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written-in-flowers · 2 years ago

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More Than Enough: OT8 X fem!Reader

Pairing: OT8 x Fem!reader

Genre: smut...just loads of smut...hints of fluff sprinkled inside

Word Count: 14k

AU: sugar baby/sugar daddies, contracted dating, polyamorous.

Rating: Explicit, very

Summary: A good movie night turns into something steamier when the members discover you haven't done your laundry yet.

Tags: poly relationship, breast play, nipple play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of it too, gangbang, bukkake (sort of), fondling over clothes and under clothes, group sex, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, sex toys for men and women, blowjobs, handjobs, rough blowjobs/deep throating, slight edging, hella overstimulation, occasional degradation, multiple orgasms, somewhat bisezual sex, ateez!doms, sub!reader, mixed gentle and hard doms, breeding kink, protected sex until the very end so wrap it up because apparently I need to write that idk why it should be obvious but whatever, and lots of aftercare.

Next on Idol Companion

***

You pressed the ‘popcorn’ button on the microwave and hoped it didn’t burn. The popcorn coming out burnt would ruin everything. You spent all day fixing everything to work out: you bought more snacks and drinks, added movies to the watch list, and brought out blankets and pillows for everyone to sit on. The boys told you not to go through so much trouble for a simple movie night, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s hard to get everyone home at the same time. Nights are typically the easiest, so you managed to make it work out.

Waiting on popcorn, you turned to the refrigerator beside you. The members often posted small notes or reminders on the doors so everyone saw them. A few were written by you, but Seonghwa wrote most of them. On the side of the fridge, they’d pinned two calendars. One calendar showed the basic monthly flower and had the members’ overall scheduled days on it. Personal appointments, Wanteez shoots, photoshoots, live streams, and so on took up small boxes throughout the month. The one right underneath it happened to be an Ateez calendar, each month with a different group photo. You’d written down your own appointments or reminders for upcoming events there. You smiled softly when you spotted a post-it note plastered beside it.

‘Reminder: PLEASE GO TO YOUR AGENCY APPOINTMENTS!!! Love you so much, -Seonghwa.’ he’d drawn a small heart next to his name, which made you smile.

Someone posted another note right next to that one.

‘No, seriously. Please go. They’ll think we’re keeping you hostage. Love you lots -Jongho.’ Jongho had drawn two hearts, which also made you smile.

You giggled softly to yourself. They were both right, of course. You’d been missing appointments with the agency because you’d grown to hate them. Every agency meeting included mental and physical examinations. You’d sit down with a therapist to discuss how your relationship with the members is going, if you have any frustrations or complaints you’d like to share, and your overall mental health. Then, you’d leave the therapist for the doctor, who runs a full body check-up on you, sometimes including blood work which you hated because you dislike needles. Your company agent, Sungmi, tells you it is to make sure your body is working to its best ability.

Also, to make sure you’re free of pregnancies, diseases, or bodily traumas from sex.

You shuddered imagining what ‘bodily trauma’ might mean, but you’d heard stories. Your tests always came back clean, so why did you need to go? If you had an issue with the boys, you simply sat them down and told them. They listened to you; they discussed and solved issues with you instead of pushing you onto their manager. Other women in your industry told you they hardly talked to their ‘boyfriends’. Kira, another Companion, said she mainly worked with her group’s manager. You understood those situations called for agency meetings, but you didn’t see the need for yourself. Seeing Seonghwa’s note, you knew he wouldn’t let it go until you went. You might as well schedule it before Sungmi did.

The microwave alarm went off, and you withdrew the piping hot bag. You dumped it into the bowl, and sprayed a bit of butter. Mingi liked lots of butter on his, so you made a separate bowl for him. You knew he’d appreciate the consideration, but it was your job to know these things. As an ‘Idol Companion’, you are supposed to know things your partners like and do them to make them feel better. People who read about your situation online tend to think you’re simply a sex doll for kpop idols, and think they’re able to do it. You often shut down ignorance by telling people what you went through with your training. ‘Training’? Yes, ‘training’.

Because, sex and looks aren't the only part of the position. You told these people they needed to be ✨ interesting ✨. Learning the art of conversation and entertainment are two key ingredients. There are also lessons in psychology, literature, dance, music, art, and history. You said a proper Companion knew how to appeal to all kinds of people, not a singular type. A Companion needed to be charming, charismatic, and intelligent. If a man or woman wanted an idol to like them, they needed to be more than a pretty face. Nowadays, Companions don’t date an entire group like you do, since they find more stability with soloists or dating non-exclusively. People who do date groups usually have a second or third partner to share “the load” with, but that really depends on the company’s budget. Ateez had no such budget when they began, so when KQ approached your agency, they could only select one. Not that you minded. You’d gained enough experience by then to handle all eight idols. Still, it is no easy task, especially with your chaotic boys. You have seen many outsiders try and fail to go through the process because they thought it was all about ‘dating hot Korean idols’. You won’t lie; it is certainly a perk, but there’s more underneath the surface, you’d tell them.

‘You’re not a prostitute. You’re a companion, a friend, a partner.’

Mama Kim’s words rang in your head as you finished Mingi’s bowl, and pulled out a bag of chips. You’d gone out and bought the spicy ones Jonhgo liked, since he’d mentioned craving them yesterday. Little things. It was all about the ‘little things’.

“There you are, beautiful.” His shuffling feet alerted you to his presence and you looked over your shoulder to see Yunho walking into the kitchen. Very tall and broad shouldered, he ran his hand through his black hair and kissed your cheek. He looked over your face and hair, seeing the new style and length. “Gorgeous,” was all he said before pecking your lips. “I haven’t seen you all day,” he said, pecking your lips next and then grabbing a large bowl from the top shelf. “I thought you’d be home around lunch.”

“I ran some errands after my appointment,” you explained, trying to open the bag, “And then I went out to lunch with some friends before going to see my parents. I told them I’d stop by sometime this week, so I took my free day to go.”

“How are they?” he asked, leaning on the island counter. “Is your mom feeling better?”

“Much better,” you answered, struggling to open the chip bag. Your parents both moved closer to you when they retired, so that way you’re not so far from them. “She keeps asking when I’m going to bring all of you over again. I told her we’ve all been too busy, but I can only say that for so long.”

Yunho opened the bag for you with ease, filled the bowl, and looked at the calendar. “We have time off towards the end of the month,” he said. “We can work out a day then. I’d love to see your parents again.”

“We’re seeing YN’s parents?” Wooyoung walked into the room, white shirt hanging from his shoulders and black hair damp from a shower. “When?” He gave you a brief kiss then wrapped his arms around you. “I have to get your mom flowers.” He checked out your new hairstyle, and smiled, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks, and we’ll see them soon,” you said. “I was telling Yunho that she’s feeling better and wants us to visit.”

It took your parents a while to get used to your job; they thought it might be a bit much handling eight men. But, when they saw how happy the boys made you, they stopped questioning you. Honestly, they saw this polyamorous situation of eight boyfriends as a higher likelihood of marriage and pregnancy. Marriage meant financial security, stability, and someone would be looking after you when they’re gone. Pregnancy for them meant grandchildren they could dote over, spoil and brag about to their friends. You told them that you didn’t need a man or children to enjoy life or be happy, to which they said:

“Says the girl who has eight boyfriends.”

“We’ll be having some days off soon,” he said. “We can think of something then.”

Yunho left the kitchen with the chip bowls, leaving you and Wooyoung alone. The youngest moved to grab a popcorn bowl when he hesitated. Your cheeks burned when you realized that he’d felt it. You’d sort of hoped they didn’t notice. With everything you did today, laundry ended up on the bottom of the list. But, they’re your boyfriends and are also men, so you shouldn’t be so surprised.

And, yes, maybe you did hope one or two might notice.

“No panties?” Wooyoung grinned widely, pulling your body closer to his. “Naughty.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you excused. “Someone used up all the detergent and didn’t buy more, and I forgot to buy some when I went out today.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he smiled, unconvinced. “You just so happen to be wearing no panties,” he pressed you to the counter, “On a night when all eight of us are here?”

“It is a coincidence, I promise,” you replied, not protesting when his hands gripped your hips.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I believe you,” he planted more kisses on your lips. “Hm, perhaps we should go see your parents in a month or so. By then, we’ll have some good news to share-”

“-Wooyoung!”

He sealed over your shared laughter with another kiss before someone else walked into the kitchen. “Who are we sharing good news with?” Yeosang arrived next, wearing a hoodie over his shirt and lounge pants.

“YN’s parents want us to come over,” Wooyoung answered, releasing you and going to the fridge nearby to grab drinks for everyone.

“Ah, fun,” Yeosang grinned. “You know I don’t mind going.” Yeosang brought you into his arms next, giving you the gentlest of kisses, before he also paused. Yet, instead of saying anything, he questioned you with a look and then smirked when you bashfully turned away. “Love what you did to your hair,” he said instead, “And cool, I like hanging out with your dad.”

“Yeah, your dad’s a cool guy,” Wooyoung agreed. You smiled at their compliments, “Any idea what movie you want to watch, babe?”

“None at all,” you answered, watching Yeosang leave you to grab cups from the shelf. “I saved a whole bunch of movies earlier today, but I’ll let you guys pick. As long as it’s not another superhero movie; I’m getting so tired of those.”

“I’ll personally make sure it’s not," smiled Yeosang.

You followed the pair out of the kitchen into the living room. It's not by any means large, so the long sectional sofa took up the wall in front of the television. Seonghwa, Mingi, San and Hongjoong already occupied spaces in the room: Mingi took up the long chaise section of the sofa, with Yunho taking over the massage chair at the end. Seonghwa sat in the middle seat with Yeosang; San sat in the far right corner, with Wooyoung sitting beside Mingi and Hongjoong on the comfy armchair opposite the massage chair. You noticed one person still missing.

“Where’s Jongho?” you asked them, noticing the youngest one’s absence.

“Gaming,” answered San, bundling up underneath covers to avoid the chill in the room.

Leaving the living room, you went down the hall to the larger bedroom. Beside a bed up against the wall, Jongho sat at his computer with headphones on and absorbed in his game. You stood there a few seconds to see if he noticed you, but when he didn’t, you walked up to him and gingerly lifted his headphones from his ears. Jongho let out a cry of protest, but quieted when he saw you.

“Movie night,” you answered his questioning gaze. “Come watch it with us.”

“Hm,” he leaned back in the chair, pondering thoughtfully, “I don’t know. I’m kinda deep in my game here. I’m not sure I could go right now,” he gave you a sly smirk. You’d have to convince him.

“The game can wait,” you took his hand in yours and pouted, “I haven’t seen any of you all day. Come into the living room and sit with us. I got those spicy chips you like.”

His hand was so close to your body, he broke away to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you into his lap. Giggling from the sudden pull, he blindsided you with a kiss that started light and quickly became tender. It was then that Jongho noticed it:

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he said in your ear, lust making him exhale deeply. “I can feel it through your shorts.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you said. “It’s no big deal.”

“I feel bad for anyone sitting with you,” He gripped your thigh tenderly and said, “They’re going to have a hard time keeping their hands off you…especially when you’re not wearing a bra either.”

“But that’s not that new,” you replied, pushing hair from his face. “I rarely wear bras in the dorm. You’re all pretty immune to that.”

“Eh, not as immune as you think,” he disagreed. “I know there have been days where I avoided Braless YN so I don’t get inconvenient boners. Now, add no panties to that equation, and…you know what? I think I’m good here.”

“Oh hush,” you giggled, moving to slide off him, “You’re coming with me, Mister.”

“Or we can stay here,” he suggested, bringing you back to his lap, “And play while they watch the movie?”

“Another time,” you said, leaving his lap and taking his hand.

Jongho sighed defeatedly and followed you back into the living room. You took a seat with Mingi, and snuggled with him underneath the blanket. The winter chill became more noticeable in the lounge area than anywhere else in the dorm. You regretted not wearing more layers than the tanktop, sweatshirt, and shorts you’d pulled on. Making a mental note to finally do your laundry was interrupted by gentle lips pecking the cartilage of your ear.

"I missed you," Mingi said, kissing the spot again. "I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You did see me though,” you told him, flipping over to look at him properly. “You saw me this morning when you woke up.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” you laughed, recalling a groggy, disheveled Mingi leaving his room earlier that morning. “I said ‘morning, princess’ and you went ‘mmphrfmurmur’ and went into the bathroom.”

“I don’t remember that,” he replied, smiling softly. “I was half-asleep.”

“When did you go to bed?”

“Late.”

The Ateez way of saying ‘probably at 2 or 3am’. You’d gotten used to hearing this answer from any given member, so you said nothing else and moved onto another subject.

“What’d you do today?” he asked, putting an arm around you. At this, you saw a hint of realization hit him, but much like Yeosang, Mingi just kept on talking, “You were gone all day.”

"Going anywhere but to her appointments," said Seonghwa, already munching on popcorn while waiting on the others to pick a movie. "Sungmi called," he said, "She's supposed to call one of us if you miss too many. Why aren't you going, babe? You know you're supposed to."

"They're going to think we have you locked up in a bedroom somewhere if you don't go soon," joked Jongho, who’d taken a spot between Yeosang and Seonghwa.

"I don't need to go," you whined, turning over to look at him. "If there was something wrong with me, I'd know and I'd go."

"That doesn't matter," said Seonghwa. "Go to the appointment." He looked over at Hongjoong, who was arguing with Yeosang about the movie choices. "Hongjoong, tell her to go to her appointment. She listens to you."

"Nah, not that one! Let's watch the first one. That's the best one," he told Yeosang, not having heard Seonghwa.

"They're all lame, in my opinion," said San. "Does it have to be that one?”

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa threw a popcorn piece at Hongjoong, who looked at him affronted, "Tell YN to go to her agency appointments. Sungmi says she has to go or they're going to do a house visit."

"Why aren't you meeting with Sungmi?" He asked you curiously. "It’s not just for us, but it’s for your health.”

"They schedule them too early," you said, giving him your famous pouting expression.

"Then reschedule them for later in the day. You have to go to these appointments; it’s in the contract that you go at least every three or four months" he said.

"But I don't need to. I’m fine.”

"Oh, really?" A smirk slowly stretched across his face, "Maybe we should give you a reason to go, then? Since you don't have one?"

The others stifled laughter, and your cheeks burned again. The words 'bodily trauma' came back, and a shiver went up your spine. Not once have your partners pushed you beyond your limits or boundaries; they made sure you remained comfortable and safe as possible. Yet, the slight implication in Hongjoong’s question brought a creeping heat around your ears. You hid half your face to conceal your embarrassed smile.

"I'll go," you squeaked.

"What was that?" He asked, tilting his ear towards you.

"I'll go to the appointment tomorrow."

"Good girl," he smiled fondly. He turned to Seonghwa, "See? It's that easy." He turned back to Yeosang and San, “Let’s watch the first one. It’s so bad, it’s almost good.”

Seonghwa chucked another popcorn kernel at him, though ruined the effect by laughing. The group finally decided on a film, and settled in as it started to play. Mingi curled into the corner of the couch and put his arm around you underneath the blanket, so your back remained facing him. The warmth of him and the blanket fought off the winter air pressing into the glass windows. The movie, a sci-fi film featuring a scientist, a county sheriff, and a pair of college kids taking on a half-octopus/half-shark monster, proved as terrible as Hongjoong insisted it’d be. Though, the boys and you took this in spirit; you all made fun of the movie rather than take it seriously. You laid there in Mingi’s arms as you enjoyed their company. It felt good being surrounded by all of them at once, rather than in pairs or smaller groups.

A bikini clad girl happened to be screaming bloody murder when something else took your notice. At first, you thought the small bump might be bundled up fabric or simply your imagination. You focused your attention on the girl making feeble attempts to swim from the CGI shark-topus, but when Mingi shifted uncomfortably, you couldn’t help but move with him.

“I’m sorry,” Mingi mumbled in your ear, lips right against the edge, “I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said as quietly as possible. You did your best not to move too much, but the hardness poking your ass tempted you. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh?” Mingi slowly rocked his hips into you, the shaft of his length pushing into the fabric of your shorts. The lack of underwear caused an even more apparent warmth. His arms secured you close to him underneath the blanket, and he began kissing the crook of your neck. “Is that why you’re not wearing any underwear?”

“Haven’t done laundry yet,” you said. Thinking about it now, you realized how they might perceive this, especially when Mingi’s cock twitched against you. “I didn’t have any to wear.”

“And instead of washing some,” he began, “You decided to walk around without underwear? In this dorm?” you heard the accusation in his voice, and he laughed, “It sounds planned to me…and maybe I should give you what you want.”

“Mingi…” the heat from before crept over the rest of your body now, and the cool air no longer bothered you. "Here?"

"If that's what you want," he said, deep voice sending shivers to your core. "We can go to my bedroom instead. They can listen to us rather than watch this crappy movie." He kissed the crook of your neck, and said, "I know you like it when we overhear you…"

He wasn't wrong. You never said it out loud but anyone paying attention during sex would notice how aroused you became at being watched. Most of the members knew this, and the naughtier ones liked doing it within the vicinity of others. You gazed back into the room as Mingi groped and rubbed up on you. The other members sat near you; all of them remained focused on the movie playing in the living room, except for one. Hongjoong. He didn’t fully turn around, but he’d looked over to see you in Mingi’s arms. The light of the television illuminated the knowing smirk that went across his face. He scanned down your body, as if he could see through the thick blanket, and you bit back a whimper. He knew, even if nobody else noticed. Warmth began pooling between your legs as you pictured him coming over, pulling off the covers and pawing at you with Mingi. It wouldn’t be the first time. Your eyes stayed locked with his, and you gave a pleading expression. He glanced at the rest of the room as if to say, "Right here? You dirty girl."

