “That’s a little childish, don’t you think?”

Patrick shrugged, all innocence. “Nostalgia night, remember? You gotta follow the rules.”

You glanced at Caleb, expecting at least some resistance, but he just smiled—casual, relaxed, as if this was just another dare, no different from any other.

Except it was different. You felt it.

"Well?" Patrick raised a brow. "You gonna back out?"

Backing out meant drawing more attention to it. Backing out meant making it a thing. And if Caleb wasn’t overthinking it, why should you?

You sighed, setting your drink down. "Fine."

The group cheered as you and Caleb were herded toward a nearby supply closet, Patrick pushing the door open with way too much enthusiasm. It wasn’t large, but it was enough—enough for two people, enough to be alone.

"You guys be good in there," Patrick teased, winking before shutting the door behind you.

The lock clicked.

And then—silence.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your back against the wall, trying to steady your heartbeat. Seven minutes. That’s all this was.

Across from you, Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. His expression was unreadable, a far cry from the usual easy grins.

Seven minutes.

You swallowed.

Seven minutes had never felt so long.

The closet was just small enough that every shift, every breath, every slight movement was noticeable. Your back pressed against the metal paneling, the faint scent of aviation fuel and old flight manuals filling the space. The air between you and Caleb was warm, thick—not from lack of oxygen, but from something much, much heavier.

You cleared your throat, forcing a casual tone. “So, uh... what exactly are we supposed to be doing in here?”

Caleb huffed a quiet laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The movement made the fabric of his shirt pull just enough to highlight the muscle underneath. Unfair.

“Well,” he drawled, eyes glinting with amusement, “traditionally, I think we’re supposed to make out.”

You scoffed, but your stomach flipped hard. “Traditionally? That’s a childish thing.”

“Yeah, but the game’s called Seven Minutes in Heaven,” he countered, shifting slightly. The space was tight enough that when he moved, he got closer, just a fraction. “Not Seven Minutes of Staring at Each Other Awkwardly.”

You bit your lip, pretending to consider. “You make a compelling argument.”

“Right?” His grin was easy, teasing. But there was something else lurking beneath it—something softer, something more cautious. As if he was waiting for you to set the pace.

It was classic Caleb. He might have been bold in battle, charging headfirst on flight paths, but when it came to you, he was always careful. Like he’d rather die than risk making you uncomfortable.

That thought made something warm curl low in your stomach.

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “We could just sit here and talk. Catch up.”

Caleb smirked. “Yeah? You wanna talk inches away from my face in a dark closet while my friends wait for us to come out looking disheveled?”

Your lips twitched. “You got a better idea?”

“Oh, plenty,” he murmured, and suddenly, suddenly, you were hyper-aware of how close he really was.

He wasn’t touching you—not yet—but you could feel him. His warmth, his presence, the way his voice dipped just a little lower, turning the game into something a little less playful.

And you? You didn’t want to laugh it off.

You let out a slow breath, tilting your head. “Alright, big shot,” you teased, voice softer now. “If we’re playing by the rules… why don’t you make a move?”

Caleb was done hesitating.

His grip on your thighs tightened as he pressed you harder against the wall of the closet, his hips slotting perfectly against yours. You could feel him—solid, hot, unmistakably interested—and the realization sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

You let out a quiet, shuddering breath. "Caleb—"

The moment his name left your lips, something in him snapped.

His mouth crashed against yours, no second-guessing, just pure, pent-up want. He kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been holding back for years, and now that he had you here, pressed up against him, wrapped around him, he wasn’t wasting a single second.

His tongue slid against yours, slow but firm, coaxing a desperate little moan from your throat before you could stop it. The sound made his grip tremble—like he was using every ounce of willpower to keep himself in check.

You, on the other hand? You had no such restraint.

Your hands fisted in his uniform shirt, yanking him closer, pressing your hips forward just enough to get the friction you needed. The sharp inhale he took was rewarding—so much so that you did it again, rolling against him just slightly, testing.

Caleb growled.

His fingers dug into your thighs, dragging you down against him properly, making sure you felt him. "You play dirty," he murmured against your lips, but there was no real complaint, just a teasing sort of approval.

You smirked, breathless. "You like it."

His response was a sharp nip to your bottom lip, followed by a deep, rolling grind of his hips against yours. You gasped, hands tightening in his hair as sparks shot through your veins.

"I love it," he corrected.

His mouth moved down, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. He savored the way you squirmed, how your fingers curled against the back of his neck, how your thighs clenched tighter around his waist with every teasing graze of his teeth against your skin.

"Caleb—"

He shushed you with another slow grind, making you whimper. "Shh, pipsqueak," he murmured, voice rough, hot against your pulse. "You wouldn’t wanna let Patrick and the others hear you, would you?"

It was cruel, the way he asked—low, teasing, edged with something dark and thrilled at the idea of getting away with this while half the academy was just beyond his door.

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. "You’re awful."

Caleb chuckled against your skin, warm and wicked. "Nah," he countered, giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "I’m just makin’ sure we play by the rules."

He let out a low, rough chuckle, dragging his lips down your throat, your collarbone, as his hands slid further up your thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of your underwear. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing possessively into the soft skin of your legs as he lifted you higher, positioning you exactly where he wanted.

The friction was torturous, enough to make your thighs squeeze around his waist, enough to pull a sharp, wanting gasp from your lips.

He groaned at the sound, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolled his hips again, slow, deliberate, making you feel just how much he wanted you.

"Fuck," he rasped, barely keeping himself together. "You feel so damn good."

You whimpered, fingers threading tighter into his hair, tugging just to hear that desperate little growl again.

Then, with a smirk, you tilted your head, lips brushing against his ear. "So, Caleb..." you purred, voice dripping with challenge. "Are you gonna do something about it?"

His breath hitched, grip tightening—and just like that, the last thread of restraint snapped.

Caleb crashed his lips against yours again, hungrier, needier, pressing you so hard against the wall that you swore you could feel it vibrate. His hands roamed, dragging up your thighs, gripping the fabric of your underwear like he was seconds from tearing them clean off—

And then, just as his fingers hooked into the waistband—

A loud, teasing knock on the door shattered the moment.

"Times up, lovebirds!" Patrick’s sing-song voice rang out, full of mischief. "Hope you two had fun in there~!"

Caleb froze, forehead dropping against your shoulder as he let out a long, deep groan—this one purely of frustration.

You let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh, hands still tangled in his hair, still aching for him. "You have to be kidding me."

Caleb exhaled, then lifted his head, eyes dark, lips swollen, body still pressed hard against yours, as his hand fell to your thigh.

He smirked, but it was dangerous.

Caleb didn’t move. Didn’t even acknowledge Patrick’s taunting voice on the other side of the door.

Neither did you.

Because in the heat of it all, in the way his breath ghosted over your lips, the way his hands still gripped your thighs like he wasn’t ready to let go—there was no way in hell either of you were stopping now.

Patrick could wait.

You arched against him, fingers tightening in his hair, dragging his mouth back down to yours in a searing kiss—one that made it perfectly clear you had no intention of leaving this room any time soon.

Caleb groaned into it, deep and rough, pressing you harder into the wall as his hands roamed—gripping, pulling, claiming like he was making up for every second you’d spent dancing around this, for every moment wasted not doing this sooner.

Patrick knocked again, louder this time. "Helloooo? Are you guys alive in there? Or just— are you actually—?!"

"Busy," Caleb growled, voice low, gravelly as he tore his lips from yours just long enough to shout back. "Go away."

You bit back a breathless laugh, but it turned into a sharp gasp when he rolled his hips against yours, the slow, teasing drag of his hard length making your head spin.

Patrick snorted. "Busy, huh? Ohhh, I knew it." His voice was full of mischief, but he didn’t knock again.

Didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t listening.

You were too lost in the feeling of Caleb’s hands slipping beneath the hem of your dress, fingers grazing against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

"You sure?" he murmured, voice thick with restraint, with the barely held-back need burning in his eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

That was all he needed.

Caleb smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You in a rush to get out of here?”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “Not exactly.”

His grip on you flexed slightly before he moved, backing you against the wooden panels of the closet, pressing just enough of his weight against you to make your breath hitch. His knee slid between your thighs, parting them just slightly, not enough to satisfy, but enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the corner of your mouth. “Because I don’t think I’m done with you.”

The kiss was slow, deliberate—Caleb taking his time as if savoring something he’d been waiting for too damn long to have. His lips were soft but insistent, drawing a quiet gasp from you when he deepened it, pressing you further against the wall with an almost lazy kind of dominance.

His hands wandered, one slipping beneath the hem of your top, fingertips ghosting up your spine in a way that had your stomach tightening. The other drifted lower, teasing over your hip, fingers grazing just below your waistband before retreating yet again, as if daring you to ask for more.

You arched into him, impatience curling in your gut. “Tease,” you breathed against his mouth.

Caleb chuckled, low and full of promise. “I like watching you get all worked up, pipsqueak.” His lips trailed lower, down the curve of your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he nipped lightly before soothing it with his tongue. “Besides,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick, “we’ve got seven minutes, right?”

You barely bit back a laugh, but it turned into a sharp inhale when his hand finally moved lower, palming over the heat between your thighs.

“We’re already over time, and you know it,” you managed, trying to keep some semblance of control despite the way your knees nearly buckled.

With one sharp tug, your panties were gone, slipped down your thighs and tossed somewhere behind him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, the press of his clothed length against your bare core making you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathed, dragging his lips down your throat, sucking lightly at your pulse point as he worked his pants open with one hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. “Then stop waiting, Caleb.”

His breath hitched.

Caleb groaned, deep and needy, the sound vibrating against your throat as he finally freed himself from his pants. His cock, thick and aching, pressed hot against your bare core, teasing, tempting—making you feel just how much he wanted this.

Wanted you.

His fingers dug into your hips, restraining himself even as he rocked against you, letting you feel the heavy, solid weight of him. “Fuck, you’re so warm,” he rasped, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath fanning over your lips. “Been dreamin’ about this for years.”

Your nails raked down his arms, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the tension he was barely holding back. It sent heat coiling low in your belly, made you throb for him.

“Then don’t make me wait any longer,” you murmured, reaching between you, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the silky heat of his cock as you guided him to where you needed him most.

Caleb shuddered, his grip tightening, and then—

He pushed in.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he stretched you, slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to adjust to the size of him, the sheer, delicious burn of him sinking deeper.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing into your shoulder as he bottomed out, your walls squeezing around him. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath, his fingers tightening their grip. “So do you,” you whispered, tilting his chin up so his gaze met yours, lidded, hungry. “So move.”

That snapped something in him.

With a low growl, Caleb snapped his hips forward, setting a slow, deep rhythm, making sure you felt every thick, delicious inch of him with every thrust.

You gasped, nails raking down his back, thighs tightening around his waist.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the door as he moved inside you, hitting spots that made your toes curl. “Caleb—”

His teeth sank into your neck, his breath hot, shaky. “Say my name like that again,” he rasped, rolling his hips, dragging another helpless moan from you. “Say it just like that, baby.”

You did.

Over and over.

Caleb's pace turned ruthless, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring you to him as he slammed into you. The air in the tiny closet was thick, sweltering, filled with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, of your breathless moans and his deep, needy groans.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted, his forehead pressing against yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose my mind.”

You were already losing yours.

The way he stretched you, filled you completely, the way every roll of his hips hit that devastating spot inside you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he was.

“Caleb—fuck—I’m so close,” you gasped, your body tightening, trembling, your toes curling as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, tightening, building.

His jaw clenched, his thrusts turning erratic, more desperate, more needy. “I got you, baby,” he rasped, slipping a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles. “Come for me—wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

Pleasure exploded through you, hot and blinding, crashing over you in waves so powerful you swore you saw stars. Your walls clenched around him, hard and tight, and Caleb snapped, his groan raw, wrecked, as he thrust deep one last time, filling you with everything he had.

His body trembled against yours, his breath coming out in heavy, shaky pants as he slumped forward, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, anywhere he could reach.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, laughing, dazed, pressing his forehead to yours. “That was—”

“Yeah,” you whispered, equally breathless, equally wrecked. “It was.”

The knock on the closet door came again, louder, impatient.

“Seriously?!” Patrick’s voice practically groaned through the wood. “I know you guys just fucked, but we are literally at the academy! Open the damn door already!”

Caleb groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “We are never livin’ this down.”

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, still buzzing from the high. “Nope,” you agreed, smiling against his skin. “But hey… at least we finally stopped dancing around this, huh?”

He lifted his head, looking at you with something warm, something fond, something dangerous brewing behind those stormy violet eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours in a slow, teasing kiss.

“We definitely did.”

The charged air between you and Caleb had finally settled, leaving nothing but the soft echoes of your breaths and the lingering heat of what had just happened. The space around you was still dark, still cramped, the scent of him—woodsy, clean, with a faint trace of jet fuel—filling the tiny closet.

Your legs still trembled slightly where they straddled his lap, your forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath. Caleb's hands, once gripping you like he couldn’t get enough, now traced slow, soothing circles along your hips, grounding you.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice rougher than usual, but laced with something softer.

You exhaled a slow, satisfied sigh, letting your fingers trail along the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

That cocky smirk of his made a reappearance, but it was gentler this time, more fond than teasing. “Yeah?” His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in, pressing the faintest kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw. “Didn’t push too much, did I?”

You shook your head, letting your weight sink against him, completely content in the way he held you. “No, you were perfect.”

Caleb hummed, running a hand down your back before reaching for something behind you. In his hands was a discarded jacket that must’ve fallen from one of the coathangers when you’d gotten pushed inside. With careful movements, he slipped it over your shoulders, tucking you into the worn fabric as if the walls of the closet weren’t already pressing you both together. “Here. Can’t have you going out there looking too wrecked, now can I.”

You snorted, nuzzling into his chest. “Oh, please. They’re going to be insufferable either way by the sound of Patrick’s voice.”