You wouldn't have denied it either. The dirtiest fantasies of yours involved all of them ganging up on you, using your body any way they wanted and bringing you to climax multiple times. Hongjoong knew this because you’d confessed it to him; he said it’d be the hottest thing you ever did. However, you never brought it up to anyone else. You weren’t sure if you could physically handle all eight men taking advantage of you. You knew possibly three or four is manageable for you, but eight is excessive. You knew if you did that, you wouldn’t sit or walk right for a while; particularly with how horny and dirty some members get in the heat of the moment. The full on orgy would stay in your fantasies.

Mingi slipped his hands underneath your sweater, and you jumped at his cold fingers. Hongjoong didn’t look away; his leering didn’t alert anyone around him, so he kept watching. You dared to release a soft whimper when those hands grasped your breasts over your tank top. Mingi hummed in your ear, continuing to gradually grind into you. The movie’s volume drowned out any noises made between you, and your blanket concealed your movements. Hands over the tanktop and under your sweater, Mingi pinched and rolled your nipples gently.

“You really like when he watches, don’t you?” Mingi asked.

“A little.”

He let his lips linger on your shoulder, “I think it’s more than ‘a little’.”

The gesture sent waves of warmth to your lower half, where you started pushing back into Mingi’s hips subtly. You could feel Hongjoong casting occasional glances your way, which only added fuel to the fire. You felt Mingi’s length grow against you, the small bump getting steadily harder. Your pussy pulsed when he gave your tits another squeeze and pinched your nipples at the same time. Your thighs squeezed together for a form of friction, but wished for more.

“You’re not wearing a bra either. I can’t resist you when you’re braless.” He pecked the spot beneath your ear and said, “It’s torture…You do it on purpose,” he added the last bit as he rolled your nipples in his fingers.

A sudden gasp escaped you when a small surge of cold air snuck under the fleece blanket, and a hand slipped right between your thighs. You opened them to see Wooyoung right beside you on the floor. Dark eyes usually full of sweetness and innocence looked at you with seductive lust. His hand slid along the inner seam of your shorts; that dangerous seam connecting both sides together where he could feel your pussy the easiest. Merely the warmth of his hand built up your arousal further. His middle fingernail dragged against the seam, a very slight vibration coming from the friction.

“He’s not the only one,” said Wooyoung, clearly having overheard you both. “I like looking at them too, but I personally think you should be bottomless instead.” He pushed his finger to your sex oh-so-slightly, causing you to exhale deeply. He could no doubt feel your bare sex underneath the flimsy shorts, since he then lightly rolled his fingers around it. He smirked when you clenched your thighs around his hand. “That way, I can see this pussy whenever I want without so many layers in the way. You always keep it looking so pretty and yummy,” he gave a small growl before sealing his lips over yours. Mingi continued groping your tits while Wooyoung fondled your pussy. “I can't get enough of it."

"Me neither," agreed Mingi, who continued groping your chest and kissing you. "But your tits are my favorite part."

Mingi pulled the blanket off you and lifted your sweater and top over your chest. You gasped at the sudden exposure, but it did not last long. Mingi shifted around to let you lay on your back as both men started licking and sucking your nipples. The sensation of two mouths teasing your breasts and two hands roaming your body electrified you. You tried staying quiet as Mingi firmly sucked one nipple and Wooyoung slowly swirled his tongue around the other. Wooyoung kept tracing the inner seam to drive you wild, and you almost forgot the other men in the room. ‘Almost’ because another pair of hands soon joined in. Sliding up your thighs, Yunho kissed his way to your hips, sliding up the chaise section to your legs.

“What’s going on over here, hm?” he asked, dotting kisses on your thighs. “Is this movie too boring for you?”

“It sucks,” said Mingi, capturing your lips for a kiss. You moaned into his mouth, unable to stop yourself. “I found something more interesting to do instead.”

Yunho’s long arms reached up far enough to the curves of your breasts. He took up the one Mingi abandoned, and carefully circled his thumb around your hard nipple. You surrendered completely once Yunho’s fingers hooked the waistband of your shorts.

“Let’s get these off,” he said, kissing down your stomach as Wooyoung switched sides and suckled your other breast. You felt more exposed once Yunho pulled off your shorts to reveal the truth. “Oh god, no panties,” he breathed, “I knew it. I could tell when I saw you in the kitchen.”

“Me too,” said Wooyoung, who joined him in kissing down your body. “I told her she should walk around bottomless from now on. That way,” he went back to rubbing your sex and you squirmed at the new feeling, “I can see this whenever I want.”

“Fuck, if you did that,” Yunho moaned, sitting on the couch and spreading your legs, “You’d be sitting on my face nearly all day.”

“I’d love it,” you breathed in between Mingi’s kisses, “I love your tongues so much.”

“Oh, do you?” Wooyoung said, mischief in his voice as he knelt closer to your hips. He sat up fully to hover over your pussy. Having him and Yunho this close made your clit throb. “No wonder you flaunted it in the kitchen. It is where we eat after all…”

“I’m pretty hungry right now…” said Yunho, laying between your legs on the couch and swiping his tongue over your slit.

Mingi took over your nipples while Wooyoung and Yunho rested over your lower half. Being pinned down by Wooyoung’s arm, you couldn’t move away from the light brushes against your lips. One tongue already made you a whining mess; two tongues had your eyes rolling back. The tips of their tongues prodded between your folds carefully, sliding and licking them open until they found your clitoris. Yunho’s tongue licked over the underside while Wooyoung took over the top. Both of their tongues came together in the middle, creating this encompassing sensation that had you breaking away from Mingi to moan out loud. You didn’t care if the others heard you. You wanted them to hear you. You wanted all of them, at once, together. Hongjoong happened to be looking on longer as the three men groped and licked you. Your cheeks heated up from the sudden realization from his staring, and you looked away. It was when Wooyoung took your clit in his mouth, and moaned against it that you let go. Yunho, liking this reaction, did the same when his turn came. Both men began alternating: Yunho at your entrance and Wooyoung on your clit. You thought you might lose your mind.

You then reached down Mingi’s body to the boner pulsing against your side just to hear his deep, low groan in your ear. You rubbed along the tent forming in his shorts until you pushed it aside to let his cock out. Your mouth watered, feeling the thick muscle pulsate against your pelvis and picturing it elsewhere. You loved hearing the members moan when you had sex with them. You loved Wooyoung’s soft sighs and Yunho's throaty groans. Mingi was no exception. He moaned into your neck, groping your breasts still and rocking into your hand. You gripped it gently to wipe your fingers over the wrinkled underside, the sensitive part that made him harder. You loved pleasuring them as much as they loved pleasuring you.

“I’d gladly walk around naked,” you said to them, arching your back as Wooyoung and Yunho’s tongues flicked your sex, “If you guys do too. Living in a dorm with so many yummy cocks to choose from is a dream.”

They all chuckled as they pleased you. Then, another voice called out when a lamp turned on. “Hey, turn her around so the rest of us can watch too.”

It was Jongho, and his comment made all of you laugh. Yeosang, sitting beside him on the couch, flicked on the opposite lamp. A bit of shame heated your cheeks as dim lighting brought you into their view. No matter how long you’d been with them, having their attention on you still made you bashful. Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho let you sit up on the couch. You let Mingi pull off your sweater so you sat naked under their gaze. Their jaws dropped seeing you bare in front of them in the living room, a public place in your dorm. They still reacted this way whenever they saw you naked. Whether in the bedroom or somewhere else, every time was their first time. Nothing made you feel more desirable than having all of them entranced by your body.

“Lean back, baby,” Mingi said, tugging down his shorts and kneeling beside you.

You took his tip in your mouth at once, giving a soft moan when the hot tip touched your tongue. Yunho and Wooyoung knelt in front of you, each man holding one of your legs and continued eating you out together. Inch by inch, you drew Mingi further in; you held him by the base, cupping his balls in your hand at the same time so he had that extra stimulation. You looked up to see Mingi had stripped further down, his naked torso now visible and making him a jaw-dropping sight. Full lips parted in every moan, you saw the need for release etched into his features, but you refused to give him that. Not right away. The slew of moans the two men beneath you caused became muffled by Mingi’s dick; an act you’re certain drives him wild. Mingi liked pleasuring you while you pleasured him for this reason.

Slurping up the juices your spit and his precum made, you let your tongue linger under for a few moments before suckling the throbbing muscle. You could feel it pulse on your tongue and against your cheeks; more precum leaked inside and you swallowed greedily. All this made Mingi grab a hold of your hair and force you to the base. Letting him guide you, your hand moves in tandem with your mouth. The bundle of sensations coursing through your body caused trembling and sensitivity as Wooyoung and Yunho brought you closer to climax. You knew you'd explode from their tongues teasing your sex from top to bottom repeatedly. Their light flicking tightened the knots tightening between your legs.

"So soon, baby?" Yunho said, pecking along your inner thigh. "We've barely started."

"I can't help it," you whimpered. "It feels so good-Ah, Wooyoungie!"

Wooyoung responded with a growl he made sure you'd feel. His tongue slashed across your clit from side to side and you nearly collapsed from the sensation. Mingi pushed himself back into your mouth, grunting and groaning along with you. The climax burning in your lower stomach slowly built until you were shaking. You'd always been able to hold it back whenever you took on multiple partners, but the possibility of fulfilling your greatest fantasy charged it forward. You didn't know what the end result would be, and you couldn't wait for it.

"No, no, no," Wooyoung said, pulling away right as your orgasm touched the edge. "You hold onto that for now."

"You haven't been fucked yet," Yunho added. "You don't want to cum without anything inside you, do you?"

"But…but I don't know if I can," you pouted at him. "It tingles a lot."

They awed at this, and it was Mingi who spoke. "Just relax and enjoy this," Mingi sighed, pressing his tip to your mouth again.

“I’ll take your mind off it.”

San. You knew what he meant before he even approached. He positioned himself opposite Mingi; he stood on the couch and leaned on his side. Your mouth dropped open when he pulled his pants to his thighs. Having San exposed like this made you gravitate to him. Your body continued gradually coming down from the edging, so neither Wooyoung or Yunho touched you right away. They stuck to being spectators below, watching you along with everyone else.

Stroking Mingi’s wet cock, you opened your mouth for San. He groaned at the first touch of your tongue to his underside. San liked it when you took your time; he didn’t like hasty, half-assed sex. You licked him from base to tip without using your hand, so his shaft stayed on your face every lick. San groaned as he watched you trace the veins along his stiffness and suck on the tip each time. Concentrating on both Mingi and San made it easier to avoid stirring up your orgasm again. You turned to Mingi, and opened your mouth for him. He grabbed his base to smack the head on your tongue, sliding it along the length of your tongue before pushing into your mouth.

“Such a dirty girl,” San moaned, forcing your head back so both cocks settled over your mouth, “You can never have enough dick, can you?” When you shook your head, the room chuckled. “I think you’re going to get more than your fill of dick tonight, sweetie.”

“Especially when you’re so eager for more…”

Mingi held you by the hair as they took turns in your mouth. All around you, you could hear the other members talking and felt their eyes drinking you in. You didn’t feel an ounce of shame. They loved you, and you loved them. You had no reason to be ashamed of this kind of behavior. You liked having them watch. Before any of them ever touched you, you used to like letting them sneak peeks at you in the shower or in your bedroom, getting dressed. The largest turn on was when one member walked in on you with another, and he stayed to watch. They know you like being watched, and did it now just for you. When San plunged himself down into your throat, you received nothing but encouragement and praise.

“Hold it, hold it,” you heard Seonghwa’s deep voice instruct from nearby. “See how long you can keep that dick in your throat, baby.” Your throat tightened reflexively around the intrusive length, and you struggled for air for a few seconds. “Remember what I taught you,” he said, sounding closer now, “Relax and breathe through your nose.”

You tried. You really did, but you finally pulled away from San, coughing and gasping for air. You looked to see Seonghwa sitting where Wooyoung had been on your left, hand gently rubbing your inner thigh. Shirtless in lounge pants, Seonghwa was a vision of beauty. Black hair in an undercut, sharp features bare and perfect, he resembled a painting in a high end museum. How could you not love a face like his?

“I’m sorry,” you coughed, chest heaving up and down. “I tried.”

“That’s okay, angel,” he said, “Try it with Mingi’s now.”

Mingi guided you fully onto his dick, your lips brushing the hilt while his cock touched your throat. He isn’t as long or as large as San, so you managed it with ease. Seonghwa looked on intently. He liked seeing you give the other members blowjobs before getting one himself; he once said he liked having them warm you up for him. Mingi and San both groaned each time you took one of them in your throat. San moved in and out of it easily, enjoying the gagging sounds you made each time he did it; Mingi liked keeping you firmly down while Wooyoung and Yunho made you moan through your throat. The pleasure heightened when a tongue swiped over your soaked, stimulated pussy.

“Mm, tastes so good,” Seonghwa growled, making sure you felt it before he suckled the sensitive nub. “I could eat this all day, and never get bored.” He gave it a soft kiss, “Especially if she’s throating my cock while I do it.”

“Same” Wooyoung agreed, using his turn to make rapid swirling motions there. This instantly stoked the fires inside you again. Yet, every time you grew close, they pulled away. It became total torture that you never wanted to stop. “I could do this all day. I don’t care if my jaw locks up. Hearing her cum is worth it every time.”

The members laughed at his bold statement, but it only made you hornier. You went back to sucking Mingi’s dripping cock when something slim and long finally slid inside you. You looked to see Yunho’s mouth agape as he slowly pumped two fingers into your pussy. He shifted to the side somewhat so the rest of the room could see his fingers stretching your hole while the other two licked your clit. San had been fucking your mouth when Seonghwa and Wooyoung spread your lips further to greedily lap at the pearl hiding in the folds. The cries of pleasure were muffled by the thick cock filling your mouth, but they heard them nevertheless.

“I think she’s going to cum,” Yunho said smugly, maintaining the same pace throughout. “I can feel that pussy getting tighter and tighter.” He pulled them out to rub your juices over your clit and back down, your clit getting a break from tongues to enjoy fingers instead. Your mumbled whimper amused him, and he repeated the torturous motion again.

“I don’t know if I want her to cum yet,” Seonghwa pouted, kissing up your body to your nipple which he suckled softly. “I just got here. Let me see…” His hand replaced Yunho’s inside you, also going slow and steady. You could feel his fingers prod your g-spot briefly, making you see stars behind your eyelids. Each stroke had you whining, and sucking two different cocks added to this pleasure. “She is close,” he agreed with Yunho. “Look at her, she’s shaking,” you heard the taunt in his voice, and you switched over to Mingi once more. Your eyes met his and his jaw dropped, “I bet you want to cum really bad, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you gasped, taking a moment to breathe and stroking both San and Mingi.

“Let me…” Wooyoung stopped using his mouth and instead fingered you right as Seonghwa withdrew. “Ooh,” he cooed, “It’s squeezing my fingers every time I go in. Especially when I go in deep like this.”

He demonstrated by sinking his fingers into the last knuckle, pressing on your g-spot and making you cry out. He did this repeatedly a few times, and brought you so close you nearly went over. He pulled them out to rub over your clit once more. He started rubbing your clit up and down while Yunho’s fingers filled your pussy again. Seonghwa took occasional flicks and licked up the mess your juices made. It reminded you of the time San and Wooyoung tied you to your bed, where they teased and edged you the way you liked. You went back to sucking Mingi’s cock, the blond haired man groaning as you hollowed your cheeks for him. Seeing your shaking thighs and hearing your moans, the other members sensed your orgasm from afar.

“Come on, now. You know you want to cum.”

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, baby. We want to hear you cum.”

From across the room, your eyes locked with Hongjoong’s. He sat in the arm chair at the end of the couch, lounging casually and watching you like he’s watching his favorite tv program. The sight of him passively observing you somehow made you more sensitive.

You’d never tell a single soul just how much you enjoyed Hongjoong’s cock. You'd never reveal how his dick was the one you craved during lonely nights; how you loved the feel, the taste, and the size of him. He’d been your first, and he’d always carry that title with him. Yunho sunk his fingers deeper inside, moving them faster and angling them a bit higher; Wooyoung worked on your clit while Seonghwa reached up to suck your nipples. Hongjoong caught your gaze, and groped the bulge growing in his pants.

“Cum,” he mouthed out, biting his lower lip and eyeing you closely.

As if activated by his voice alone, you climaxed. Body stiffening on the couch, muscles contracting, your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm blew through you. You suddenly became so hyper aware of the men stimulating you; the men watching you in the room and eagerly awaiting their turn with you. Yunho kept the same pace during your orgasm, the motion of his fingers making your eyes roll back. It was absolute bliss.

Coming down from your orgasm, you saw Jongho and Yeosang preparing a space in the center of the living room. Jongho placed down blankets from around the couches, while Yeosang put pillows where you’d be more comfortable. Seonghwa guided you from the couch to a space on the floor, where he let you kneel down on a long pillow cushioning your knees. Taking up your hair again, this time he eased his cock into your mouth. Your throat already accustomed to it from Mingi and San, you took his cock with nearly no difficulty. The entry burned your throat every so often, and brought tears to your eyes. They brimmed your eyelashes, and trickled down the sides to your cheeks. Seonghwa only wiped them away with his thumb.

"Take it easy," he said gently. "You don't have to be so hasty with me."

Seonghwa never bragged about it, but they considered his dick ‘above average’. Not huge or disturbingly big, it still took a bit of effort where penetration was concerned. When he went in, you definitely felt him for sure. You gingerly sucked and licked him, not taking him in your throat until you felt ready to do so.