He chuckled, fingers threading lazily through your hair. “Yeah, but at least I can pretend I left you with some dignity.”

You smirked against his shirt. “How thoughtful of you.”

A few moments passed in comfortable silence, the distant chatter from the party still going strong just beyond the closet door. Caleb’s fingers idly trailed along your arm, his touch light, reassuring. “You wanna go out there yet, or…?”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze, eyes gleaming with mischief despite the spent, satisfied haze in them. “What, you want round two in here, flyboy?”

His grin turned downright wolfish. “Tempting.” He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours again, slow, savoring. “But I think I’d rather take my time when we don’t have half our friends waiting outside, ears pressed to the door.”

You sighed dramatically. “So considerate.”

He gave your thigh a playful squeeze before shifting beneath you, sighing. “Alright, pipsqueak, you ready to face the wolves?”

You let out a groan, already dreading the inevitable teasing, but gave a nod as you took your panties from his outstretched arm.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The moment you and Caleb stepped out of the closet, the common area of the academy dorm erupted.

A chorus of whistles, cheers, and over-the-top applause filled the air, drowning out the hum of music still playing in the background. Drinks sloshed over the rims of glasses as your so-called friends—traitorous and utterly entertained—howled with laughter at what they had just witnessed. Well, heard, really.

Patrick was the first to greet you, grinning like he had just won the jackpot. “Damn, Wings, that was some first-class fucking in there,” he teased, elbowing Caleb hard in the ribs. “The whole common room heard you two trying to ‘navigate the landing.’”

Your stomach dropped, face burning instantly. “Oh my god—”

Caleb, the menace, didn’t even flinch. He just chuckled, rolling his shoulders back as if he hadn’t just been thoroughly railing you in a closet like some reckless cadet. His lavender eyes gleamed with mischief. “What can I say? I’m a hands-on kind of pilot.”

The crowd groaned at his shameless delivery, but it only made him smirk wider.

“You weren’t even trying to be quiet,” another voice—Oliver—piped up from the couch, sprawled out like he owned the place. “I mean, come on. We gave you seven minutes, and you give us the entire x-rated flick?”

“I should’ve recorded it,” Thomas added, sighing. “A missed opportunity for paypack.”

You smacked your hands over your face, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. Caleb, however, was still far too relaxed, one hand casually resting on his hip while the other brushed against your lower back, fingers barely grazing your skin—a quiet, private reminder that he was still right there.

Across the room, Tara, ever the voice of reason, simply shook her head as she swirled her drink. “You two have been dancing around each other for years. You do realize that, right?”

Silence fell over the group.

Everyone’s eyes snapped toward you and Caleb.

The air between you thickened, the weight of the moment pressing down. Caleb’s smirk hadn’t faded, but his expression had shifted slightly—softer now, more deliberate. His fingers at your back pressed just a little firmer as he tilted his head, stormy eyes watching you with quiet amusement.

“Well?” he mused, voice low, teasing. “Think we should make it official, pipsqueak?”

Your stomach flipped.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to tell everyone that this wasn’t just some heat-of-the-moment game, that Caleb wasn’t just some reckless decision you’d regret in the morning. But before you could speak, Patrick suddenly gasped, dramatic as ever.

“WAIT.” He turned toward the others, his face lighting up. “That means I won the bet!”

A collective groan rose from the group as he threw his hands in the air triumphantly.

“Oh, fuck off, Patrick,” Oliver grumbled.

Thomas threw actual money at him. “I hate you.”

Tara just sighed. “I should’ve known.”

Patrick turned back toward you and Caleb, grinning like the troublemaker he was. “So, for real—are you dating now, or am I just gonna have to keep orchestrating ridiculous excuses for you two to make out in small spaces?”

Caleb chuckled, shifting closer, his voice warm and teasing. “You got a problem with that, pipsqueak?” His fingers squeezed gently at your waist, daring. “Because I was kinda hoping this wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

Your breath hitched, heat curling in your chest.

This man.

This reckless, insufferable, wonderful man.

You exhaled, finally leaning into his hold, letting yourself smirk up at him. “Well,” you murmured, eyes gleaming, “if I say no, you do have a way of convincing me.”

The room erupted again—cheers, jeers, and exaggerated groans—but none of it mattered.

Because in that moment, with Caleb’s arm wrapped around you and that knowing, all-consuming look in his eyes, you knew.

Life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

#love and deepspace #lnds smut #lnds #lads smut #lads caleb #lads fluff #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #xia yizhou #lads #moongirlcleo

837 notes · View notes

toasterdrake · 10 months ago

Text

nervous to share this bc i don't know the jwcc fandom's feelings on ocs but um. yeah im incapable of keeping my insanity to myself so this is robin

they meet the camp fam on the first visit to main street, making a dramatic entrance by beating off rexy with a big stick and yelling a lot :-) (probably idk. subject to change)

she's a junior motorsports racer, at Jurassic World to test/display the gyrospheres for racing (untapped potential, guys) but gets caught in a dino stampede upon escape/shutdown so she misses the evac.

big music girlie also but she's reserved abt it for reasons that would make this post too long. oh yeah they're half italian also. hence the. italian

have a lot more to figure out about her but ough. the brain. wworms.. .

#seven is a crowd au #hyping myself up to post this instead of leaving it to rot in my drafts bc whose permission am i waiting for???#jwcc oc #jwcc #camp cretaceous #my art #oc intro post #jwcc robin #robin marchetti #surprisingly for me her name doesnt ave any deep meaning #i was just like hey baby sites whas smth vaguely gn. no3 robin? epic les go. andd smth italian #AAA OK IM POSTING #why am i so shy abt this im usually xtra chill bt oc posting 😭😭

52 notes · View notes

holybibly · 1 year ago

Text

ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt.

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth.

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man.

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy.

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin. "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder.

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips.

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know. You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself.

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock.

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them.

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says. You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out. Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you. It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone.

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

5K notes · View notes

prkhaven · 7 months ago

Text

FORBIDDEN EYES -s.jy-

Dragged out to a party, you wanted nothing more than to leave, playing seven minutes in heaven leads you being crammed in a closet with the very Jake Sim.

pairing— popular!jake x quiet fem!reader

genre: smut minors do not interact, seven minutes in heaven au, p without plot

wc: 3k

warnings: party setting, alcohol consumption, profanity, reader’s friend sucks, kissing, lowkey down bad jake

smut warnings: unprotect sex (uh oh), p in v, quickie, slight dirty talk, creampie, hand over mouth, usage of nickname (hun)

You stood off to the side, away from the sea of sweaty people grinding their bodies together as music filled the stuffy house leaving no room for your own thoughts.

Through the crowds of people, you tried to look for any of your friends who brought you out here in the first place only you leave you behind in a flash.

You grumbled not believing you allowed yourself to be dragged out this when you told them numerous times you didn’t want to come.

“Looking for someone?” You turned to the accented voice and that’s when you saw Jake, displaying his infamous sweet smile

Out of 10 randomly chosen people, those 10 people will know exactly who Jake is. Captain of the soccer team, surprisingly very intelligent despite his carefree attitude, and most of his small friend group that made a name for themselves.

You knew who Jake simply was and it was the exact opposite of you. You didn’t respond to his question as you continued to look for your friends.

The questioning gaze he shot you cut through you like a knife but you didn’t dare face him, unaware of just how strong his undeniable power could be over you if you looked at him.

“I can help you find whoever you’re looking for” He tried to insinuate the conversation again but you only shook your head walked off, not wanting to stay any longer

Jake rapidly blink at the now empty space in front of him before letting out a scoff as his eyes trailed over you with a slight smirk before going after you. “Hey!” You somehow managed to pick up the same voice you were trying to get away from through the loud noises of the party

When you thought, you had escaped him, you were turned around and met with Jake’s body as he pulled you towards him and held a protective arm over you. You heard a loud thud from behind and you peered over your shoulders to see someone crashed into a wave of people causing them to fall down like dominos.

Your eyes widen as you and Jake’s eyes met as he gave you a tight smile and gave a squeeze to your shoulder before letting his arm fall to his side to let you go.

You shivered at the sudden coldness from when his arm unwrapped itself from around you and you stopped yourself from thinking about that anymore.

“Good thing I was able to catch up to you before you became one of those people” He puckered his plump lips to the people who slipped trying to get back on their feet

He expected to get sine type of reaction out of you from his comment, literally anything would have satisfied him but you only stared at him with an unreadable expression and it was driving him insane.

Just because you were quiet didn’t mean you weren’t known about, especially to Jake. He’s seen you walking around campus multiple times and his eyes always followed you until you were out of his sight as he deemed you, pretty mysterious girl, that he tried numerous times to talk to but always failed in the end.

“Hun! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” One of your friends suddenly appeared after not seeing her the moment you entered the party, as she wrapped her arm around your arm but she piqued seeing Jake

“Jakey? What’s your deal with my friend?” Your friend narrowed her eyes to him as he weakly raised his hands up to show his innocence

“Just watching out for her” His gaze shifted onto you before walking away from the two of you without another word

Your friend dusted you to remove Jake’s presence off of you, “Hun you have to be careful of guys like Jake. He’s always up to no good” Your friend pouted, shaking her head, “I’m speaking from experience”

But instead of paying attention to your friend’s rambles, you zoned out as you unconsciously searched through the numerous crowd of faces until you found Jake’s piercing gaze already on you.

A smirk plastered on his face as he gave a wave towards you, as an acknowledgement, to let you know that just how you looked from him in the crowd, he always looked for you too.

You frowned when you caught his face but your eyes never left his once.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The night was still young according to your friends’ words as they squealed dragging you with them to a separate room in the house away from the party.

Right when you entered the room, it was silent and peaceful. The room blocked out the unbearable noise of the party and you hummed in happiness until your eyes settled upon the circle formed in the middle of the room, your eyes immediately soloing out Jake who let out a grin seeing you.

“You finally made it” Heeseung, another one a part of Jake’s infamous friend group spoke as he motioned for you and your friends to sit down with them

You saw how Jake shot his eyes towards the empty space next to him to you but it was filled by the very friend who warned you to stay away from Jake. “Jakey!” Her voice squealed as she sat uncomfortably close to him

Jake’s eyes darted from you to your friend but you turned your heel to sit across from him in between his other two closest friends, Jay and Sunghoon.

They gave a courtesy greeting as you sat down which you quietly returned, already hating the position you were in.

“Alright! Let’s get this party actually started!” Heeseung called out as he brought out an empty bottle and placed in between the circle

“Are you in middle school Heeseung? What is this?” Sunghoon sharply commented and Heeseung scoffed

“Relax it’s either do the dare or take a shot” Heeseung explained as he brought out a bottle of pure vodka next to hi

With the sudden view of the alcohol, it rose out cheers and claps of joy as Heeseung quickly spun the empty bottle anticipating who would be the first one to be picked.

Your eyes watched the spinning bottle, feeling your heart racing as the bottle spun and spun before slowly coming to a stop right in front of you. Your friend next to Jake gasped seeing you being the first one to be chosen for it.

“What’s it going to be… Dare? Or shot?” Heeseung asked as his hands held the vodka bottle and you gulped, eyeing the bottle

No response came out of you as you still looked to the bottle which made Heeseung raise an eyebrow in amusement, “Choosing to take a shot on the first round. Interesting” He chuckled as he poured you your shot and handed it over to you

You grabbed the shot as you looked ahead of you, seeing Jake’s worried expression but you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable burn in your throat but when you were going to bring it to your lips, a hand suddenly grabbed the shot from you.

You looked to see Jake’s friend, Jay, down the shot in your honor, hissing at the burn. “Aw come on Jay, it was for her!” Your friend grumpily told but he didn’t pay any mind to her and handed the shot back to Heeseung

“Alright Jay’s stepping in as the gentleman he is” Sunghoon clapped his hands loudly at his friend who gave a shove to him behind your back to shut him up

Heeseung looked to you before telling you to spin the bottle for the next round. You leaned forward and weakly spun the bottle before going back to your spot.

As the bottle spun, you leaned your body to Jay who instantly noticed and brought his head towards you, “Thank you for taking the shot for me” You quietly spoke and Jay kindly smiled and waved it off as nothing

“You didn’t seem to want to take the shot or the dare so I decided to step in” Jay returned your soft tone with his own

You gave a small smile and a soft nod of your head before straightening out your posture, seeing the bottle im the corner of your eye slowing down in your opposite direction.

Jake’s fisted his knee as he looked between you and Jay, not able to hear the short shared words. How was it possible that Jay received more attention than he ever could only ever imagine getting in the span of not even 30 minutes in meeting you.

“What’s it going to be Jake? Dare or shot?”

The mention of his name brought him back from looking at you who finally leaned away from Jay and straightened out your body to look at him as the bottle pointed towards him.

“What?” Jake’s confused response as he looked around caused a light ripple of chuckles and Heeseung pointed to the bottle that pointed to him

“Dare or shot?” He was asked the question once again and he snuck a glance to you, who didn’t look away from him once

“Dare” Oo’s filled the room and Sunghoon quickly jumped in, wanting to give his best friend the dare

“I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with someone in this room” Jake felt his heart drop as he stared at his friend, bewildered at the dare given

Sunghoon only smirked before sneaking a glance towards you before leaning back on his hands staring to Jake. “Your choice though”

Hearing the offer of him being allowed to choose who to do seven minutes in heaven made his mind wander to you, the only person clouding him.

Your friend on the other hand was oblivious and batted her eyelashes, seeing Jake get up from his spot as she expected him to offer a hand to join him but her jaw fell slack seeing him walk over to you and offer his hand to you instead.

You looked to Jake’s hand before looking up to his gaze that only focused on you. “Will you do seven minutes in heaven with me?” Jake asked and you hesitantly nibbled on your lip

There was a moment of silence, anticipation filling the air of what your response was going to be to his offer and gasped filled the room when you softly clasped your hands with his as he helped you to your feet then guided you to the closet in the room.

The moment the closet door closed, the timer started. Jake underestimated just how small the closet was as there was barely enough space for the two of you to move freely.