“Look at him,” Seonghwa told you, and you knew who he meant. “Look over at him while you suck me off.” You glanced over at Hongjoong, who’d started stroking himself under his pants. You wanted so badly to walk over and pleasure him yourself. But, you knew he wouldn’t want that. “You know how much he likes watching you be used like a little fuck doll. Give him something to watch.”

Seonghwa let out a low groan as you started sliding your mouth up and down on him. You felt the heat of Hongjoong’s eyes on your body; you felt them peeling away at you until he reached your core, where your dirtiest fantasies lay hidden. Opening your mouth, you stroked Seonghwa over your tongue so Hongjoong saw thin droplets of precum fall into your mouth. You enjoyed the salty taste, licking up from base to tip and spitting some onto it before sucking on it again. The arousal flared when Yunho took up the space next to you and grabbed your hand to wrap around his cock. After choking yourself on Seonghwa’s dick the way Hongjoong liked, you did the same to Yunho, who let out hoarse groans as you did it. Yunho never pressured or forced you to pick up speed; he liked letting it naturally play out between you both. Jerking Seonghwa at the same speed, strings of profanities and moans came while you took turns on each one. Soon, more drool leaked from the sides of your mouth, which you usually wiped away, but Hongjoong was watching. He liked you messy.

San knelt behind you. You knew it was him by the warm hands starting to roam your sides. He reached around to your pussy where he started stroking you lightly. Your clitoris still felt sensitive from your first orgasm, yet you craved more. One hand spreading your lips apart, the other moistened your entrance with the cum left inside you. You gasped around Yunho’s length when you felt something hard pressed to your entrance. San swirled his tip around your sex a few times, moaning softly before sinking it an inch or two inside. You let go of Seonghwa and Yunho to lean forward onto another pillow, arching your back to slide more of him inside. A whole new wave of euphoria arrived the moment he filled you completely. You lifted your head to realize Hongjoong was not that far from you, possibly a few feet. His eyes went from your face to where your body met San’s, and he stopped stroking himself.

“How’s that, baby?” San asked, starting off with a steady speed. “Hm?”

“So…So good,” you whimpered, “Go faster. Please.”

He didn’t disappoint. San drove his hips into you faster, and you felt his cock reach further inside. Right as he got into a proper rhythm, another member took the space in front of you. Jongho, the youngest of them all, smirked down at you. He held his dick out in front of you, slowly rubbing it as he’d done this entire time.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, scooting closer to you and lifting your head upright. “I’ve been dying to fuck your mouth all night.”

“Pl-please,” you said through gritted teeth as San held onto your hips and pulled you onto him.

“Then open up.”

He eased himself into your anticipating mouth. Jongho took no effort at all, and he always kept gentleness laced into the roughness. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself as far as he could, yet did not do so roughly. Your constant stream of whimpers and whines became stifled by the cock buried hilt deep in your mouth. Jongho’s precum added a new flavor to the mixture already there, and also left your cheeks and chin a mess. You could feel the other members around you, awaiting their turn while Hongjoong looked onwards. Even if you couldn’t see him, you knew he watched. Jongho occasionally released you so everyone heard your guttural, hoarse moans from San’s thrusting hips.

“You look so pretty like this, Noona,” Jongho huffed, using that affectionate formality he knew sparked something inside you. “All dirty and horny while we use your…your holes,” he said, pushing himself back into your mouth. “I could do this all day.”

“Me too…”

Yeosang knelt beside Jongho, who withdrew his member to let Yeosang go next. Much like Jongho, you had no trouble sucking him deeply and firmly. Suddenly, you became surrounded. Two hands grabbed your breasts and pinched your nipples, while a third hand languidly stroked your clit. From the sounds around you, Seonghwa and Yunho played with your nipples and Wooyoung once again touched you further down. A sharp smack on your ass came from Mingi, who took hold off both cheeks and spread them as San charged inside you. In a few long strokes, San stopped completely and something dripped onto your ass hole.

“Her ass is so nice,” Wooyoung moaned, no doubt looking on as Mingi rolled his thumb around your ass. “That’s another one I could eat all day if she let me…”

Wooyoung’s oral fixation had no bounds, and you loved it. “Touch it,” you moaned, taking Yeosang out to say it, “Please. I love it when you play with my ass.”

They all laughed softly, and Mingi smacked your ass again. “Is that so?” Wooyoung’s hand left your clit for your ass, smoothing over one cheek before giving it a sharp slap. “If that’s true, then maybe I should eat your ass more often.”

“I bet she’d cum just from that alone,” Mingi said, bending to lick the hole which caused you to cry with Jongho in your mouth. “I’d love to try one day.”

“She has,” Wooyoung told him. He joined in the teasing, spitting and swiping over it with Mingi. “She can be a real filthy slut when she wants to be.”

“The filthiest.” Hongjoong’s high voice reached you over the commotion, and you pushed yourself into San’s hips faster and harder. “She’s nothing but a dirty pervert who craves our dicks all day long.”

“Hyung!” Yeosang huffed with a laugh, even turning over to look at him.

Jongho and him moved to look at Hongjoong, but he only had eyes for you. That familiar glint of depraved lust winked at you, and you so badly wanted him to join. But, you knew he wouldn’t right away. Hongjoong managed his arousal way too well for your liking. The others could become almost feral when in the moment, but not Hongjoong. His cock stood up straight, laying on his stomach and twitching at the lightest ministrations but he did not give into that primal instinct inside him. Having him watching you this way brought you closer to the edge on San’s member, making you grunt in every push.

“Isn’t that right, YN?” he asked, running his fingers up and down the underside of his engorged hardon. A trickle of precum wet his fingers, and you licked your lips. He laughed, “Answer me.”

“Yes!” you squeaked as a finger started rolling around the rim of your ass. Wooyoung spat between your cheeks again, and he spread it around. “Oh fuck, yes! Yes, yes, yes! I am a filthy slut! I am!”

Your answer satisfied him, and he continued touching himself. “Show me then,” he said, “Show me what a slut you can really be.”

You continued working on both Yeosang and Jongo, switching between them every so often to pleasure them both while Wooyoung’s fingers pushed right into the brim of your ass. Seonghwa then lifted you up as far as San’s dick allowed and spoke into your ear.

“I want you to ride me,” he said, licking the edge of your ear to kiss your neck, “While your real owner watches you.” He rapidly began rubbing your sensitive clit, making you clench your thighs and squirm. “Because that’s what he is. We might date and fuck you, but you’re his. All his. I want him to see how good I fuck you when he’s not here to do it.”

San, having overheard the conversation being so close, added, “He loves watching us fuck you this way. He’s even asked me to fuck you in front of him before, you know.” He leaned close to your ear, “Be a good girl and ride Seonghwa for your owner.”

Seonghwa laid down beside you and the others released you. Yet, right as he did this, a small blue packet landed on his chest. You all looked up to see Hongjoong holding a box of condoms. Beside it, you spotted a bottle of lubricant and a gray shoe box. You gulped at the sight of the box. You knew what was inside, and it excited you. But knowing them, they won't pull those out right away.

"We have these for a reason," he said, putting the condoms on the couch where they could easily grab it. "Please use them."

Seonghwa smirked at him, and tore open the condom wrapper. Once he slid it over his cock, you straddled him. On sore knees, you sunk yourself onto him right away. Leaning forward, you kept your back arched as more hands rubbed over your body. Yeosang and Jongho took turns stimulating your clit as you started gradually rocking on Seonghwa’s dick, causing you to fall deeper into a whirl of pleasure. This new angle had his cock pressing into your g-spot again, and their hands only pushed it along. Wooyoung left your ass for your mouth, which you opened gladly to let him in. Seonghwa, with a perfect view of Wooyoung abusing your throat, moaned in utter satisfaction and pushed his hips into yours. It was the wet tongue and fingers on your ass that excited you immensely. San, most likely lying fully on his stomach in between Seonghwa’s legs, had pulled your buttocks apart to lap at your hole. Your muscles tensed once more as Seonghwa angled his body to bury deep inside you; the arms holding you up started trembling and you knew you’d give out right away.

“Lay down, baby,” Wooyoung said, kneeling down over Seonghwa’s head and bringing you at level with him, “That’s it…just relax and-Ah, fuck, hyung!”

“You shouldn’t have brought them so close to me,” Seonghwa chortled, and you saw his tongue flick over Wooyoung’s balls. He hummed around one and the vibration made Wooyoung wriggle over him. “Such a sensitive boy; just like our sweet YN.”

And so you both went to work on Wooyoung. The slim, dark-haired man whimpered and moaned at the two mouths pleasuring him. Your second climax finally arrived when Mingi’s fingers slipped into your ass without warning. The mixture of all the different sensations had you tearing up and shaking uncontrollably. Wooyoung’s cock sunk deep into your throat, just so he could feel you moaning around him.

“That’s it…Just like that,” Seonghwa moaned from underneath, “Cum all over my cock. I love feeling your pussy get tighter around..me…”

“Be nice and loud for Joong-hyung,” Mingi groaned in your ear, keeping his fingering careful and slow. “He loves hearing you cum like that. Yeah, just like that.”

He cooed at you when your orgasm strengthened and you grew louder. You finally stopped, shaking and quivering, as it came down. Every muscle in your body felt weak, but the burning desire to keep going overpowered the physical tiredness. It was everything you pictured it to be. All the nasty, self-disrespecting actions you always pictured yourself doing even despite your self-respect were coming true. The best part of it was Hongjoong’s approval of the treatment.

“Come here, angel.” Mingi grabbed a condom from the box next, and laid down next to Seonghwa. “Turn around for me,” he said and you did as told.

You expected him to slide himself into your pussy, but instead, he pushed his tip to your lubed ass hole. When you gasped, he paused, “I need you to relax, okay? Take a deep breath for me.” When you nodded and tried calming down, he said, “Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, “I’m going to fuck you in your ass now. You can go at any pace you want; don’t feel you have to go too fast or too hard. Fuck…yes, like that. Take it nice and easy, angel.”

He grunted when you gingerly sank halfway down on him. “Mingi-ah,” Hongjoong said, “Here.”

He passed Mingi the lubricant from the couch. Cold and sticky, Mingi poured a bit onto his length and then on you. While it made your ride easier, nothing compared to the stretch and full feeling it created. Anal always left a lasting impression, especially since it made you feel particularly stuck on him. Yeosang knelt down in front of you, giving soft kisses to your shoulder and collarbone.

“You’re doing such a great job, darling,” he praised, kissing the base of your neck. “I know you’re getting tired, but you only need to go a little longer, okay?” He massaged your bottom tenderly, pecking your lips and kissing you softly. You watched him take up the lube and squirt some onto his fingers. “Want me to finger you?” he asked, tracing cold digits across your heat, “While Mingi fills your ass? I know you love having more than one.”

“Yes,” you whined, sinking fully onto Mingi before slowly coming back up. “Please.”

Yeosang sunk two fingers into you, and you moaned loudly. He let you grind and brush into his palm each time you went down; he sometimes picked up the pace if he thought you’d grown too quiet. Out of habit, you grabbed his boner to stroke slowly. The addition of lube he poured on the tip had Yeosang softly panting in your ear. You’d been lost in the feeling of the two men pleasuring you that you didn’t notice Yunho coming up beside you with something small and pink in his hand.

“I think I know exactly what our pretty girl needs,” he said, voice full of mischief. “Just keep riding Mingi while we do the work for you.”

You looked at him to see a body wand in his hand. Your pussy instinctively clenched Yeosang’s fingers, and he pushed them further inside to wriggle the tips close to your g-spot. The gentle vibrating coming from the wand made you nearly dizzy from stimulation, creating squeals and high pitched cries whenever it rolled directly onto you. Yeosang removed his fingers so Yunho could place the head of the toy right over your entrance. You started bouncing on Mingi faster, the vibrations causing sharp tickling sensations that matched the feeling from behind. Yunho did not move away; he followed your hips wherever they went, even wiggling the wand from side to side. The members watched in awe as Mingi held you in place and started pushing into you.

“Yun…Ho…” you cried, tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation. “Yunho, it tingles!”

“I know, baby,” he smiled, “Hongjoong-hyung gave it to me for us to play with. Tell him how happy you are that he got it for you. Go on.”

“I’m ss-s-s-so ha-happy! Ah-”

Yeosang put his fingers back inside when you leaned back and Yunho tapped your clit with the wand. Your third climax hit you harder than the first two. Your body turned stiff, your head cocked to one side and eyes squeezed shut tightly. Yeosang waited until you’d fully stopped to slide his fingers between your parted lips. Sucking them eagerly, you let out several shaky breaths and did your best to stay up straight.

“You okay?” Yunho asked, tucking hair behind your ear. “Do you want to take a break?” When you shook your head, he said, “You don’t have to take all of us right now if you can’t. We won’t be upset. You’ve done so much already, baby.”

You turned your head to look at him, starting to ride Mingi again, “I want to keep going. I love it too much to stop now.”

He smiled and kissed you, “If you ever want to stop or have a break, you know the word to use, right?”

You nodded.

“What is it?” Yeosang asked, kissing down your chest.

“Buttercup…”

“That’s right. Good girl. Lay down on the couch for us,” Yeosang said, “Get comfortable.”

Yunho helped you over to the couch, where you rested against Yeosang in front of a large pillow and sunk into his comforting arms. Yunho lifted your ankles to his shoulders, and rolled on a condom before handing one to Yeosang. He waited until you settled down to sink inside you. Yeosang then pushed his own cock into your ass, since now Mingi stretched it enough that the pain did not burn so hotly. Both men worked you gently, watching you melt between them as more pleasure pulsed through you. Seonghwa came back up to the side of the couch, body wand in hand, and rolled the vibrating head over your nipple. The tickling feeling surged down in your loins where Yunho and Yeosang slowly pushed in and out of you. Jongho came beside the lower half where his fingers lightly ran over the lips of your pussy, making you squirm and tremble. Your walls clutched Yunho tightly, and this made him thrust deeper and faster.

“Are you going to come already?” Yunho panted, holding onto the backs of your knees as he moved. “Is your pussy that sensitive?”

“Ye-yes,” you nodded, huffing and puffing from exhaustion as the men used you. “It feels so…good…” you kept your eyes closed as they all worked on you. “Don’t stop no-now…I’ve wanted this for such a long-long time.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang asked, grabbing your breasts and holding them for Seonghwa’s toy to tease them more accurately. “Maybe Hongjoong is right. You are a dirty slut. Is this what you were thinking about when I caught you using your toys in the bathtub? You remember that, don’t you?”

You did. Vividly. You recalled Yeosang walking in by accident, seeing you sitting on the edge of the tub and holding a vibrator to your cunt. He’d joined you right away, fondling and kissing you while sliding the toy in and out. “Yes,” you moaned, “But I still liked it when it was just you.”

“So sweet,” Yeosang awed, thrusting up in time with Yunho now so they filled you together. “Go ahead and cum again for us. You can do it, baby. We know you can.”

A fourth orgasm erupted in a scream. Yunho and Yeosang kept the same pace, but Seonghwa and Jongho focused their efforts on your clit. Seonghwa pushed the toy down while Jongho held the lips apart. Sharp pain and pleasure mingled inside and you quaked in their embrace. They hardly gave you time to relax as Yunho and Yeosang withdrew before Jongho got his hands on you. Laying you on your side on the floor, he lifted one thigh above the other and slipped himself inside you immediately. It was then you noticed the box. A small gray shoebox with a designer label on the side. Hongjoong didn’t only bring the body wand. He brought the whole box. Jongho started pounding you right away, moaning your name and squeezing your tits while you stared at the box at Hongjoong’s feet. He gave you his devilish smirk and nodded to the toy box.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jongho asked, bending over to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You feel so good and I’m so fucking turned on by you.”

“Don’t stop,” you muttered, pushing into him and keeping his hands on your chest. The remains of your last orgasm, and the pure adrenaline coursing in your body kept you going at this point. “I want you to keep going. Please?”

Jongho, always needing reassurance you wanted him, started rocking himself deeply inside you. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you,” he admitted to you, kissing up your neck, “It’s why I like fucking you in my room when Yeosang and Wooyoung are there. I like watching you take more than one cock at a time.”

“Jongho,” you giggled, pushing back into him, “You naughty boy.”

“You make me naughty,” he smirked, pushing deep inside and staying there. “But,” he pinched your nipple gently, “There’s someone here who likes watching you more than me.” He kissed your cheek, and then said loudly, “Hm, I wonder what I should do with our girl next? Hongjoong-hyung?”

“Spread her legs open,” Hongjoong suggested, leaning back in his chair and looking on. “So we can see what her pussy looks like being abused by your dick.”

Jongho laughed, then lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder. Fully spread apart, Hongjoong was given a clear view of your soaked, sore pussy being stretched once more. Mingi pulled the gray box towards him, and rifled around before finding the bullet vibrator. A baby blue toy the size of an egg was then pressed to you and Jongho met from behind you. Both of you felt the light vibrations that made Jongho more desperate for release. While you cried and pleaded, Wooyoung came to level with your head and pushed himself into your open mouth. You did your best to suck him, but Jongho’s dick pushing to your core once more with Mingi’s toy buzzing around your sex, it became difficult.

“She can’t even suck my dick properly,” Wooyoung laughed, not upset or disappointed but amused. “Such a dumb little doll. Let me help you, baby.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer as he started sliding himself in and out of your mouth. Diving deep into your throat, you sputtered as a moan tried escaping you but was blocked off. “She’s loving this,” Mingi smirked, “I think we should do this more often just for her. I know she’d love that.”