The only source of light was the one shinning from underneath the crack of the closet door. But Jake somehow was able to see your face clearly, as the front of your body was against his.

Jake nervously gulped feeling your tits pressing against him and you slightly moved in the crammed closet and he closed his eyes silently, asking for forgiveness for the sinful thoughts in his head. “Jake?” Your soft voice calling out his name, shot fire throughout his body and burned him

He weakly hummed not trusting himself to speak. “How come you asked me to do this with you?” Your question made him open his eyes to face you

As his eyes found yours in the dark, he could still feel the intensity of the moment and it turn his mind into mush as he softly grasped your cheeks with his hand and brought his face closer to yours, his lips hovering over you. “Push me away if you don’t want this” He murmured and he expected you to shove him away but little did he know, you didn’t want this to stop

Your lips were quick to meet with his and he let out a shocked noise before having his eyes close, melting into the kiss. Everything faded to dust and it was only you and Jake in the entire world.

You wrapped your arm around his head to bruise your lips even tighter together causing Jake to wrap his arms around to hold you close.

This was all he ever wanted to experience and he knew he couldn’t possibly let this go, he was going to make sure he super glue himself to you. “Jakey” You breathlessly let out as he leaned away from your mouth and peppered your jaw and neck with his kisses

“Keep saying my name like that” He murmured in your neck as your hands found their way to the fluff of hair

“Jakey. Jakey” You repeated and Jake’s hold on you tightened as he could feel his mind slipping off hearing your siren voice chanting his name

Such desperation and need filled your bodies as Jake slotted his leg in between you and grazing your clothed core making you let out a loud gasp, gripping his hair as he continued to nibble on your skin.

You slowly rubbed yourself on his offered leg, feeling your panties stick even more to you from the friction and you were panting loudly as you felt the delicious rub against your covered self.

Jake felt your rubbing self on him and smirked as whispered loud enough for you to hear, “Rubbing yourself on me with such desperation makes me think you want me to take you right here, right now”

You weakly nodded your head, mind reeling in the minimum pleasure you were feeling, “Yes, take me right here Jakey. P-please” Your broken out voice went straight to his aching cock and he couldn’t believe that you were asking, begging, for him

This was only supposed to be a simple round of seven minutes in heaven but instead it was going to go down in history in his books as the best seven minutes in heaven to ever exist.

He planted a kiss on the tip of your nose with a deep chuckle, “Anything you wish for hun” The usage of the nickname your friend uses for you made you shudder as it lolled off his tongue with such ease

Jake was quick to bring down his pants just enough for his cock to spring out as you turned to have your back towards him and dropped your panties and pants all in one shot, not wanting to waste the limited time you had left.

“Fuck” He gasped, even under the little to no lighting in the crammed closet, your pussy still glistened “The prettiest ever” Jake rubbed your ass in admiration as it pressed firmly against him

“Jakey please” You whined and Jake shushed you quickly as his chest hit your back as he brought his lips to your ear

“Gotta be quiet hun unless you want everyone out there to know I’m splitting you open with my cock” His hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you shivered at the thought of possibly being caught

You whined loudly and that caused Jake to cover your mouth with his hand as the other one helped eased his cock into your gaping hole. You gasped loudly in his hand from the intrusion, gripping his wrist harshly.

“Sucking me so good. Promise I’ll properly take care of you but right now we’re in a bit of a rush” Jake blabbed feeling the clench of you as you gripped him like no tomorrow

“F-fuck” Jake breathlessly let out only sinking halfway in before giving shallow thrust to help bottom him out later instead of right now, not wanting to be interrupted

You moaned in Jake’s hand as his hips met with your ass from behind. The stretch from his cock made you fall apart and you let your obscene noises fall out and onto his hand that still covered your mouth. “D-didn’t know you could be so fucking loud” Jake groaned as he soon found a fast pace that allowed you both to feel such heights of pleasures in a short amount of time

“Jakey!” Your muffled cries of his name only made him snap his hips harder into you, trying to chase the high for you to come together

His freehand rubbed your clit in fast circular motions causing you to claw his bracelet on his wrist in desperation.

“Come for me, come for me” The words against your ear made your clamp down tightly as you creamed his cock with your juices

His frantic thrust only became messier until he finally bottomed out inside of you as his warm seed filled your insides. He let out gruntled sigh as he emptied himself.

Jake let go of your mouth and held your body in his arm as he noticed your knees bucking from the wave of release.

He finally heard your soft whimpers and he hated how he had to make sure you stayed quiet instead of being able to properly hear your beautiful noises.

Jake soothed the side of your hips to help you relax as he kept his cock buried deep inside you not wanting to leave the warmth you provided for him.

He gulped trying to regain his breath, panting heavily as he could feel the slight twitching of his cock as you still remained your grip on him. The arm that didn’t hold your body up rested against the wall to hold himself up.

He could stay buried in your warm hole forever but the screeching of the closet door opening and the aggravating voice of Park Sunghoon filled his ears, “Time’s up-”

Jake quickly reached behind his back to the handle of the opening closet door and slammed it shut before anyone could see what happened inside the closet.

He didn’t need anyone else seeing you like this, it was something for his eyes only from now on.

You peered over your shoulder in fear but Jake gave you a reassuring smile as he continued to hold the door shut with his hand, “Don’t worry” He gave a feathering kiss to your cheek before poking your side making your squeal and jolt causing a slight friction in between your jointed selves.

He chuckled softly at the glare you sent him as he could feel his heart swelling because of you, “Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to take you out on a date”

——

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen fics #jake sim #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen jake #jake smut #jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #kpop smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshot #enhypen

1K notes · View notes

starmapz · 8 months ago

Text

husband!sukuna modern/non-curse au sfw & nsfw headcanons. nsfw below the cut.

❦ cw ; mdni. 18+ only. f!reader. fluff. smut. size kink. oral (m! and f! receiving). manhandling. choking. bondage. breeding kink. degradation. fingering. rough sex. based loosely on my biker ryomen sukuna x biker female reader oneshot but can be read separately.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

husband!sukuna who always sports a frown and disinterested look until his eyes are on you. his friends insist you need to be around at all times to make him more tolerable.

husband!sukuna who doesn’t hesitate to knock someone out for looking at you the wrong way. he’s a storm of anger and violence until a touch on his arm from you grounds him. it doesn’t change the fact that he would still knock someone out in a heartbeat, but he mellows out at your assuring words and candied tone.

husband!sukuna who’s scary enough to part crowds and have people avoid him, but he lets you paint his nails (black only), and on rare occasions he’ll let you put eyeliner on him. he doesn’t mind as much when you insist it’s hot.

husband!sukuna who shoves your face away or flicks your forehead when you ask him stupid questions. you don’t need to know if he would still love you if you were a worm and he’d much rather hear your giggle when he playfully shoves you anyway. and for the record, he would, and he would keep you in a little dirt tank.

husband!sukuna who’s extra careful when he drives his motorcycle with you clinging to him. he doesn’t dare weave through traffic like he regularly would despite the fact that he’s confident in his driving ability.

husband!sukuna who tries to introduce you to video games he likes so that you can play them together. you end up enjoying animal crossing and stardew valley the most and although he makes a scene out of playing them with you, he secretly loves holding you on his lap while you catch fish and tell him to plant turnips.

husband!sukuna who’s enamored when you suggest getting your wedding rings tattooed on. you suggest a thick band to match his other tattoos and he immediately gets heart eyes at the thought. you? matching his tattoos? that’s about as hot as it gets.

husband!sukuna who always has a hand on your hips or waist. it doesn’t matter where you are, one hand, whether subconsciously or not, is always on your hips. his thumb will rub small circles into the skin beneath your shirt and most of the time he doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.

husband!sukuna who loves the size difference between you both. he’s an absolute monster of a man at almost seven feet tall with the muscles to match and he adores his smaller wife. he especially loves that you don’t mind him manhandling you and he’ll use that to his advantage constantly.

husband!sukuna who listens to everything you have to say far more intently than he leads on. even if he gives off the impression he isn’t paying attention, every word is burned into his mind in case the same topic of conversation comes up again.

husband!sukuna who has a secret stash of every little thing you’ve pointed out in store windows that he’s gone back and bought later. he saves each one for the next occasion, always surprising you with something you mentioned liking a year ago. if you have a bad day, he’ll surprise you with a gift just to see you smile.

husband!sukuna who has only ever said he loves you out loud twice. once when you first said it to him, and once at your wedding. the words just aren’t in his vocabulary, but he goes above and beyond with his actions to show you just how much he does love you. he knows you know every time he insists on carrying you to bed, holding you tightly to his warm body and never letting go no matter how much you complain about overheating.

husband!sukuna who grins at the sight of his leather jacket draped over your shoulders like a dress when you tell him you’re cold. he thinks it’s the cutest sight on earth, but more than anything he wants to see his jacket on you with nothing underneath so he can slide it off your bare shoulders.

husband!sukuna who loves to hold your chin and feel your saliva drip down his fingers with his cock filling your mouth. he loves the way you look up at him like his perfectly obedient princess.

husband!sukuna who can’t get enough of your strangled moans with his fingers carefully compressing your neck. he did research into how to properly choke you to make sure he doesn’t hurt his sweet wife.

husband!sukuna who loves to watch his cum dripping from your folds, using his fingers to stuff you full. he can’t get enough of the sight of you sucking on his fingers afterwards with a lustful look that has him instantly ready for another round.

husband!sukuna who becomes very chatty during sex, spewing the dirtiest degrading words you’ve ever heard, only to flip on a dime when you’re both blissed out of your minds. his tone will change from a low growl to a sultry hum as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

husband!sukuna who spouts the nastiest things in your ear just to see the way you fluster beneath him, unable to hide with him in such close proximity.

husband!sukuna who leaves purpled marks across your entire body, loving the way they paint your skin, but most of all he loves to bite. he just can’t help himself from softly biting the plump skin of your ass or digging his teeth into your shoulder to leave behind a mark.

husband!sukuna who knows his tongue piercing affects you in ways you won’t admit. he loves to run it over your nipple or through your slick entrance just to see the way you squirm and your toes curl at the delightful contrast of cool metal to his warm tongue.

husband!sukuna who loves to hold your hands over your head while he fucks you relentlessly. he loves the look of his darling wife restrained at his mercy with nothing but pleasure swirling in your eyes.

husband!sukuna who feels as though his skin is on fire when you suggest that he can, in fact, tie you up. he does surprisingly extensive research to make sure he doesn’t hurt you and gets the most high-end red ropes he can. the sight of your wrists bound to the headboard sends him into a frenzy as he worships every part of your body.

husband!sukuna who will live between your thighs if you ask him. he loves to please you and watch your jaw slack with pleasure, he loves the way your eyes roll back, and he loves your moans and whimpers. his favorite sound on earth is when you moan his name.

husband!sukuna who loves the way your hips buck and jolt when his fingers find your g-spot. holding you down and feeling the way your legs tremble and your body melts into him when you reach your climax is like a drug to him.

husband!sukuna who’s the king of aftercare. he knows he’s rough on your body and although he knows you love it and he established a safe word, he’ll pamper you for as long as you need afterwards. he knows exactly how you like your baths and he’ll get in behind you and clean you while he sensually kisses your nape.

husband!sukuna who drapes you over him like a blanket and loves the way your curves seem to conform to the toned musculature of his body. He won’t let you go for a second even while he sleeps either, because he can’t bear to be apart from you and he loves his wife more than life itself.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; can't stop thinking about husband!sukuna tbh, i just love him sm.

3K notes · View notes

sillymommy6969 · 1 month ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ YES, SUNSHINE ᝰ! M.S.

trying to be subtle and secret with megan!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝑦𝑡 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜. ❫ ｡ megan skiendiel x f!r 𖥔 fluff ── disclaimers: katseye 7th member au, megan being an idiot in love, pining, mad crushing (read in dark mode!) / pt. one , three / ℭatalogue

MEGAN IS A SIMP FOR Y/N AND THE CROWD IS... THEIR LOVE CHILDREN? (ANOTHER MEGN/N VIDEO <3)

17.2k likes | 288k views | 19th Feb, 2025

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip one: [ YT VIDEO ] Katseye Sleepover (08:43)

“No, I want to bunk with Lara, ‘cuz Manon’s gonna kick me if we sleep together!” Daniela protested, circling her arms around Lara’s as she used the younger’s body to shield any playful hits from the Ghanaian woman. “You wake up like a hurricane hit you every morning, I bruise like a peach!”

“Baby, no, I shared a bed with Manon over Christmas, it wasn’t even that bad!” you defended the eldest, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulder as she hummed.

“See? Even y/n disagrees with you, you’re just being a hater.”

“I’m not being a hater! I share a room with you at home, it’s actually scary how much you move around at night.” Daniela argued, “If y/n doesn’t mind, maybe you guys should bunk.”

You shook your head, “Oh, absolutely not. Manon snores!”

“What! You were just defending me, why are you turning into my biggest opp for no reason!” Manon pried herself from your side, pouting. To the side, Yoonchae just watched with a hesitant expression as Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose. Lara just laughed at the scene unfolding, Daniela still hanging off her arm as Megan stared at you bickering with Manon from behind you. Her eyes never tore away from your frame.

[ that is one look of love right there if i’ve ever seen one ]

“I’m coupled up with my fine shyt here,” you reached for Megan, who immediately walked into your open arms as you wrapped them around her neck. The redhead flashed Manon a cheeky smile, “Sorry, Manz, that’s my huzz.”

“The brainrot level spiked when you two touched,” Lara commented, “I feel myself getting dumber when you two get together and join forces.”

“Hey!” you snapped, shushing her, “I don’t want to hear it.”

You grinned at Megan, who gave you a shy smile. The two of you were the most chronically online duo amongst the seven of you. Megan was loud when you weren’t there, spewing out nonsense and internet references which confused some of the members, but got oddly quiet when you weren’t around. The eyekons loved to tease her on Weverse about her (not so) obvious crush on you, but you made sure you were updated on what was the most recent brainrot just so Megan would be comfortable and more eased up around you.