“We don’t want to work her too hard though,” said Jongho, who pecked kisses along your leg and ankle. “It might hurt her a lot.”

“Nah, it’s healthy for cock hungry sluts to be gangbanged once in a while,” said Hongjoong. “They need to be fucked into oblivion so they remember what they’re good for.” He held back a moan as he said, “She needs to remember she’s just our little cum dump from time to time.”

Some members stifled laughter at his bold, cruel words but you only whined. Yes. Yes, that’s what you were: a toy for the members to release their frustration on. Companions do so much more for idols and idol groups, but sex is usually involved. You didn’t mind. You’d known this from the beginning; you lucked out having loving partners, since not all Idol Companions have such good experiences. You showed that side of you to them right now by submitting to their whims and pleasures.

Mingi put the toy right underneath the nub, and with a few more pumps from Jongho, you clamed up again. Another orgasm came so quick and hard, not even Wooyoung’s member stifled it this time. All the members cheered you on, encouraging you to cum one more time or spread yourself further to let Jongho go deeper. Hazy and dizzy, you collapsed onto the floor. You might as well be a pool of jelly. Your holes ached, your jaw burned, and you thought you’d pass out any moment. But, you had more to do. You hadn’t gotten the thing you wanted the most. The boys put you back on the couch, letting you sink back into comfort as Wooyoung grabbed an anal plug Mingi handed to him. Both men prepared you for the small pink plug before sliding it inside. Being on your back, the toy would be pushed in and out of you as Wooyoung sucked up the juices smeared on your thighs and leaked from your entrance. His warm tongue soothed but also pinched your clit whenever he touched on it.

“Wooyoung just fuck her already,” said San, joining in by flicking your clit with his tongue. “I’ll take care of this right here.”

“But I like eating her when she’s been fucked a few times,” he replied, licking up your thighs. “She’s so sensitive and responsive afterwards. I love hearing her mewling and whimpering like this.” He quickly rolled his tongue around your clit so you made those exact noises. San hurriedly joined in and both men eagerly ate you out. “Do you like that, YN?” asked Wooyoung, sucking on your clit and forcing the plug deep in your ass. “Hm, do you?”

You let out a stream of incoherent sentences, and they laughed. “Silly baby,” San awed, pouting and kissing your clit, “So fucked out she can’t even form a sentence.”

“Been fucked stupid,” Wooyoung smirked, “Exactly how I want her when I put my dick in her.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as both men took advantage of your weakened state. Wooyoung sat up right, condom already rolled on, and sunk himself into your aching, throbbing, burning hole. You could hardly see straight, the room becoming blurry in your glazed tears, and your body became numb to everything except the pleasure Wooyoung and San provided. It didn’t take very long for Wooyoung’s soft panting to turn into high moans, eyes full of need and desire as your pussy pulled him into you.

“Please cum, Wooyoungie,” you mumbled, reaching out to his chest and torso so he felt your hands on him. “I want you to cum all over me.”

“Say that again,” he moaned hurriedly, picking up speed, “Say that again.”

“I want you to cum all over me. Please, Wooyoung. Please?”

“Yes, yes, baby. I…I…”

He withdrew right away, tearing the condom off, and you looked down to see his glistening cock twitching as he stroked it. Thick droplets of white fell onto your lower stomach before shooting up to your chest, where the musky scent and sticky heat started to cover you. You admired Wooyoung’s lithe, slim body; his tanned skin beaded with sweat and black strands sticking to his temples and forehead. His lean muscles constricted, and his soft lips parted in every groan. He finally stopped with a few more pumps before San took his place. Lifting your legs up, he slipped on his own condom, and started fucking you right away.

“You just lay there, baby,” he said, “Be a good toy and let me use your pussy.”

“Yes, Sannie. Use my pussy to cum, please,” you panted.

“Do you want me to cum on you too or somewhere else?” he asked, bottoming up into you carefully.

“On me. Please. All over me. I want it all over.”

“Of course you do…” Hongjoong walked up beside you, crouching down to where your head laid and kissed your temple. “Any self-respecting slut loves being cummed on,” he leaned into your ear and traced light circles over your nipples. A faint, fresh scent came off his clothes and skin; he’d showered before the movie and it still clung to him. It added another layer of comfort and relaxation. “And being cummed in too,” he groaned in your ear before kissing it, “Just wait until it’s only you and me. I’m going to breed that pussy the way it’s meant to be. I’m going to breed you nice and hard and deep,” he gave your nipple a pinch, “And you’re going to take every drop and keep it in you.”

“Hongjoong, but…”

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he assured you. “I only want to see how pretty you look with my cum dripping from your holes. You’re already so beautiful covered in cum.”

“She always looks so-s-so good,” San huffed.

Like Wooyoung, he pulled out right when he orgasmed. San tilted his head back, jerking quickly so thin streamers fell over your stomach and breasts. Hongjoong and you looked on together, watching San pump himself until he’d been completely spent. Mingi, the one who started this whole thing, went afterwards. He didn’t waste time with seductive words or praises. He pushed right into you, and didn’t stop until he was a sweaty, panting mess jerking over you. His streams mainly landed on your breasts, clearly where he’d hoped to aim. Hongjoong, wiping up a clear strip of cum, put it to your lips to taste it.

“I wonder who will shoot into this slutty mouth,” Hongjoong said out loud, letting you suck more from his fingers. “They know how much you like to swallow their loads after they’ve fucked you.”

“Oh, I am,” Yeosang took his place beside you and pushed hair from your face. Hongjoong sat on the couch arm rest, still admiring your filthy, naked body like a work of art. “I want my sweet girl to drink every little drop I give her. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you said weakly.

You stuck out your tongue as Yeosang rubbed his tip over it. You had no energy to properly suck or jerk him off, but you gave soft, kitten licks to the head until he started shaking in front of you. He called out in a loud cry like his orgasm imploded inside him. Streaks of cum flew into your mouth and on your cheek, but you quickly caught them by latching your mouth to the tip. Hongjoong kept your hair out of the way, and encouraged you to open up so Yeosang saw you’d swallowed all of it.

“Good girl,” Yeosang rewarded you with a kiss, “Hongjoong better give you an extra special treat for behaving so well.”

“I will,” Hongjoong said fondly, as if doting on a child.

Seonghwa stood a foot away, looking over your body as if he’d never seen anything as lovely before. “You know how much I love your mouth too,” he told you, already at the cusp of his orgasm, “Open it for me, baby. Just like that.”

It didn’t take him much longer. What caught you off guard was Jongho, who’d taken Mingi’s place between your thighs. Both men came rather quickly, since they worked themselves up beforehand. Seonghwa slid himself in and out of your mouth while Jongho pounded you hard. Sucking Seonghwa off felt like eating a candy with a gooey center; it dribbled onto your tongue rather than outright shot into it. Seonghwa and Jongho both picked up their pace: Seonghwa’s cum leaked into your mouth even as his orgasm erupted through him; Jongho’s mainly trickled down over your pubic mound and the crevasses of your thighs. You swallowed the oozing cum, making sure Seonghwa saw you eagerly licking him clean before he withdrew.

“Look at you,” Yunho smiled, taking Jongho’s place, “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen covered in a bunch of cum.”

“Isn’t she a pretty sight?”

“The prettiest.”

Yunho sunk deep into your leaking pussy, and gave into those primal urges inside. His nails dug into your hips, and his balls slammed into your ass as he used your body. The momentum caused the plug inside you to move around, and you almost came again from it. Hongjoong leaned down to your ear, and gave it a soft nibble.

“Just one more, baby,” he said, “Then we’ll clean you up and I can breed you.”

The thought of being bred by Hongjoong excited you so much. Yunho’s cock pushed right into your center, and you started moaning. “I want you to, sir,” you whimpered into his ear. “I want you to breed me.” You’re not an idiot. You’re sleeping with several different men and you’re still young. You obviously take birth control, and they use protection to avoid pregnancies or diseases. But, the idea of Hongjoong’s bare cock pumping you full of his seed made you horny again.

“Of course, you do,” he said. “You’re a fuck doll that loves being cummed in as much as possible. It only makes sense I empty my balls inside you the way a good owner would, right?”

“Yes…”

“Fuck, hyung,” Yunho laughed in between moans, head back and pushing feverishly. “You’re terrible.”

“And she loves it.”

Yunho soon removed his condom to spill his own seed like the others. It created a pool between your breasts and stomach, the thicker strands sliding down your sides and some remaining on your chest and chin. Yunho, his long, broad body hovering over you, only stopped when the last clear drop fell on your stomach. You took a glance around the room to see the others slumped on the couch; their bodies clearly worn out from giving the best thing they ever could. The only one fully alert was Hongjoong, who chuckled and kissed your forehead. Yunho pulled out of you, and so did the plug. He muttered something about cleaning up later, but you hardly heard him.

Elation. Delight. Satisfaction. Only a few of the words to describe the feelings rolling inside you. A lopsided grin graced your face as you let your body melt into the couch where you laid. You wished to bask in the weightless after glow forever. It reminded you of the feeling after a long spa day, completely mellow. Hongjoong grabbed a wet towel he’d brought during his excursion for the toy box, and wiped most of the semen from your body. You loved his delicate, gentle touches; the care he always took when he looked after you. They all did aftercare in their own way, but it pretty much remained the same: baths or showers, snacks, water, and ice packs or lotions if needed. You heard about Companions who'd be left on the floor like garbage after rough sex. Your boys never did that to you. They loved you. Six years together proved as much to you.

As the others started pulling on underwear or shorts, Yeosang brought you a water bottle that you gulped down in a few swallows. It’d do nothing for the taste left in your mouth, but it hydrated you. He mentioned something about tea for your throat, and kissed your forehead. Each man gave you a cheek or forehead kiss before leaving the room; Hongjoong and Seonghwa were the ones who brought you to the bathtub Seonghwa prepared for you. Hongjoong sat beside it as you slunk into the warm water. You deeply inhaled the lavender scented wafting from the bubbles, resting back on the bath pillow Yunho bought you. Hongjoong dipped a soft washcloth into the soapy water to wipe your face and neck, occasionally kissing you. Every muscle in your body turned into putty, barely having energy to remain up without Hongjoong’s help and effort on your part. Your center stung from being penetrated in so many ways, and your clit felt sore from the constant action. You’ll certainly need to go to the agency clinic now. But not yet. There was one member who hadn’t taken you, and he is the one you wanted the most. You noticed the erection still in Hongjoong’s pants, and you knew it’d be balls deep in you soon enough.

“How do you do it?” you asked him quietly, looking up at him from your head rest.

“‘Do’ what, baby?”

“Hold back like that,” you explained. “You’ll have a raging hardon, but don't do anything about it right away.”

“Practice,” he smiled, running the cloth between your thighs. Not in a sensual way, but to simply clean anything the water didn’t remove naturally. You winced at the soft cloth on your pussy, so Hongjoong went more carefully as he went further down. “I used to edge myself a lot when I was younger. I liked the feeling of holding back as much as I could before finally cumming. It makes that final orgasm so much better. Not to mention,” he casted a side eye glance at you, “There are certain people whose pleasure I care about more than mine. You know, people who mean so much to me and who I enjoy pleasuring first?”

“Seonghwa?” you said, a teasing smile on your face.

“You, dummy,” he flicked some water at you and you both laughed. He peppered a few kisses on your lips, then said, “That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted to fuck you right here in this bathtub right now.”

“Then why don’t you?” you asked, hand reaching from the water to touch his knee. “I can take it. I promise.”

He smiled, taking your hand to wipe his cloth down your arm, “I know you can, but I know you’re tired too. I can wait, baby.”

Hongjoong kissed the inner part of your wrist, then continued washing you. Hongjoong held you close as he dried you off in his lap, not caring if you wet his clothes, and brought you into your bedroom. After helping you into bed, Hongjoong undressed completely, exposing his body to you one piece at a time until he stood naked. Keeping on the lamp beside your bed, he slipped underneath the sheets with you and locked his lips with yours. You wrapped yourself around him and he slid his arms underneath your shoulders. Hongjoong let his hard shaft slide over your clit a few times, using his own precum to slicken your folds. When you flinched, he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses on your neck, “Do you still want me to do this? I can just rub it out myself if you’re too stimulated. I don’t want you to go through any pain for me.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted you to do it.”

You reached into your bed side table where he’d left his flesh light the last time you slept together. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, pulling out a lube bottle from the opposite drawer and handing it to you. Sitting up despite your tiredness, you squirted a bit of lubricant onto his cock and coated it liberally. This motion alone had Hongjoong groaning and clutching your bed sheets. You really did love looking at his cock. The size and girth fit just right, never splitting or going too deep inside. You ran your fingers underneath the head, giggling when it twitched. Laying halfway on top of him, your thighs straddling one of his, you carefully sunk the fleshlight onto his cock. The groan of relief Hongjoong gave was enough to regenerate your arousal. His face scrunched up from pleasure, the pleasure he’d been withholding for a long time, was put permanently into your memory. When you looked down, you saw his dick filling the clear, silicone toy.

“I love your cock so much,” you said in his ear, “I get wet thinking about the things you can do to me with it.” You slowly started grinding into his thigh, humping him in lazy motions while dragging the fleshlight up and down. “I kept thinking you’d fuck me in front of the others, so you can show them that I’m yours. Show them that my body is yours,” you kissed his jawline, “That my pussy is yours.”

He laughed. The same laugh he’d do before his verses in songs. A mischievous, mocking laugh almost, imprinted on the lustful moans he released. “I don’t have to fuck you in front of them for them to know that,” he said, pulling you close and grabbing one of your breasts. “They already know whenever they hear you cumming for me.”

He slipped his other hand over your ass, giving a squeeze before feeling underneath it. The soft squelching sounds of the toy mixed with both your moans as you kissed. Hongjoong squeezed and fondled any part of you his hands could reach while you humped his leg gingerly. When you both became heated enough, Hongjoong pulled off the toy and rolled you onto your back. You prepared yourself for him to enter you by clutching the pillow under your head. Seeing you surrender yourself over to him, Hongjoong kissed you deeply while entering slowly inside you inch by inch. All the need and desire from the orgy came back, and soon Hongjoong’s growls and grunts filled your mouth. It didn’t take long for your lover to be quaking on top of you. A bit of thumb circles on your clit had you crying out his name again. Your hands slipped into his black hair as he kissed and bit down your neck, and across your collarbone; your hips pushed down into his simply to have more of him. You needed all of him. He sensed this from kissing you alone and bottomed up into you until you quivered in his arms.

“That’s it,” he hissed, “Go ahead and cum just one more time. I want to hear it; go on.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can, sweetie. Do it for me.”

The final orgasm came a bit fainter, but it still controlled you as it’d done the times before. You lost all sense as Hongjoong started going faster, causing your bed to hit the wall in light smacks. By the sloppy movements, and feral grunts, you knew he was close to finishing soon.

“Cum inside me,” you said in a small, quiet voice. It was that innocent voice he loved hearing you do when he dominated you. “Please, Joongie. Cum in my pussy, please.”

“I will, baby. I…I will…fuck…”

Spreading your legs far out, Hongjoong lifted your lower half as he emptied himself inside you. In a series of long, drawn out groans, Hongjoong kept himself deep inside you as he came. You could feel his dick twitch against your walls, and coating them with his semen. The strokes he did were short and hurried so he could keep every drop deep inside you. You liked the feeling, you realized. Your hands dragged down his shoulders to his arms where you grabbed his forearms for support. Making Hongjoong cum this way, this hard, fed your pride well. He didn’t pull out right away when he finished either; he rarely ever did. You both laid on your sides, your leg over his hips to keep him inside you a bit longer. That final feeling of relaxation clouded over you instantly, and you finally gave into it.

“Just go to sleep,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose and nuzzling it. “I’ll get the lights and clean you up.” He then chuckled, “That is, if Wooyoung doesn’t beat me to it.”

“Huh?”

Hongjoong grabbed one of the squishmallows from the head board and tossed it at the door. You gasped at the sight of Wooyoung with his phone held up, who cackled and put the phone down. You laughed with him as embarrassment flushed your cheeks, and you buried your head in Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Out!”

“I just came to get my charger,” Wooyoung laughed in his defense, “I gave it to YN-”

“-Use someone else’s charger!” he scolded, breaking from you to launch another stuffed animal.

Wooyoung continued laughing, wishing you goodnight and closing the door. You both heard his laughter as he walked down the hall, and you cuddled back to Hongjoong.

“How many videos does that make?” you asked in a joke. “A dozen?”

“More like a hundred,” Hongjoong replied, bringing you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “He takes photos of you too when you’re not looking. I remember catching him filming you showering a few years ago; when you first moved into the dorm instead of living in the company residency.” He rubbed your back soothingly, and kissed you again. “I’ll get him to delete them, if it bothers you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, shutting your eyes and basking in his warmth. You felt a prominent stickiness between your thighs, and knew it’d bother the hell out of you. But, you felt too tired to really do anything about it. “You have videos of me too.”

“Yeah, I do,” he grinned, flashing you his cheeky smile before kissing you once more. “Let me clean you up, then I’ll shut off the lights. Seonghwa will make you some tea for your throat.”

“Okay,” you yawned, stretching your sore body and drifting to sleep.

The last thing you remember is Hongjoong reaching for an ice pack you keep in a miniature fridge near the bed, feeling content and gratified. A part of you hoped they did it again, even if it did make you insanely exhausted and left you aching. You guessed you’d have to go to your appointment soon. ‘Bodily trauma’. Who would’ve guessed that?

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b14augrana · 5 months ago

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Nenita

You plan a surprise for Irene’s birthday

Irene Paredes x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings needed!