“Hey, Megan snores too, but whatever.” Lara held her hands up in defence, “You lay in the bed you make, y/n.”

“Whatever for my Meggerz,” you said, wrapping both your arms around Megan’s neck. She let out a nervous giggle, her pale cheeks flushing with colour.

[ y/n baby it hurts, take it out--please…! ]

“Look, Megan’s matching Lara’s hair!” Daniela teased.

Megan’s hands shot up to cup her cheeks, hiding her increasingly red face behind her fingers as you chuckled at the others’ teasing. You past her head as they laughed, “Aww, Meggerz, you look like a little kid--Guys ain’t she adorable?”

“Stop, you’re gonna make her head explode!” Manon cackled, “Look, Megan’s getting even redder. Aww!”

Even Yoonchae seemed to enjoy teasing the poor Chinese woman, and under your arm, she could never seem to shake the colour from her pale cheeks.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip two: [ LIVE ] Katseye’s First Birthday (38:07)

Though the foci of the video darted back and forth between the burning Katseye trivia and inside jokes cracked amongst you and the chat, a lot of fans watching the live after seemed to notice the lingering tension between you and Megan.

Something about the way she seemed to be wordlessly admiring you as you bantered with Daniela about some fact about Lara. Her eyes lax and fixed on you, a sheepish smile ghosted her lips, despite her usual “laugh and lock in” habit.

user01 can we talk about the heart eyes from megan rn

user02 she’s so bad at being nonchalant i can’t

user03 aww poor baby’s just tryna admire her girl in peace

user04 genuinely haven’t seen this since stairwell larry

When it was turn for the members to answer questions about you, you leant back into your seat on the couch between Megan and Lara. You waited for Yoonchae to read aloud the rules for the nth time, your arm behind Megan, who sat up in preparation for the trivia about you.

“This was the site of y/n’s first kiss--!”

“Outside english in 7th grade!” Megan yelled, her hand held high and her finger up. Manon groaned, flailing her body back in defeat as Lara held a palm up to Megan’s face. Daniela scoffed, and Sophia raised an eyebrow at the way the Chinese member seemed to be disrespecting the point of the game for the who knows how many time in a row.

“Let the poor girl finish!” Daniela knocked into her knee.

“She didn’t even yell her name, Megan should be disqualified for that.” Manon argued, crossing her arms. Behind the redhead, you rubbed the eldest’s shoulder in comfort as she pouted. “This game isn’t fair, I haven’t gotten to answer yet.”

[ manz was PRESSED that day bro let my girl breathe ]

“How do you even know that? You were across the world when y/n was in 7th grade.” Lara questioned, only earning a quick shrug from her roommate.

“I remember it was some dumb boy called Carson too.”

user05 THAT FACE MEGAN IS JEALOUS LMAO

user06 the ick megan just got from saying “boy”

user07 they know everything about eo atp i swear to god

user08 omg just kiss alr im getting edged bro

“You guys gotta give it to Megz,” you nodded, “She’s not playing them game right, but she’s not wrong.”

“I want it on the record this game is rigged,” Daniela whined.

“Overruled,” Yoonchae replied simply, earning some disapproving grunts and groans from the older members. She nodded towards you, returning the smile you were flashing her. “If y/n says Megan’s right, she gets the point. But, for the sake of the game, please say your name first please next time.”

The ginger nodded, saluting. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, but I need to hear about this first kiss story, why is this the first time I’m hearing about a Carson from english class?”

Sophia’s statement seemed to stir some other related questions from the girls, which lead to you trying to calm their suspicions through a brief storytime. “It’s nothing crazy, I was in 7th grade with my 7th grade boyfriend and outside of english class, he kissed me. It was really bad, I mean, it was my very first one, so I didn’t know what to do, I just kinda let him slobber all over me and called it a day.”

The girls grimaced and groaned. “Sounds about right.”

“Okay, but how does Megan know all ‘at?” Lara asked.

The ginger shrugged, a prideful smile on her face. “I just know my y/n lore. She’s my roman empire, I think about her a lot.”

[ what…? like why is nobody reacting to her saying this rn?? ]

user09 oh. my. gays.

user10 my favourite parents thinking about each other <3

user11 EVERYBODY STAY CALM THIS IS NOT A DRILL

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip three: [ iHEART RADIO ] Katseye’s feat. (9:11)

“y/n and sophia have been seen together a lot lately,” the lady at the head of the table stated, earning some polite chuckles from the two of you. You glanced over at the Filipina, sharing a knowing look as you braced yourself for the fan service.

“The fans have noted your undeniable chemistry in your new music video, and are wondering how the both of you stay in ‘touch’ to maintain such a good relationship,” she chuckled.

You hummed, “Yeah, Sophia is one of my best friends.”

Sophia agreed, “y/n and I spend a lot of time together on our days off, and we share a lot of the same interests, so it’s easy for us to do a lot of things together.”

“Yes, but what’s the secret behind n/nfiz? You’re so close!”

[ she was tryna reach so hard… i feel bad for the girls ]

As the two of you drove that question in whatever direction you thought your PR team would appreciate, fans noted the clips of Megan glaring daggers at Sophia as she ranted on about your shared love for musical movies.

[ goddamn if looks could kill sophia would be dead asf ]

“Have you seen the tiktok edits made of you two?”

Manon and Daniela began bursting in hysteria, knocking back and forth into each other as you and Sophia chuckled.

“The edits! Oh my God, the edits are the only things we send in our group chat,” Daniela explained, “There’s so many insanely good ones out there, but my favourite had to be the one the fans clipped of Sophia and y/n biting into the same piece of cake together for our first anniversary and Sophia was looking up at y/n, wiping her chin with her thumb after.”

You knew the exact clip Daniela was talking about.

It was during a quick Weverse live the seven of you had to do, management had gotten you a cake, and as co-parents and leaders of the group, the two of you were invited to take the first bite. Holding it together, the two of you bit into opposite ends of the cake, and as your eyes squeezed shut to brace for the frosting smearing across your scrunched nose, Sophia’s big, concentrated ones were on you. Her jaw moved as she followed you, taking in a mouthful of cake. When the two of you pulled back, she immediately raised a hand to brush the white frosting from your features, caring for you before herself.

It was an acid trip on eyekonville that night.

[ the amount of ungodly edits i’ve saved to that intro clip… ]

“Oh, yeah, I had my own friends from home in the Philippines send me those tiktok’s and ask me if I had a girlfriend. I had to explain so many times that week that y/n are just really good friends.” Sophia chuckled, leaning over to loop an arm over your shoulder. “We do love the edits though.”

You nodded along, “Mhm, Sophia and I love teasing each other about it. There’s some really talented eyekons out there.”

Yoonchae nudged Megan in the back of the camera capture you and Sophia’s friendly encounters. The redhead realized the expression etched across her face, immediately resolving into her poker face. It was obvious she was displeased with the topic, Manon--being the instigator she was--pointed it out.