A/N: in honour of irene’s birthday, i decided to write a little fic. there will be a new section in the scrubber masterlist for all the blurbs about cute moments with scrubber and the girls! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Your calendar was very significant. You marked off your birthday, upcoming matches, Christmas, but most importantly… all your big sisters’ birthdays. Each of their birthdays were marked on your calendar in pink glittery gel pen.

You were giddy the night before their birthdays, probably even more excited than they were. Tonight, it was Irene’s big day that you were looking forward to as you laid on your bed stomach-first, filling in a card you made yourself.

Birthdays were a big deal for you because it was probably the most appropriate time to tell someone just how much you loved them.

Your captain was a very special woman. She was your second mother, mentor, and friend, all in one. Everyone needed an Irene in their life, but unfortunately there was just one, and not-so-unfortunately, she ended up with you and your team.

Those were the words you wrote on her card before sealing it in the envelope. With a smile, you placed it on top of the neatly wrapped gift stashed in your closet… that was piled on top of what looked like a dozen more.

The morning of the 4th of July, you were up before Irene. Carefully and quietly, without hitting the walls with your tower of gifts, you walked out of your bedroom with them and placed them on the coffee table. You placed your card in front of them and scrambled to the fridge to pull out the cake you made for her.

You weren’t a professional baker, but you knew how to make simple things like a cake. Irene loved red velvet cake, so when you stacked it all together with a homemade cream cheese frosting you had worked all week on (almost) perfecting, the end product was a birthday cake. You decorated it with the help of Fridolina, using sprinkles and cake toppers she had chosen, then two big ‘3’ candles right in the middle.

You were proud of your cake, even if it wasn’t the best. You figured that it would be nice to test out your baking skills instead of buying a red velvet cake that already cost you an arm and a leg without extra decorations.

Your culinary creations didn’t stop there. Next on the menu was french toast that you dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup, and garnished with strawberries and blueberries. It made you feel like a proper chef, and once you finished constructing your meal, you looked at it in pride. It almost looked good enough to go in your stomach.

“Irene,” you whispered, nudging her bedroom door open as you carried her breakfast and a cup of coffee into her room, on a tray. Your grin was hardly containable.

She rolled over, looking at you through squinted eyes. Her expression brightened and her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she sat up while a smile flashed across her face.

“Meu nenita, moltes gràcies,” she replied, her smile widening as you placed the tray on her lap and put the coffee on her bedside table.

“After you eat, come to the living room. I have to give you something!” you chimed, skipping out of the room and leaving the woman to eat her food.

When she emerged out of her room, you were standing in front of your gift tower with your arms behind your back and a beaming smile on your face. You moved to the side, gesturing to your gifts. “Surprise! Feliz cumple, hermana!”

Irene gasped quietly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked at you in surprise. Before even paying another thought to her gifts, she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you gently. “Nenita, you didn’t have to. How did you get all of this– no, how did you hide all of this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you responded, “I’ll have to do it again next year. Open the card!”

You picked up the envelope and handed it to her, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. She tore it open carefully and pulled out the card, taking a minute to read it before lowering it and looking at you with glossy eyes.

‘Dear Irene,

From the very first day I played with you in Barça, I’ve seen you as a second mother to me, away from my home. Not only do you take care of me and let me live under your roof, but you inspire me and teach me to be better than what I am capable of, on and off the pitch. I am lucky to spend my days with you; a beautiful, loving, and talented person. Being under your guidance and having you by my side during every game has made me the player I am today and I will always be grateful for having you in my life now, and hopefully forever.

Feliz cumpleaños, hermana! T'estimo per sempre.’

You were the one to initiate the hug as you wrapped your arms around her. She was quick to react and do the same, embracing you affectionately. “T’estimo, meu hermanita,” she mumbled.

Once you had pulled away, your grin hadn’t faltered one bit. “When all of the girls get here, we can have cake!”

“What do you mean, all of the girls?” Irene questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, all the girls. Alexia, Mapi, Frido, Ingrid– who else.. oh, Caro, Marta, Aitana, Lucy and Ona,” you answered, “Now go on, go get ready. The icing is going to start melting!”

#scrubber #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femení #fc barcelona #woso #woso community #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #irene paredes #irene paredes x reader #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona x reader #fcb femeni #fcbfemeni #b14augrana’s gifs

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 year ago

Text

Good Omens Graphic Novel Masterpost ❤ 🐍😊

(you know how I like doing masterposts :)🥰 - I will update the masterpost as the kicstarter updates ❤)

What is Good Omens: the Official (and Ineffable) Graphic Novel?

The Good Omens: the Official (and Ineffable) Graphic Novel is the upcoming adaptation of the glorious 1990 Good Omens novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman in a graphic novel form. The adaptation is done by the talented Colleen Doran who worked with Neil on several other of his projects such as Chivalry, The Sandman, or Snow, Glass, Apples. The adaptation done under the gentle eyes of both Neil Gaiman and the Terry Pratchett Estate so don't worry that it will be unfaithful <3.

How can I help/join/pre-order?

The project is done on Kickstarter to keep the creative control with Neil, the Terry Pratchett's Estate and Colleen. If you're not familiar with Kickstarter it is a place where you pledge money and in return you get the product plus possible bonuses.

The Kickstarter Tiers

There are many tiers and options! WAHOO! ❤ (note that the shipping will be extra)

The Nighttingale Tier - £20 - GONE

This is only available for the first 24 hours.

You get the copy of the Graphic Novel :).

Also available to add a mug, another copy and bookshop bundle. :) (these options are available to add with every other tier)

The Human Tier - £25

You get the copy of the Graphic Novel :).

Also available to add a mug, aziraphale and crowley pins, another copy and bookshop bundle. :) (these options are available to add with every other tier)

The Serpent Tier - £40

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Loot Pack #1: 2 x A4 prints of Colleen Doran artwork from the graphic novel, a glossy postcard and bookmark. Stretch goals will unlock more artists and artwork towards this box.

The Hellhound Tier - £120

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Loot Pack #1: 2 x A4 prints of Colleen Doran artwork from the graphic novel, a glossy postcard and bookmark. Anna Morozova, Frank Quitely, Alice Oseman, Paul Kidby, David Aja, Mark Buckingham, Tanya Roberts, Sarah Graley & Rachael Stott and colouring page prints. Stretch goals will unlock more artists and artwork towards this box.

Loot Pack #2: 4 x A4 Good Omens prints from Colleen Doran, Crowley and Aziraphale enamel pins, a punchy sticker set, and the brand new Good Omens trading cards. These cards will be playable and collectable and as a special treat for Kickstarter backers we will be sprinkling some rarer cards in with these packages at random so you might just unlock something very special.

The Witchfinder Tier - £200

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

New largescale map of Tadfield (and the rest of the planet), designed by Julien Labit. Capturing the mysteries and oddities of the picturesque town in all its glory this map will make any wall an instant talking point. Dimensions approximately 594 x 841 mm.

The Demon Tier - £320

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

The Horsemen Tier - £500

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

A3 Giclee Print from the novel (signed by Colleen)

New Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett collector's enamel pin set

Exclusive enamel pin of Beelzebub himself on a Hell card

The Beelzebub Tier - £666 - GONE

Limited to: 50. Note: the contents of this tier are not included in the higher levels.

Copy of the Graphic Novel

A mystery to be revealed. - Make a deal with the devil for this mystery tier at £666. It includes the Good Omens graphic novel, and– *demonic gurgling noises*

The Archangel Tier - £800

Limited to: 100.

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

A3 Giclee Print from the novel (signed by Colleen)

New Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett collector's enamel pin set

Exclusive enamel pin of Beelzebub himself on a Hell card

The Floppy Disk “Keeper of the Official Master”

Exclusive Metatron enamel pin on a heaven card

Unnamed character cameo in double page spread - Fancy being immortalised in the Good Omens graphic novel universe? Then get yourself painted into the crowd scenes! There will be an accompanying postcard with a full list of who's who, so you'll know who you're galivanting around Tadfield and beyond with.

The Antichrist Tier - £800

Limited to: 100.

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

A3 Giclee Print from the novel (signed by Colleen)

New Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett collector's enamel pin set

Exclusive enamel pin of Beelzebub himself on a Hell card

The Floppy Disk “Keeper of the Official Master”

Exclusive Metatron enamel pin on a heaven card

William the Antichrist (hardcover) signed by Neil - limited copy of the original short story that evolved into the tale we know and love today.

The Prophecy Tier - £1,000 - GONE

Limited to: 50.

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

A3 Giclee Print from the novel (signed by Colleen)

New Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett collector's enamel pin set

Exclusive enamel pin of Beelzebub himself on a Hell card

The Floppy Disk “Keeper of the Official Master”

Exclusive Metatron enamel pin on a heaven card

William the Antichrist (hardcover) signed by Neil - limited copy of the original short story that evolved into the tale we know and love today.

Signed (another) copy of the Good Omens graphic novel both Neil and Colleen

The God Tier - £2,750 - GONE

Limited to: 10.

Copy of the Graphic Novel

Variant Frank Quitely cover dust jacket (Frank Quitely is a Scottish comic book artist who worked with Marvel, DC and more).

Creator-themed notebooks; 1 x Neil Gaiman, 1 x Terry Pratchett

Crowley & Aziraphale socks

5 x Good Omens enamel pins

A3 Giclee Print from the novel (signed by Colleen)

New Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett collector's enamel pin set

Exclusive enamel pin of Beelzebub himself on a Hell card

The Floppy Disk “Keeper of the Official Master”

Exclusive Metatron enamel pin on a heaven card

William the Antichrist (hardcover) signed by Neil - limited copy of the original short story that evolved into the tale we know and love today.

Signed (another) copy of the Good Omens graphic novel both Neil and Colleen

Individual character cameo - You can feature prominently within the pages of the graphic novel itself. Maybe you're there while Crowley and Aziraphale feed some ducks; maybe you're there for something a bit more high octane; or maybe you're just stuck on the M25. What you'll be up to will be at the discretion of Colleen, but there are plenty of places in the journey towards the Apocalypse and we can’t wait to see where you will turn up.

Print of your cameo, signed by Colleen

The Apocalypse Tier - £8,000 - GONE

Limited to: 1 - this option was gone within the first hour of the launch. Except for the previous goodies up to the William it offered the last copy of the Celestial Edition (!!!), Foreground named character cameo, orint of cameo signed by Colleen and Neil and original sketch by Neil Gaiman.

The Bookshop Tier - £250

The option for bookshops.

20 x Good Omens graphic novel (bookstores only)

We've got batches of 20 copies of the hardback graphic novel for retailers at a 50% trade discount. We love bookshops as much as Aziraphale does and want YOU to be part of Good Omens with us. To celebrate the graphic novel's release into the world, we will have point-of-sale material on request nearer to release. If you have any queries, get in touch. Terms: These are for retailers only. Packs must be delivered to a verified bookshop address. You can buy additional packs as an add-on.

The Small Bookshop Tier - £125

The smalle option for bookshops.

10 x Good Omens graphic novel (bookstores only)

The batch of 10 copies for retailers at a 50% trade discount. Terms: These are for retailers only. Packs must be delivered to a verified bookshop address. You can buy additional packs as an add-on.

When it will come out?

It should come out in Summer 2024 :).

Enhancing the tiers

Unlocked so far (All unlocked prints are in Loot Box #1 :)):

Gold foiled cover - Every copy of the book will be finished with gold detailing.

Sarah Graley & Rachael Stott prints - Rachael Stott, award-winning comic book artist behind works such as Doctor Who and Star Trek, and Sarah Graley of Our Super Adventure and Invader Zim farne, are ready and waiting to put their own spin on the world of Good Omens for your prints collection.

Endpapers - Beautiful artwork on the front cover and on every page in between is just not enough. '150,000 unlocks beautiful endpapers that will be heavenly(or hellish„. that is still to be seen).

David Aja, Mark Buckingham & Tanya Roberts prints / Colleen Loot Pack #2 prints for lower box - David Aja, known for the award-winning Hawkeye, Daredevil and Seeds Mark Buckingham, known for Marvelman an Fables—and Tanya Roberts, whose work includes Too Story and Star Wars Clone Wars comics to name but two, will join our ineffable artist tearh. More so, Colleen's prints from Loot Pack #2 will be included in Loot Pack #1. Art aplenty

Alice Oseman & Paul Kidby prints - A special duo of Heartstoppers Alice Oseman prints first, her drawing of Aziraphale while watching S 1 of Good Omens and a newly commissioned companion piece for Crowley. AIso, Discworld and the Illustrated edition of Good Omens' Paul Kidby's out-of-this-world alien artwork can be yours.

Colouring page prints - Want to add your own colour to the world of Good Omens? We have some exclusive illustrations for you relax to.

Ribbons - We said in the campaign that we were talking silk ribbons for stretch goals, and we are angels (or demons, depending who you're talking to) of our word. Well upgrade the hardback to have this addition.

Anna Morozova & Frank Quitely prints - Unlock a sumptious print by Anna Morozova. known for 2000 AD &Judge Dredd. Plus receive a print of Frank Quitely's alternate Good Omens graphic novel cover.

Money raised will go towards the costs of bringing this project and its many tendrils to the most vibrant life possible, ranging from creative fees to production and beyond. Our stretch goals therefore bring more of that ineffable joy into the project: we'll (hopefully) be unlocking various finishes on the graphic novel, expansions on the loot packs, and some - if we're lucky - backer exclusives further down the road, but these are to be revealed...

You will be able to unlock artists including Alice Oseman (Heartstopper), Rachael Stott (Fantastic Four, Doctor Who), and David Aja (Hawkeye), with more to be announced.

(I will update the masterpost as the kicstarter updates ;))

Video by Neil, Colleen and Rob :)

Rob Wilkins: Judgment day is almost upon us. One angel, one demon want to do something about it, but there's the small problem of the missing Antichrist.

Neil Gaiman: The good Omens Kickstarter - we've got a fabulous, glorious, amazing adaptation of Good Omens waiting for you in graphic novel form.

Rob: Neil Gaiman was the first person, the first journalist to interview Terry after the publication of The Colour of Magic. They stayed friends and Neil met Terry again and discussed the idea of this novel that he had that he really ought to get written down and he sent the idea through to Terry and a little while later Terry called him back and said: you bastard I want that idea for myself, and Terry offered to either buy the idea or to work with Neil on the project, and as Neil said at the time it would be like Michelangelo calling saying: here give me a hand to paint this ceiling, so of course Neil and Terry worked on it together.

Colleen Doran: Hi and welcome to my studio. I am pleased and excited beyond words to talk to you tonight about Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's good Omens the graphic novel adaptation. You have no idea how happy I am to be working on this aside from the fact that I get to sit around and draw Azirphale and Crowley all day and who wouldn't want that - oh this is fun this is pure candy and I'm working very very hard to bring you a faithful adaptation. I love this book I love this project and bringing it to you is pure joy. Thanks a lot for your support. Thank you.

What now :)

So... head to the kickstarter, choose a Tier and Fall for it like Crowley :)❤

Who to follow for updates? :)

Tumblr: (me :D), @goodomenshq, @neil-gaiman, @colleendoran

Twitter: @FYeahGoodOmens, @GoodOmensHQ, @neilhimself, @pratchettonline, @ColleenDoran, @terryandrob, @kickstarter.

Instagram: @fuckyeahgoodomens, @goodomens_hq, @neilhimself,, @pratchettonline, @doran.colleen

Update 6.8.2023

Now as an add on you can add also new Aziraphale and Crowley pins 👀❤.

How to add if you already pledged:

Click one the Manage your pledge green button

Click on the Change your pledge violet button

Then again a green button with your pledge and you get to a page with:

wher you can add the pins and more :)

#good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #colleen doran #graphic novel #good omens graphic novel #graphic novel kickstarter #masterposts #graphic novel masterposts

2K notes · View notes

baddestbittyontheblock · 11 months ago

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anthony bridgerton fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

⊱· bickering by @ijustwant2write anthony bridgerton x reader, eloise bridgerton x reader (platonic) | bullying, fluff

-the reader uses a lot of sarcasm and it drives anthony crazy and he hates her/want to sweep her of her feet/is totally infatuated with her.

⊱· a potential scandal by @curseofaphrodite anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | fluff, fem!pronouns, anthony's a lil bit mean, suggestive language

-it was hate at first sight. or that's what he thought anyway.

⊱· sweet thing by @snvws anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | 18+ MDNI! in love!anthony. innocent!reader. lots of fluff. pet names. dialogue about sex. anthony is a lil fuckin tease… you’ve been warned. slight period language. no use of [y/n]. will be full on smut.

-anthony and you decide to take a stroll around your garden -- being your best friend, you can’t seem to keep anything from the man. before you know it, a burning question makes it’s way out of your mouth …unexpectedly. luckily for you, anthony takes mercy on you and decides to help you out… if only a little bit

⊱· with his head between her thighs by @gxtitobxby anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | 18+ MDNI innocent!reader, a sprinkle of period typical misoginy and a dash of slut shaming <3 oral (fem receiving), crying, reader calls anthony "my lord"

-“and he uses… his tongue?”

⊱· "with all due respect, i would rather face your wrath than my wife's." by @daydreams-magic01 anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | sexism, 1.6K

⊱· lover by @genyakosstyk anthony bridgerton x reader

-"this is a disaster."

⊱· art is to feel (ch:1) by @peterpparkrr anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | 2.2k

-anthony bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. to find a wife. what will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life?

⊱· baby, baby sweet baby by @iliveiloveiwrite anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | pregnancy, marriage and children, female centric labels - mother, wife, 1.2k

-a snapshot into anthony’s life as a father.

⊱· evergreen by @curseofaphrodite anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | implied smut at the end, besties to lovers, cheesy asf.

-you were back after a long trip and your best friend was pissed - not the best combo

⊱· unexpected affections by @clints-lucky-arrow anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | marriage of convenience, fluff, love confessions, mentions of future children. allusions to hypothetical sex, 3.5k

-the last thing that you expect is to encounter your husband upon a midnight quest for a slice of apple pie. and, most certainly not when the man in question is readily equipped with a fumbling love confession.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #fic recs #fic rec #anthony bridgerton x you

508 notes · View notes

teenidlegirl · 11 months ago

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿ ׅ ۟ ֪ 𝓣he 𝓑iker 𝓝ext 𝓓oor ۪ ׂ 𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀biker!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. a charming guy with a bike moves next door. you two embark in an interesting connection which becomes something much more.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. modern!au, neighbors to lovers, fluff, sprinkle of angst, tension, swearing, pet names, smut, references of sex, implied short reader, hispanic/latina!reader ( mdni )

the u-hual truck and several boxes on the curb. a new neighbor moving in, specifically next door to you. that house has been empty for some time and seeing it finally being occupied was a sight. looking through the blinds, you couldn’t see the new neighbors but only the two move-in guys. there seems to be a bike barked in the driveway, a black duacti to be exact.

oh now that is intriguing.

your new neighbor is a motorcycle rider. the bike is quite beautiful. your dad would be hella jealous since he adores ducatis. since there is a bike, where is the owner? scanning the area for the possible owner, a man dressed in all black with motorcycle jacket approached the u-haul truck to grab a big box that seems way too heavy to carry. but it seems the guy is a gym fanatic due to his bulky structure.

holy shit.

the dude is handsome as fuck.

dark chocolate locks along with some very visible strong cheekbones even from this distance. not only is he bulky as hell but also extremely freakishly tall. goddamn the man is probably over 6 feet. the move-in guys are only up to his collarbone and they are pretty tall themselves. this dude is a giant most likely.

this man is your new neighbor?

well fucking hell.

lifting your finger off from the blinds, you step away from your window to resume your day. although, it would be difficult to concentrate on anything since your mind is infiltrated with images of your new neighbor. you’ve never even met the guy and yet he’s all you could think about. get your shit together.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

you were returning home from work. pulling up into your driveway, you spot your new neighbor in his garage cleaning his bike. slowly getting out of your car, you sneak at glance at him without being suspicious. well, you’re wearing your black cateye sunglasses so nobody could tell if you’re looking directly at them or not. grabbing your purse and locking the car, you decide to introduce yourself.

fuck it, why not.

walking up his driveway to the garage, your ears were filled with music. the speaker be blasting linkin park. good music taste he has, definitely noted. he seems to not acknowledge your upcoming arrival since he’s too concentrated on cleaning his bike with a rag. now he must’ve acknowledge your presence as the corners of his lips curl up into a little smirk.

“ducati. badass.” you comment, stopping only a few feet from him so you don’t invade his space.

he let out an appreciative hum. “panigale v2.” his eyes never tear from the bike as he continues cleaning it with the black rag.

your eyebrows slightly raise in surprise. “my dad would be jealous. he used to own one but had to sell it to buy a car.” you cross your arms over your chest, obscuring him through your sunglasses.

“poor guy but understandable.” he wipes down the last bit of the bike before putting the rag away in a bucket next to him. “so which neighbor are you?” he never looks up at you as he starts scrubbing the front tire with a small black scrubby.

“next door to the left.” you tilt your head a bit to the side, digging your hands into the back pockets of your denim jeans.

“oh so you’re the one with the loud dog.” the guy couldn’t resist a smirk, sensing your light glare.

“not my fault he misses me.” you shrugged.

a low chuckle escapes his lips. “maybe you should be home more often.”

you look at him dumbfounded by his joke but you play along since it’s fun. “if only work was that easy. plus, he’s a husky, they’re criers.” that earns you another chuckle from him.

“what’s his name?”

“shane.”

you watch one of his thick eyebrows quirk upwards. “that’s an interesting name for a dog but it’s cool, quite unique.” after scrubbing the last bit of the tire, he drops the scrubby into the buckle, stands up from the little stool and turns to face you.

goddamn — he’s even taller than you thought. you have to crane your neck all the way up just to look at him. and dear lord this man is just pure muscle. the black shirt he’s wearing looks so tight on him that it acts more like a compression shirt. those broad shoulders stick out heavily, so mouthwatery. and that motherfucking waist, damn it’s so slutty that it’s a crime to have it that pinched. a damn greek god.

him on the other hand, traces your figure with his eyes. shit those denim jeans hug your thighs so perfectly, a little too tight to be honest which makes his chest warm. although, he was taken aback by your sunglasses, concealing your face that he desperately wants to see.

cleaning his hands with a clean rag, he walks up to you reaching out a hand to shake. “i’m miguel.”

you push your sunglasses on top of your head before taking his hand and gently shake it. “[y/n].” a little smile gracing your glossy lips with a head tilt.

miguel’s pupils dilate drastically from your face reveal. wow — you are very attractive, beautiful in fact. those gorgeous irises staring into his own and glossy lips that taunt him.

his pretty neighbor.

and he, your handsome neighbor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

“fuck!” you slap the stirring wheel. the car isn’t working. just fucking great, now you’re gonna be late for work and your boss is gonna murder you.

well this is a shitty fucking day. first you slipped coffee over your cute white blouse, now your car is broken. a lot groan of frustration escapes your lips as you rest your forehead on the wheel.

your frustration didn’t go unnoticed by a set of brown eyes from next door. miguel was preparing to leave for the gym until he saw you shouting inside your car. he couldn’t help but smile in amusement watching you getting pissed off. the sounds of the failing engine answered his question. he watches you get out of your car and slam the door, a few curses in between spanish and english escaping your lips. resting his helmet on the bike, miguel slowly walks over with arms folded across his chest.

“dead engine?” he asks, head titled a bit.

a sigh of frustration escapes you, rubbing the temples of your forehead with one hand while the other rests on your hip. “yeah so now i’m gonna be late for work. chingado…” you rest your lower back against the car, not meeting his gaze.

“i can give you a ride.” miguel suggested, his eyes analyzing your expression and body language.

you shook your head. “no it’s fine. i’ll just take an uber.” you pull out your phone from your back pocket to open up the app but a large hand snatches your phone. “hey! what the fuck man—“

“you don’t need an uber. i’ll take you, end of discussion.” miguel turns around and walks back to his bike, your phone in his hand.

“dude—“ you groan, rolling your eyes. well, you don’t have any other option since he took your phone. letting out another sigh, you follow him to his garage. “can i at least have my phone back? i promise i won’t take an uber.” you cross your arms with ahead tilt.

he stares at you for a moment to see if you were lying or not. then, he hands back your phone which you take very swiftly and put in back in your pocket, making him smirk. miguel walks over to a shelf with a collection of helmets and grabs a red one. he walks back to you and hands you the helmet.

“you ever ridden one?” he asks as he puts on his gloves then his helmet.

“just once with my cousin but that was years ago.” you move your hair out of your face and put on the helmet. it’s quite big on you, considering it’s his so of course it’s big. luckily it has straps for adjustment. now it fits a little better, still loose but better.

he only responds with a low hum.

walking up to the bike, a moment of realization hits you. it’s a big bike, well, all motorcycles are big. maybe it’s because your small and short as fuck.

how the fuck are you gonna get on that thing?

“need some help?” his baritone makes you snap out of thought as if he knew.

“well…” you didn’t even get finish your sentence when you felt his hands on your waist and suddenly lift you up to place you on the bike, making you gasp as you instinctively hold onto his biceps as support. your reaction earns a low chuckle from him.

“you could’ve warned me, cabrón.” you shoot him a glare as you swing one leg over the bike so now you’re straddling it, shifting a little to be comfortable.

those brown irises land directly on your thighs. they got thicker and plumper when you sat down. his mouth instantly watered at the sight. thankfully for his helmet, you couldn’t see his stupid expression. without answering back, he gets on the bike. miguel lowers the shield of his helmet then grips onto the handlebars, clenching those gloved hands.

“scoot a bit closer.” he said, head turned to the side where he sees your from the corner of his eye.

you look dumbfounded at his request. is this dude serious? since you don’t obey, miguel reached behind and grabs under your thighs, pulling you closer until your chest is against his back. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the sudden motion. not gonna lie, your stomach did a summersault. now your face slightly flushed. you lower the shield of the helmet to hide it. at first you were hesitant to touch him but you have no other choice. very slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his broad back. miguel can sense your hesitation, making him smirk underneath his helmet. gripping the handlebars once again, he turns his head to the side.

“hold on tight, chula.” he said so mischievously before turning on the engine and slowly start driving out of the garage then onto the road.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

so your growing friendship with your neighbor was interesting. is it even friendship? to be honest, it’s unclear what you two have. maybe an acquaintance since you’re simply neighbors. however, it feels more than just that. a strange bond between you two. but things got a little heated when you popped by while he was cleaning his bike, for the millionth time.

it was a hot day so you decided to wear a yellow summer dress. walking over to his opened garage, music blasts in your ears but you don’t mind. you’re a big music lover yourself. it’s the weeknd this time. this dude got great music taste. two of your favorite artists, linkin park and the weeknd. two things you have in common, definitely noted.

your pupils dilate drastically at the sigh of your neighbor. he wears a black wife beater that reveals his muscles so perfectly. holy fuck — he is built. each outline of his muscles is visible to the eye. but what makes your knees weak is those fucking gray sweatpants that hang below his waist.

fuck — he definitely chose that outfit on purpose.

snapping out of those horny ass thoughts, you approach him with crossed arms. “how many times do you clean that damn bike?”

miguel snorts, a little smirk gracing those plump lips of his. “gotta keep it perfect.” he uses a navy blue rag to wipe the front of the bike, sitting on a tiny stool.

“alright, mr perfectionist.” sarcasm at its peak but doesn’t affect him, only making him chuckle.

“at least i don’t have bird shit.” he teases.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i haven’t had the chance to get a car wash. work has been up my ass lately.” you want to slap off that growing stupid smirk on his face so badly. ugh this motherfucker.

“i could clean it for you, chiquita. all you have to do is ask. but of course, there’ll be a price.” a mischievous smirk illustrating his face as he glances at you. his eyes widen a bit at your dress. how pretty you look in it, yellow definitely suits you.

“ugh as if i would ever pay you, no thank you.” so sassy but he likes that.

he gets from the tiny stool. “just saying, chiquita.” miguel walks over to the counter to grab some stuff.

you roll your eyes once again before walking over to his bike. it’s a really gorgeous bike, so polished and clean. you’ve only seen the classic red ducati so seeing a black is a surprise but a cool surprise.

you decide to sit down the edge of the seat, your feet dangling since you’re so short. the cold metal hitting against your skin of your exposed legs, making you shiver a little at the cold sensation.

turning around, a small smile crept onto his face when he sees you sitting on the bike. walking back, miguel grabs the little stool and placed it down in front of the back tire. he sits back down, right next to your left leg as he begins scrubbing the tire.

while he continues cleaning, you glance around his garage. bunch of car supplies and cleaning equipment. not much decor other than the shelves of plastic black boxes. you realize the entire garage glows under warm lighting. it’s golden hour. turning to face the driveway, you’re greeted with the bright vibrant sun shining down on you. luckily you have your sunglasses so you put them over your eyes. you relish the delicious warmth of the sun, leaning back a little on the bike.

a refreshing breeze passes by, making your hair flow gracefully in the air. but your hair isn’t the only thing affected by the wind. the skirt portion of your dress flows. as miguel’s eyes tear away from the spot he was cleaning, he noticed your dress flowing in the wind a little too freely as it flows upwards revealing your pastel yellow panties underneath. his eyes widen at the sight as he felt his face grow hot, hints of pink staining his cheeks. miguel quickly looks away when you look back, painting a neutral face as if he didn’t just see your panties.

“bitch ass wind.” you murmured in annoyance, flattening down your dress, fully unaware of the peeping tom next to you. glancing down at miguel, you noticed the slight hint of pink on his face, making you quirk an brow. “what’s up with you?”

while trying to remain normal despite the image of your panties infiltrating his mind, he brushed it off so casually. “the sun, it’s too much.”

you stare at him for a moment then decide to let it slide with a hum. it’s true, standing under the sunlight for a while makes you feel hot. one time you went to the beach, even with sunscreen yet you still got burnt. you understand him.

after some time, miguel finishes and puts the cleaning supplies back on the shelves. when he turns around and walks back, you’re still sitting on the bike as if it were yours. the sight makes him smirk.

“comfortable much?” he stands beside you, bulky arms crossed over his chest.

“surprisingly, yeah it is.” you glance down at your seat then back up at him. you’re taken back by how close he was, literally right next to you. he towers you so easily, even when you stand. your eyes instantly land on his arms, his muscles flexing. goddamn he’s so built it’s insane. thank god for your sunglasses but for some reason he can tell you’re staring by the smug look on his devilish handsome face.

you then decide to hop off the bike and walk back to your house without looking back. “later, guapo.” the skirt of your dress sways along with your hips, making miguel feel hot and bothered at the sight.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

since that day, miguel hasn’t been the same. those repeated images of your panties infiltrated his mind a like damn plague. no matter what he was doing or where he was at, those images haunted him to the point of insanity. don’t even ask what he does at night because it very obvious. jacking off in his bed, moaning and whimpering like a little bitch. bro was so horny that he felt embarrassed and ashamed for thinking about his neighbor like that.

curse the fucking wind that day.

like you said, “bitch ass wind.”

oh and don’t even start with his weird ass behavior afterwards. miguel started avoiding you like a virus. bro was so down bad for you that he couldn’t even stay in the same room with you. he tried to be like his normal self but low-key he was going insane. not only because of the pantie flash but really because miguel likes you. the sassy, sexy diva energy radiating from you he adores a lot. he couldn’t get you out of his mind. all miguel thought about is you.

you, on the other hand, were confused by the sudden silent treatment. whenever you would visit his place, the garage was always closed. you’d knock or ring the doorbell but no answer. when you did see him, miguel was already drifting off on his bike. not gonna lie, you were a bit butthurt by the sudden distance. did you do or said something wrong? did you make him feel uncomfortable? millions of negative thoughts ran through your mind, wondering the cause for miguel's distance.

after some time, you demanded some answers.

his garage was open for the first time in two weeks. although, miguel isn’t nowhere to be found. his bike is parked so it means he’s home, probably dealing with something inside. while waiting for him, you wander around the garage looking at his stuff.

returning from his room, miguel stops in his tracks the moment he sees you. oh fuck — the woman who’s been plaguing his mind for two weeks stands in his garage only for one reason; and that reason scares him. he nervously glups as he watches you turn around. shit — you’re wearing the damn yellow dress again; the dress that accidentally flashed you.

“hey. what the hell is up with you? you’ve been avoiding me like some fucking plague. did i do something wrong?” you walk towards him, brows furrowed in a concern manner.

ah shit — he knew this would happen.

“no. i’ve just been busy with work.” miguel walks past you, heading towards one of the shelves of supplies. he can feel his heart beating fast, feeling anxious, and his palms growing clammy.

you follow him with a disbelief look on your face. “clearly i did something wrong because we haven’t talked or hung out in two weeks.”

shit shit shit.

now his heart is racing fucking wild. how the hell is he supposed to tell you? he can’t even look at you in the eye, too embarrassed and ashamed.

okay now you’re worried, or confused, or both to be honest. his strange behavior is now getting on your nerves. you notice his clenched fists at his sides, repeatedly opening and closing. you walk around him so you could stand beside him, almost in front.

“dude — what’s going on?” you sound genuinely concerned, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

just as your lips part open to say something, only a gasp spills from your lips as miguel grabs you by the waist and pushes you back against the ledge of the counter. his chest close contact with your face, both of your bodies pressed together leaving no space, sandwiching you between him and the counter. your hot and heavy breaths fill the air between you. very slowly, you nervously look up at the man who towers over you. both of his hands rest on your waist with a firm grip, gently grouping the dip of it. pure lust in those beautiful brown irises of his.

‘oh fuck me’, you thought to yourself.

your body tenses as he leans down towards your ear. “do you have any idea what you do to me? these past two weeks has been torture for me. all i could think about was you and those cute yellow panties you wore with that exact same dress you’re wearing right now.” he ends it with a squeeze to your waist.

oh fuck — his husky voice sends shivers down to your core, making your face flushed. he was thinking about you this entire time? now that’s a mindfuck. your heart skips a beat at his seductive confession. your chest heaves, breathing heavily.

does it make things worse the fact you’re wearing those exact panties right now?

“all i wanna do is ravish you. run my hands over your gorgeous body. bury my face in between those delicious thighs and make you cry from pleasure. scream my name until you can’t remember anything.” his hands slowly run up and down your sides, making you shiver at the sensation.

you can’t help but whimper at his words. god is this really happening? your handsome neighbor, who’ve you been secretly crushing on, wants you. fuck — you can feel your clit pulsating in anticipation.

“mig-miguel…” you softly moan.

“por favor, hermosita. let me have you, worship you.” miguel couldn’t help but start kissing your neck, right on the sweat spot which makes you whimper.

your arms slowly trail up his body until you wrap them around his thick neck, gripping the ends of his hair, making him pull back to look at you.