“Remember when Megan wouldn’t speak to y/n for a week.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cuz y/n ‘got cake on her shirt’,” Lara added in air quotes, “But we all tease her ‘cause she was just grumpy about her best friend not paying her any attention.”

[ i just know lara has seen some megan jealous episodes ]

“Yeah, somebody was hella jealous,” Daniela sighed. “Hella.”

“I was not ‘hella jealous’!” Megan whined, “I let y/n wear my hoodie that day and she got cake all over it ‘cause she was more focused on Sophia than keeping it clean.”

“See? Hella jealous.” Manon reinforced. “Just admit it, Megan.”

“Yeah, Meggerz, I’m sorry I got your hoodie all dirty,” you pouted, glancing at her with big glossy eyes. You leant over, fixing the strap of her top. “I made sure it’s clean for you.”

[ UNTIL HER STRAP BREAKS UNDER ME ]

You watched her face flush with a smirk. It was so easy, flustering Megan, especially when it came to you. You knew she was never beating the simp allegations.

“Oh, she’s getting red!” the host teased, “Need a minute?”

Megan shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she avoided your eyes. The girls all cooed and teased, per usual, at the redhead’s reaction to your flirtation.

“Eyekons, for Megan’s sake, maybe start editing more megn/n instead of me and y/n.” Sophia said into the mic, which just flustered the redhead more at the thought.

[ yes, ma’am--the way megn/n edits started flooding tiktok ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip four: [ MV BTS ] Making of Touch (07:14)

Filming your dual part with Lara for the pre-chorus, you sat on the windowsill of the bedroom set. In a flimsy top and some sheer boy shorts, you were leaving little to the imagination, not aided by the position the director instructed you to be in. You and Lara sat, ready, as the crew prepared for the shooting.

In another room, Megan stood before a wall of screens. Her arms crossed and her hair clipped, she watched the two of you adjust yourselves and stay professional.

The video editor for Katseye added a little twinkle beside Megan’s eye as the camera trained on her look of adoration, before it panned up to the screen she was focused on; the angle fixed on you, sitting by the window, your hair done and your features sharp, contrary to the usually, softer edge you carried in your expressions. You and Lara complimented each other very well when it came to the ‘hunter gaze’.

[ bro is so enchanted she forgot she needs to talk to us ]

“Doesn’t y/n look good in that fit?” she asked, and the camera panned back to her, still not looking away from you onscreen. “Her pjs at home are much nicer than this though.”

[ yeah cuz ya’ll share a pj shirt eyekonville caught you in 4k ]

“She usually wears this Aaliyah graphic shirt she cut to bed. You’ll never see her out of that shirt at home,” Megan grinned, “Not that I’m complaining, I got her the shirt.”

[ yeah we know you down bad asf like we get it… ]

As the music sounded, the two of you moved on camera. You mouthed the lyrics into the camera after Lara’s line, before turning to look up and out of the window. The camera in the room still focused on Megan catches the girl smiling to herself when your voice singing your part of the song could be heard muffled in the background.

[ she only smiled when y/n’s part came on i can’t ]

“Oh my God, this is fire as hell. I’m not tryna glaze them or anything, but that was such a good shot.” Megan giggled.

The Katseye video editor wrote the subtitles with a little bit of teasing at the redhead’s beyond obvious admiration for her leader. “MEGAN: (LOVINGLY) Doesn’t y/n look good--?”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip five: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Lara’s Karaoke

Lara sat in a chair in the front as some of the other girls did things for their schedules off camera. She was engaging with fans and singing songs the chat recommended. Eventually, you joined her, along with Manon, livening up the mood.

“Nah, nah, nah, the rizziest member is me, don’t play.”

Manon rolled her eyes, “Why’re you lying right now, obviously I got that lightskin rizz, bro, you can’t even compete.” She rubbed her hands together, giving the camera a lip bite and a sly wink, before you shoved her in the shoulder with a grimace.

“That was disgusting--Look, Lara is speechless right now at how disgusting that was,” you pointed at the Indian singer.

“She’s not speechless, she’s gagged. I was too rizzy with it.”

user01 n/non gives sibling energy and i’m here for it

user02 i wanna be their friend so bad i just know they’re so fun

user03 yall should have a rizz off and see who’s the rizzler

“Someone said to have a rizz off to see who’s the ultimate rizzler,” Lara spoke into her mic. The two of you shared a look, jokingly squaring up to each other. Lara chuckled, clicking Confident by Justin Bieber in her playlist before Manon and you both started doing stupid white boy shit into the camera.

user04 omg idk where to look i’m gonna pass out

user05 gay ass group

user06 our favorite wlw katz fighting for me rn??

user07 EVERYONE SHUT UP IM HAVING MY Y/N MOMENT

With impeccable timing, Megan strolled over, coming onscreen with a grimace at the two of your antics. Upon catching the expression, a mix of disgust and confusion, on Megan’s face, Lara began laughing hysterically.

Unexpectedly, you grabbed Megan’s hand, yanking her closer to you. You mouthed the lyrics to Confident, before pouring over her shoulder. Instinctively, she turned her head to glance at it, before your fingers gently grabbed her chin, turning her face back to you. You smirked, your lip tugging in between your teeth as the instrumental broke. When you started singing again, Megan’s shoulders were tense and there was an unreadable scrunch in her face. Her cheeks were pink and she couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

At that point, even Manon had stopped her own attempts at winning this rizz fest, but instead joined Lara in teasing Megan with the fans with knowing stares and joking gestures.

When the song was over, you had an arm around Megan’s waist, the other hand running through your hair as you grinned. “Sorry, Meggerz, you just fell victim to me absolutely making Manz eat my dust at a little competition.”

Megan shrugged, trying to play off the colour in her cheeks.

[ oh come on now megan you’re not nonchalant like that ]

user08 the hand placement???? i’m creaming

user09 y/n baby please it’s all over the screen

user10 typing this with one hand it’s a tough life out here

user11 had to put my phone in rice

You chuckled at the comments Lara were reading out, leaning forward to rest your chin on Megan’s shoulder, moving to stand behind the redhead as you wrapped your arms around her casually. You sat beside Lara, pulling her onto your lap.

Megan’s mood seemed to lift, not the monotonous vibe she walked in frame with, but her lips curved into an uncontrollable smile. She turned her head the slightest to just gaze and stare at your features as you spoke out the comments.

user12 straddling y/n’s lap would fix me too megan

user13 MEGAN MEIYOK SKIENDIEL MOVE ITS MY TURN

user14 if not girlfriend why girlfriend shaped

“I think we know who won the ultimate rizzler title.” Lara started clapping, and even Manon nodded in defeat as she cackled. “Let’s give it up for our crowned queen, y/n l/n.”

You moved your hand as a gratuitous bow, Megan still on you.

[ who could blame megan for being down bad? y/n’s the rizz queen right? ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 megan’s so cutie i need my daily dose of ginger to feel happy but now she has black hair again… anyway currently going crazy over my tlou!au katseye idea so expect that to come next. happy reading! xx

#katseye #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel x reader #megan katseye #megan x reader #katseye megan

457 notes · View notes