“worship me, miguelito.” lust laced in your tone.

his eyes darken, pupils dilating at your words. fuck the nickname hits him hard, sending jolts of pleasure down to his dick. he feels himself growing tight in his pants, a bulge forming. without hesitation, miguel smashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. god both of you have been waiting for this moment. you guys are practically eating each other’s faces. his tongue sneaks in, licking your lips for access which you gladly accept. a shared moan echoes in the air between you as you explore each other’s mouths. you dig your fingers into his dark chocolate locks while his hands roam your body, groping your curves.

without warning, miguel lifts you up by the waist and plants you on the counter. a soft gasp spills from you when you felt the raging bulge in his pants against your clothed core. while indulging in your heated makeout session, you feel a large hand slowly trailing up your legs towards your inner thighs. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers brushing against your panties, lightly rubbing your clothed core. another hand gently groping one breast. muffled soft moans spill from yours which eggs miguel on. he can’t take it anymore. grabbing underneath your thighs, he lifts you up and carries you out of garage and into his house. he shuts the garage door with a remote on his way inside.

as much as he wanted to take you on the floor of his garage, miguel wanted your first time together in a more comfortable setting.

and holy fuck — you’ve never orgasmed so many times in your life. he pull one after another from you, leaving you breathless and fucked out. also, probably the biggest dick you’ve ever taken. bro filled you up to the motherfucking brim, you’re on the pill so it’s fine but still risky (condoms are better).

and the aftercare, oh my god miguel is the sweetest man. such a gentleman, being sweet and caring towards you. made sure you were okay, getting anything you needed. gentle touches to make sure he doesn’t overwhelm you, whispering praises.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

ever since that night, you started dating.

y’all were fucking almost everyday.

one time, you rode him on his bike. yeah you read that. his garage was filled with your moans, echoing in those four walls. you holding onto his shoulders for dear life while riding the shit outta him. that was a fantasy come true for miguel, fucking you on his bike. oh he was a happy, horny camper. of course the garage door was closed so no one could see you two horny fucks. although, miguel wouldn’t mind people seeing you getting fucked so good by him, to make other men jealous and boost his ego.

the next time was on the floor of his garage. as much as you disliked the cold hard feeling of the floor, you were too cock drunk to care. another one of miguel’s fantasies coming true.

then it was in each other’s bedrooms, mostly miguel’s because he loved having you in his bed. one night after coming from your highs, both of you a panting and sweating mess, you stare up at the ceiling. miguel turns to look down at you, his eyes analyzing your expression.

“what are you thinking?” he was still a bit breathless, caressing your cheek with one hand.

your eyes remain glued to the ceiling. “i think we should just move in together at this point. it’s kinda stupid we’re together yet live in separate houses.”

a smile graces his lips at your confession. “then move in conmigo.” his smile grew wilder when he watched you turn quickly to look at him.

“my house is nicer, plus i have a pool and you don’t.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.

a low chuckle escapes his plump lips which makes your heart flutter. “vale vale, you win. demonio.” miguel continues caressing your cheek, relishing your soft skin against his palm. he nuzzles in your neck, planting butterfly kisses on your warm skin while his hands gently grope your curves.

you let out a satisfied hum as you run your fingers delicately through his dark chocolate locks. the both of you relax in bed, embracing each other.

you love your next door neighbor biker boyfriend.

◟ ࣪⠀ׅ ♱⠀𝓝ote. this idea randomly popped in my head while listening to “outside” by calvin harris.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @loser-alert @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @eatalyy @primroselovessupernatural @ghost-lantern @gaygerthelame

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀𝒪𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡⠀.ᐟ⠀#biker!miguel #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse

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bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months ago

Text

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs [cause i want these men in every universe]

01. i serve! (my ex's head on a platter) ft. roronoa zoro!

brought to you by my current hyperfixation with challengers and zendaya. set-up: you've worked your ass off; early mornings, late nights, diets, workouts, everything. only to still to fall in the shadow of the current badminton world champion and your ex: roronoa zoro. bitter, agitated and absolutely exhausted, you had decided to never see him or even think of him again. but when an email from his coach dracule mihawk finds you, proposing you and zoro team up for the upcoming mixed doubles champion's cup, can you refuse? here's part 02 cw: smut, angst and dumb shenanigans! warnings: dumb people even dumber plot by me <3 zoro is a pain in the ass. nsfw includes: oral (f!receiving), penetration, doin' the do raw, more angst and more shenanigans. did i mention zoro is a pain? yeah that. mdni, shoo now. wc: 9.4k [IM SORRY I PUT TOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT] m.list

13th of june, 10:02 a.m

"i didn't think you would come."

"me neither."

you felt dracule mihawk's gaze study you as if you were an opponent on the court, eyeing every little movement from the involuntary twitch of your fingers to the shallow breaths you heaved out. an unease crept against your throat and made a residence in there as you stood at the entrance to the kuraigana mansion, waiting for the retired world champion to say anything.

by anything, you didn't exactly expect pleasantries.

"how have you been?" mihawk's face eased, a shallow smile carving itself against his usual vampire-ish appearance.

"just fine." you replied back coolly, "and you, sir?"

"ah, you know, the usual. tournaments, training zoro." his words stilled at the mention of his moss-haired son-turned-student and he eyed you motionless face.

if mihawk wanted you to give away anything about how you felt about zoro, he was setting himself up for failure. although the mere mention of the man's name made your skin crawl and fill you with bugs, you simply smiled, "i heard he won the last men's singles in france, congratulations."

"the praise is reserved for the player, not me." mihawk stepped aside, slowly beckoning you in, "well, come on in, then."

you stepped after him into the castle-like mansion. kuraigana residence. the interiors were classic black and white with random, almost-haphazard pops of pink and purple sprinkled in, probably perona's influence on her otherwise classy father's tastes.

"looking for someone?" the man enquired, not turning around to look at you as he guided you through the main entrance.

"no." you replied quickly before putting on a faux smile, "just admiring the interiors. you have a wonderful home, sir."

"thank you. credit goes to that enigmatic child of mine, perona." the man replied modestly, now taking you through the main living room. the room was huge. littered with two black couches, a large flatscreen, coffee-table, a table tennis table that didn't match the aesthetic whatsoever, with art plastered on each otherwise barren, white wall.

"are you home alone?" mindlessly, you looked around again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain dreadful man.

"zoro is out with a couple of friends—"

"—i meant perona."

"well," mihawk sighed, now leading you into the gigantic kitchen, "you know her. she hates to stay home for more than two days. she's in milan right now, working with a label." he pointed to the seat near the marble kitchen island, "have you been in touch with perona?"

"no," you admitted casually as you sat atop one of the many seats, as he stood opposite to you on the other side of he island, "i mean, we follow each other on instagram, that's about it. we were never really close."

"i see." mihawk grabbed two wine-glasses, perching them on the table before pulling out a unopened wine bottle from the top cupboard, "wine?"

"i'm off alcohol for the season." you answered politely, and left out the fact that it was ten in the morning.

the man hummed a faint yes before pouring himself a glass full of familiar, maroon-hued liquid. he sipped in a drink, eyeing yourself before keeping the glass back on the marble, "well that's enough chit-chat, let's cut to the chase."

you perked up, elbows propped on the island as he continued, "i presume you got my mail."

"of course."

"then you know that i want you and zoro to team up for the upcoming doubles championship."

"i do." your fingers clasped together, chin resting atop them. you took a steadying breath, "and my answer is no."

mihawk crocked up an eyebrow as you continued, "it was always gonna be a no, sir. you are- were like a father to me, and that's the only reason i dignified your request with an actual visit. it does not change the fact that i will not team up with roronoa zoro."

"calling him by his legal name?" mihawk mused, "i thought he was 'zo to you. he only let you call him that, anyways."

that was in the past, though, wasn't it? years before he was number one in the men's category and you were at two in the women's category. years before he started pretending as if he had never known you. years before you showed up at his house only to turn down the offer to play alongside him.

"we are nothing more than strangers, i'm afraid."

the man hummed as he gulped down the rest of his drink alongside your words. as he poured himself another glass, he continued, "i have to be honest. my request is a bit more selfish than what i'm letting on."

he paused as you straightened up, "i'm retiring from the position of his coach after the doubles champions' tournament." you stared at the older man as he continued, "this is his last tournament with me as his coach."

"does zo- roronoa know?"

"not yet. he needs to focus on the game." mihawk shrugged, tipping his glass towards you, "and you and him both know i am at the age where i should move away to italy and open my own wine cellar, rather than running around on the court."

a laugh escaped you at the absurdity of mihawk's request, "what are you suggesting, sir? roronoa doesn't need me to win, he is capable enough to with with anybody."

he's the bloody number one, isn't he?

"you won the champions cup last year with that kid law, did you not? i would rather take the chances with you than somebody else."

you stilled, thinking of a flattering response before spewing out, "i only won because roronoa did not play last year, sir. the competition was slim, and me and law made a good team."

mihawk set his glass down, "don't try to sell yourself short. you are not inferior to zoro, we both know that."

maybe. but you would not team up with that bastard. not ever.

you dragged your seat backwards, standing up, "i am afraid it is still a no, sir. and if you do not want me as an opponent, i would happily withdraw from this year's tournament." you bowed, "thank you for having me over."

mihawk called out your name as you turned your back on him, "i would never beg, you know that. but zoro needs you to win." you looked over your shoulder at the older man, "and i need him to win this time, no matter what. do it for this old man, for old time's sake."

for old time's sake, is it?

you looked away from the man, letting his words turn sour against your skin. a sigh escaped you, "fine. we can discuss the details through my manager. but—" you turned around, casting a sharp glance at the coach, "—i am doing this only for your sake, mihawk. nothing more, nothing less."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

16th of june, 7:52 a.m.

three days later, you were clad in your practice set, and the duffel bag with your equipment felt heavier than usual in your right hand as you run the doorbell to the kuraigana residence.

the winds were unkind, the clouds were greying and ashy, a clear reflection of your spirit as a certain moss-head opened the door. your gaze tangled against his, and for a second you felt as if somebody punched you in the gut and left you paralysed, and a seventeen year old with a broken heart again.

he was so much prettier than he seemed on camera. tousled moss hair, a scar on his eye from when you were kids and a crooked smile that he gave the cameras when he won. fucking bastard. you couldn't wait to break a badminton racket on his stupid head. put him in a fucking coma.

so what if you both didn't win? you would kill him. yes, that will satiate your hunger. prison be damned.

a wayward shock running down your spine as you moved past him and inside the mansion. wordless.

"wh-what are you doing here?" his throat seemed to have gone dry as he hurriedly walked after you, carefully avoiding saying your name lest you were a demon he could summon.

"what?" you asked as you made your way to the living room, never once turning around lest you see his face and start punching him, "what do you mean why am i here? don't you know?"

"no?" irritation snipped at the raw edges of his words, "why are you here?"

your eyes widened in part amusement, part astonishment. is he dumb? is he actually clueless? that's roronoa zoro for you, i suppose.

"she's your partner." mihawk replied coolly from where he sat on the sofa, "for the mixed doubles campion's cup."

"HER?!" his voice cracked, eyes widening as he peered down at his own father, "DAD?!"

the annoyance in his voice set you aflame and you stared down at mihawk aswell, "you didn't tell him, sir?"

"well, i did." mihawk answered nonchalantly, sipping down wine slowly, "didn't i tell you, zoro? that your partner would be coming today to practice?"

"you didn't tell me it was her." he grumbled, and your blood pressure rose as you stared down mihawk, "sir, i would not team up with such a fucking idiot."

"zoro, do not behave like a hooligan—"

zoro whipped his neck to look at you, his jaw locked and eyes narrowed, "who are you calling a fucking idiot?"

you craned your neck to stare him down in return, "you."

zoro stepped forward towards his father and pointed accusatorily towards you, his earrings chiming ever-so-softly, "i am not teaming up with her."

"me neither." you grumbled, stepping forward to match his stance, "i take back what i said, i cannot partner up with him! he's insufferable."

but mihawk stared down the both of you and for a moment, you both were two sixteen year olds who just got caught making out in his room instead of adults in your twenties about to go for a international champion's cup.

"are you both gonna behave as adults or do i need to give you a stern lecture?" mihawk asked coolly.

"'m sorry, dad." zoro mumbled and you joined him as you both stared down at the floor, "i'm sorry too, sir."

the coach stood up, "apologize to each other. now."

zoro gave you a side-eye, "sorry."

"hm. sorry."

"much better. no animosity should linger between partners." mihawk put down the glass, "onto practicing we go, now. zoro lead her to the indoor court, i would be there soon."

indoor court? what the fuck.

zoro refused to dignify you with anything as you both walked through a maze of hallways that finally opened into a proper, full-sized indoor court.

"shit." you mumbled as you took in the open roof of the court. the grey overhead clouds casted a gloomy look on the court. zoro grumbled something under his breath before switching on a button which closed the metallic roof with a soft creak.

what the fuck.

well, soon enough, you realized two very important things: first, this mansion was insane. and second, roronoa zoro was number one for a reason.

you were heaving, chest rising and falling so rapidly that it felt as if your lungs and heart would burst inwards and paint you red. your calf muscles pulsed mercilessly as sweat dripped down your eyebrow and onto the flat plane of your cheeks. blinded by exhaustion, you tried to match the movements of the man opposite to you.

he was tired but he was graceful.

roronoa zoro was heaving, sweat trailing down his hair and neck and disappearing down his black shirt. but his gaze was focused, his steps ever-so-calculated as he ran from one end of the court to the other, and as he shot down the shuttle, the muscles in his bicep rippled and came alive with a strange delight.

"zoro, don't run so much. you have nothing to prove, you look like an idiot and you would exhaust yourself." mihawk noted, his voice booming between the sounds of the air being sliced by your shots and the soft sounds of pants and groans.

mihawk called out your name next, "do not restrain your arms. think of the racket as an extension of yourself, and allow your hands to move freely. hit harder. taking it easy gets us nowhere."

"i am trying." you grit through your teeth, trying to expend force as you hit back the shuttle with all your might.

zoro moved backwards, his arms being pulled back before he hit the shuttle back to your left. you attempted to run, to catch the shuttle before it fell to the court, but your right calf cramped up and your feet wobbled as you lost your footing and fell down.

"that's enough." mihawk concluded, "this is enough practice for today."

you allowed yourself to lay down on the court, holding your pulsating calf to your chest and panting through your mouth as the oxygen slowly flooded your muscles and eased your body up.

"are you okay?" mihawk asked you as he stood above you, peering you down with his hawk-like eyes. you nodded yes with a red face and tembling lips, assuring him you were fine.

as you stared up at the ceiling, you heard zoro pick up his duffel and walk out of the court without even as much of a "good game" or a "are you okay?" and it was crystal clear how far ahead roronoa zoro was, because you were on the ground trying to catch your breath while he was whistling and walking back to his room without as much of a water break.

fuck. lot of work to be done before you could kill that asshole.

"perhaps, you should stay here." mihawk suggested as you finally pulled yourself up and he offered you a bottle of water.

you spluttered on the liquid and some of it dribbled down your lips uncharacteristically, "wh-hat? here?"

"you would have to come in every morning," he answered back, "there is no point in travelling everyday now, is there? we have many spare bedrooms."

"i-" you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, looking up at the coach with furrowed brows, "i don't know, sir."

"we have spare rooms in the west wing, and zoro's room is in the east wing." mihawk crossed his arm, "the rest is your decision, of course."

you sighed, "is it really my decision?"

"no. a room has been set for your already." mihawk shrugged, "i thought you would agree for this old man's sake."

"jesus fucking christ, you're good at emotional blackmailing."

8:31 p.m.

"i don't understand why she's here." zoro grumbled as he munched on his dinner.

"because it is pointless for her to come and go every day," mihawk dabbed his lips with a white cloth, "and do not talk when you're eating."

"so i need to see her face everyday?"

"can you stop talking about me as if i'm not here?" you glared at man sitting opposite to you, "i don't want to see you face everyday either."

zoro smiled so politely that it made you want to rip his hair out of his scalp with a kitchen knife. prison be fucking damned.

"then, leave."

"i swear on any god—"

"—what? what do you swear? if you're asking favours from god, maybe ask for getting better at badminton." the man scoffed, thoroughly happy with his own little jab.

"mihawk," you glared daggers at zoro, "if i kill roronoa, would you turn me in to the police?"

"of course he will." zoro squinted.

you squinted back at the athelete, "no, he can just adopt me and forget about you instead. he likes me better, anyways."

"oh, does he?" zoro quipped up rhetorically and mihawk shrugged, dabbing his lips before admitting a casual "she is quite lovely."

"dad!—"

a cashmere grin, eyes never leaving the athlete. "thank you, sir."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

3rd of august, 11:07 a.m.

the next few weeks were a strange repetition, days filled only with three characteristic things: first, you woke up at five in the morning, practiced with a very-angry zoro (because god knows how much he resents those five am alarms) till you were about to pass out. second, ate food that their divinely gifted chef made. and third, bickered with zoro like a child.

"who the fuck puts a table-tennis table in the living room? money clearly cannot buy some sense of design." you glared at him as he glared right back at you. mihawk was out, the house was eerily quiet and you two had just finished up with the first practice session of the day, the adrenaline still pumping high through your mortal bodies.

"how do you know i put it in here?"

"'cause perona actually understands decor? you are the directionless idiot."

"okay. not that i have to explain to you but— first of all, it's practical for when my friends come over." he paused, thinking, "oh, do you know what friends are? they are people that voluntarily hang out with you and like—"

"oh, so funny." you mockingly laughed before crossing your arms in front of your chest. the sportsman momentarily stared down at your chest. jesus christ. he was reeled back into reality, quickly looking away and pretending to hit a mosquito. there are no mosquitoes here. a blushed crept up his face, to the tips of his ears, "yeah, i know. i'm funny."

"doesn't excuse your poor fucking decor skills."

"well, for starters, i can do what i want because it's my house—"

"—your dad's."

"and you are living in my house."

"because your dad asked me to because he likes me better."

"i-" his jaw was clenched shut as he stepped forward. his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath ragged as his gaze slowly cascaded down to your lips. his breath staggered helplessly, eyes quickly darting upwards to stare you in the eyes, "why don't you go and practice? get on my fucking level instead of bitching and moaning about meaningless shit?"

ah, you had almost forgotten how quickly his saccharine words turned sour. you had almost forgotten how well-versed roronoa zoro was in destruction, whether at the court or with your heart.

a certain ache built up in your chest as you pushed him back, and for a moment you both were sixteen, having your first fight all over again. except he was taller now, his eyes hardened and his tongue sharp enough to cut through you instead of kissing you sweetly and making amends.

your lips trembled, glaring up at him as you stepped closer to the man you had once been disillusioned enough to believe you knew, "fuck you, roronoa."

"roronoa? we're being formal now?" he stared down at you, eyes boring down in yours as he held himself off with barely tangible threads of sanity. his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again, "didn't realize that's what you called me."

"i call you nothing, let me make that clear. we are not friends nor acquaintances, strangers is all."

well, strangers don't know how it feels to kiss someone in a poorly-lit room and taste of reckless first-times and childhood innocence, they do not know of each other's long-forgotten dreams, and they certainly don't look at each other as if the only thing holding them back was their own wounded prides.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his bicep as your quick steps led you away from him and into the room you had temporarily come to call home.

fuck roronoa zoro.

11:02 p.m.

you refused to go out of your room for lunch, or for dinner for that matter.

had you been a greater woman, perhaps you would have walked out, kept that conversation behind you for the next two and a half weeks, and simply focus on winning. had you been a lesser woman, perhaps you would have locked your door and cried into your sheets about anything and everything roronoa zoro.

but you did neither.

you sat on your bed and stared down the spotless ceilings, trying to come up with ideas to kill that man without ever getting caught. well no, prison be damned. orange wasn't such an awful colour anyways. if trump could make it work, so could you.

your phone buzzed, and the low rumbling pulling you out of the symphony of wicked thoughts that begged you to either go kill zoro or kiss him so hard that he forgets he belongs to this mortal plane — both ideas that would ultimately land you playing a gamble with death. you picked up the device only to come face-to-face with an email from your manager asking for updates.

to: [email protected]: [email protected] do you want me to kill him? for legal reasons, this is a joke. update me on how things go. don't lose your radiance over that moss-head.

"fuck," your voice was soft as your feet hit the carpeted floors, eyes locked at the time. 11:02.

although your pride held up to the resolve to starve yourself of any human contact, your stomach sadly didn't wish to comply. an embarrassing rumble made you well-aware of your hunger and you decided with a defeated sigh to go down and beg the chef for whatever he could make you at this time of the night.

you walked to the door, opening it slowly as you came face to face with—

"you?" your pupils were blown wide open, taking in a the image of a guilty-looking zoro halfway-crouched at your door, "you."

your palm found purchase against your hips, face in an easy scowl, "what the fuck do you want, now?"

"nothing?" he argued back haughtily, pulling himself to his feet hastily, "i- i was going to the bathroom."

"on the opposite wing of the mansion?" your eyes drifted down to his hands where he held a white plastic bag, "with a whole grocery bag in your hand?"

"yes?" he clutched the bag tighter, "and it's none of your business."

you gave him a look he was well-versed in. a look that practically begged him to drop this act of nonchalance and come clean. a look roronoa zoro crumbled under.

the sportsman shifted on his feet, his eyes drifting downwards to your feet as he slowly held out the bag towards you. when he spoke, his voice was matter-of-factly, "you didn't eat today."

"huh?—" you clutched the plastic in your palms, peering down to look at two packets of familiar cup noodles, a six pack of beer and a toblerone thrown in for good measure. you looked up at the man as a strange feeling made home in your veins. warmth?

you stared at the packaging, dumbfounded, "cup noodles?"

"i- i don't know if you still like these ones." he admitted softly, gaze still avoiding yours, "but i heard you said you liked these in... in one of those interviews in the last women's singles, uh the one in tokyo—"

"you watched my match?"

his fingers twitched, "no. whatever, if you don't like it, i can just take it away—"

"—how did you think i did?"

the tokyo finals were against the number one in the female category: boa hancock. beauty, grace, talent: everything good and holy found a home in her, it seemed. because at the end of the match, she defeated you with a neck-to-neck match. your 20 points to rival her 22 points. her number one title to rival your number two.

roronoa zoro finally met your eyes, a proud wayward glint in his eyes that gnawed at your insides, and a simple "you did good."

"i lost."

"doesn't refute the fact that you did good."

"if i had done good, i would have won."

"don't talk bullshit." he crossed his arms, eyebrow arched and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. the muscle bulged under his navy blue shirt, earrings glittering cautiously in the dim light as his words cut through your flimsy counterattacks, "you did well, so, take the compliment. it's not about winning, it's about getting better. you did way better than last year's sweden semi-finals."

"you saw sweden too?" you asked softly, the disbelief in your voice evident in your face, tainting your pretty features a murky shade of confused.

but zoro refused to answer what was obvious, instead rambling on about the actual game, "your shots have gotten a lot more crisper since sweden. your breath control has gotten better, and your wrist work too. not to mention that—"

"—roronoa." you halted him, "what if you lose this tournament 'cause of me?"

"we're playing as a team. if we win, we both win. if we lose, we both lose." he didn't bother comforting you. just laid the truth bare in front of you, "simple as that."

"would you... hate me? if we lost, i mean?"

his face shifted, something inkling to the ghost of a smile on his lips, "how could i ever hate you?"

what the fuck.

your gaze betrayed you as it found a home against his lips. you mind begged for answers. why did he know all that, how did he know all that, why did he fucking care? and most importantly why were you not listening to his helpful advice, instead admiring his pretty eyes and the scar that ran across them.

zoro stopped himself, features going still as he propped himself back and stood up straight. he cleared his throat and hid his features under an usual cloak of nonchalance. the sportsman nodded to the plastic bag, "just eat, and sleep soon. we need to be up early. don't think dad's gonna let us off the hook cause we were fighting in the middle of the night."

you stared at him, a furious blush building up in your cheeks, "right, thanks." you looked down at the contents again, "but you brought me two packs and six beers?"

"and a toblerone." scrambling to find an excuse, the mosshead tripped over his own words, "i– well, i mean you must be hungry. are you not? of course, you are, right? if you don't want it, you don't have to eat it."

"no, it's just— uh, do you wanna come in?" you paused, "i... don't think I can finish six beers alone."

he stood before you dumbstruck. 5'10 of muscle and flesh and skin, standing before you with a flabbergasted look in his eyes. as if he didn't want that with every inch of his body and soul. but he was a man of great restraint, so, he shook his head, "thanks, but uh— we both need to be up early tomorrow."

your throat went dry, your words as it barely audible, "of course, see you."

"hm, yeah. g'night." he grew awkward, thumbing his earring just to have something to do, "i just didn't want you to get the wrong idea— like you know, we shouldn't fight among ourselves—"

"—no animosity between partners, as mihawk says?"

"something like that, yeah." he sighed, and you found yourself being kicked in the face by whatever self-esteem you had left. of course, he was just making amends. your wretched heart and it's stupid daydreams be damned. "okay then, i'm sorry for the morning. and uh, 'night."

"'night." he turned, ready to leave and his name left your lips before you could register what was happening, "zoro—?"

he turned around immediately, an apprehensive plea in his eyes, "yeah?"

"i—" you fished for the chocolate and held it in your hands, "you can have this, i don't really like it."

he took the bar, ideally turning it in his palm, "i thought you liked these?"

"used to. five years ago. i'm not seventeen anymore." you pressed your lips into a thin line, "people change."

"uh, yeah, i guess they do." a pause, "or maybe they... don't?"

that was the last (luke)warm conversation you had with roronoa zoro. days passed you by as did a rigorous, drilling schedule. wake up, practice, practice, practice, sleep. but hey! two and a half weeks of this and you would walk home with another champion's cup to your name, so, how bad can it possibly be?

that moss-for-brains asshole was a problem for two and a half week later you. yes. indeed. indeed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

21st of august, 9:51 a.m.

you let out a shuddering breath, adrenaline pumping through your veins and hands gripping the handle tighter. you took a step backward, positioning yourself as zoro stood to your right, ready to serve the shot.

the sound of his racket slicing the air rang through the court as the shuttle made it's way over the net and onto your opponent's side. the woman in front of you lunged forward, shooting the shuttle back towards you.

mixed doubles champion's cup. barcelona, spain. finals. you and roronoa zoro vs. ino takuma and nobara kugisaki. your 19 points vs. their 17 points in the third round. just two more and you'd win the cup.

your arm pulled backwards, right foot behind your left, head tipped back as you smashed the shuttle back into their side towards where ino stood, ready. the shuttle whirled past his racket by a hairsbreadth and fell down on the court.

"20 love." the umpire announced pointing to you and zoro, and then to the rival team, "17 love."

just one more.

"fuck yeah." zoro gave you a feral smile. his hair was drenched, sweat slowly dripping off of his jawline. he moved forward, a new shuttle in his palm and he got ready to serve again, the jersey with roronoa on it crinkled and sticking to his back. he looked over his shoulder, giving you a nod, "ready?"

"fuckin' hope so." you huffed out, nodding slowly and backing to take your position.

the shuttle left your side of the court, tearing through air and onto their side. the air was tense, the audience growing impatient as both the teams lunged to their left and right to land definitive shots. ino takuma took a step back, jumping upwards as he delivered a smash that whirled past your cheekbone and landed on the court, "fuck."

"18 love." the umpire declared, "and 20 love."

just one more.

you walked over to zoro, and he wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand. his face was angled downwards, words right against the shell of your ear, "'s fine, we're leading. we're winning."

just one more.

the next few minutes were a battle on the court. flicks of wrist, sweat trailing down your back, the feel of feet shuffling on court as you and zoro worked in sync. his shots to your steps and your shots to his, as the team opposite to you kept up their assault.

your feet moved to their own accord, skidding forward before you jumped upwards. your racket made contact with the shuttle and you smacked it down with every bit of force you had. your breath was caught in your throat, heart beating loudly, blood rushing past your eardrums as you saw kugisaki fumble and drop the shuttle.

just one more.

a roar went through the audience, mihawk yelling out in an uncharacteristic manner, and you found yourself sinking to your knees. the court felt cold and sturdy against your knees, relief washed over your shuddering form and wayward tears pooled at the edge of your eyes. your gaze lifted up, and within the blindness from the overhead lighting, you found zoro giving you the smallest of nods with a reckless smile plastered to his lips.

and then roronoa zoro proceeded to ignore you for the rest of the evening. the problem for two and a half week later you was here. fuck.

12:44 p.m.

you glanced at the man next to you through your eyelashes. how he looked annoyed and shook his head, how those cursed earrings chimed as he answered a question that the press asked, how he ignored you for the nth hour of the night.

the fucker didn't even thank you or appreciate you to your face the entire day. what a bitch.

"is it true, then?" the reporter's bangs moved enthusiastically, "are the rumors of you dating true? everyone seems to notice that the air seems charged between the two of you."

"of course not," zoro leaned into the mic, his eyes boring holes into that reporter before he chased it away with a polite smile, "those are just rumors. we're just partners." he looked at you once, twice, "right?"

"yeah." you answered, monotone. "just rumors. having him in the same team was taxing enough for me, mentally. i cannot imagine him as a boyfriend."

the reporter grinned, as if having found something worth exaggerating, "so, was having him as a partner hard? would you say law was much better?" as the mention of the brunette, you noticed zoro pick up one of the water-bottles in front of him and attempt to crush it. the reporter paused, "and you, roronoa? was it hard for you too?"

"well, we've had our differences." he crossed his arms, letting go of the poor, unassuming bottle. was he hoping his biceps would distract the crowd of rightfully-thirsty ladies? slut.

"but the most important part of any doubles game is team-work." he continued, without even giving you half a glance, "and without her, i would have failed to win. that much is for sure."

"isn't that sweet?" the woman cooed.

isn't that sweet? no. no it is not.

"so would you partner up with each-other? are we gonna see more of this dynamic duo?"

"ah," zoro looked at you, at a loss of words. you leaned into the mic, plastering on a smile, "we'd see where fate leads us."

12:03 a.m.

fate led you here.

you stared at your phone as another headline caught your eye: turns out badminton is more than a clash of rackets, it's a clash of hearts! find our the story of roronoa zoro and his partn—

the only clashing will be of a plate against that bastard's head.

you scrolled further, just to run into another headline: roronoa zoro admits feelings in press conference after the match. click to—

your fingers hovered over the link, almost opening the headline just to confirm if they saw the same press conference as you. cause there were no feelings anywhere there. right? right.

then another: love island? no! it's the champion's cup! catch the story of team-mates turned lovers—

"—what bullshit." you huffed, scrutinizing the photo under the headline that depicted you looking at zoro as he answered some question with the caption "lovesick gaze."

you threw your phone to the side and it bounced twice before falling fce-down. a pathetic groan left your lips as you dragged your palm over your face.

you should be celebrating, getting drunk somewhere maybe? or you should be sleeping, feeling satisfied after the big win. instead, you were rotting in your bed, staring at the ceilings wondering what was the easiest way to ensure you never saw your ex again. this was a one time affair, after all. all because mihawk asked you—

knock knock knock.

your feet hit the wooden floors, absentmindedly walking to the door. did you order room service? maybe they wanted to give you a cake to celebrate you? or—

"—r-roronoa?" your words died in your throat as you stared down the man in front of you. he was dressed in a casual navy t-shirt and black sweats. his hair was wet, strands sticking to his forehead, and he held a bored look on his face. "do you want something?"

"can i come in?"

he looked tipsy.

"ye- no? no." you paused, a tsunami of emotions building within you. you were supposed to get away from him! "i need to sleep. it's late."

"this won't take long." his brows furrowed, eyes softened, "i promise."

you hesitantly stepped to the side, allowing for your former partner to step in. a sigh fell past your lips as you closed the door and locked it shut.

"what is it?" you asked, and your breath hitched as zoro stepped closer. his arm on either side of you as he peered down at you as if he would devour you whole. "w-what? roronoa."

"did you hear what they're publishing 'bout us?" his words felt like thunder against your soft skin.

"no," your face grew hot with the impossible possibility that somehow he knew what you were browsing minutes before he came. you blinked up at him. careful. "what are they saying?"

he scoffed, and stepped back, "that we're lovers. it's stupid."

you looked down at the wooden floors, goosebumps erupting across your body at the fleeting contact, "it's just gossip, it'll die down. don't worry."

"i guess." he sighed, running a hand across his face. he didn't meet your gaze, muttering a cowardly "i am gonna go, then."

"what?" you looked up at him, the fiery feeling in your body turning to soot and ash, "that is all?"

"yeah?"

"you don't wanna say anything else?" you found yourself walking forward, and he stepped back to maintain the distance. a glare crossed your pretty face, "this is it?"

"did i do something?" zoro looked from your eyes to your lips to your unrelenting steps towards him, "hey, woman?"

"hey, woman?" your brows furrowed, exasperated words tumbling past you and clashing against his stone-cold exteriors, "fucking hey, roronoa? hey! how are you!— are you fucking for real?"

you stopped a mere inches away from him, index finger jabbed against his solar plexus. you looked up at him, eyes filled to the brim with mirth as you found his, "y-you didn't even fucking thank me! or say congrats— or any fucking thing."

"i didn't?" he tried to ask but the dam of your emotions was open, the ugly and grotesque that were buried within your mortal body for five years toppling over each other till they turned even more vile, "shut up."

"after all you've done and said five years prior, i thought you would have the fucking decency to end it on a good note this time around." you scoffed, eyes boring into his, "i was fucking wrong. you can never change. you'd always be roronoa zoro, the star player. and i'd be the fool that waited on you."

your name made past his lips, eyes closing as he tried to fend himself off.

"—oh now you're using my name? after two fucking months?" the laugh that you choked out was barely a laugh. you jabbed the finger deeper against his muscled body with every stressed syllable, "you left. you fucking left me. just. like. that."

"let me explain. we were seventeen—"

"—shut up. i wake up one morning, and you're gone. you fucking left town and the next i see of you, you're on the national news winning bronze in olympics." a humorless laugh, "and all that after you said you loved me."

"i still do."

"fuck you, roronoa."

"that's not what you call me." he breathed out slowly, fingers finding purchase against your wrist and bringing your hand upwards to press a chaste kiss, "that's not my name."

"fuck you, zoro." you spat out, and your fingers pulled his face downwards and towards you. you halted, your lips a hairsbreadth away from his, and he decided to close the distance by crashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

his hands skimmed over every inch of your body, never staying one place for too long — from the back of your neck to your hips — as he drunk down any unruly noises. your fingers dug deeper against his cheeks, pulling him into your impossibly closer.

"i hate you." you whispered through the fury of kisses, as the man dragged himself downwards and placing kisses across your neck. his teeth sunk against your pulse and you whimpered as he soothed the spot with another messy kiss, "i know."

all teeth and spit and broken resolves as you pushed him backwards till he fell atop your bed.

"i hate you." your body felt like lead, as if each action was one step forward to your untimely demise.

"i know." he propped himself up, face titling upwards as you sinfully teased him. your face so close to his, so pretty as you just barely kissed him, but never getting too close lest you lose control and allow your wicked fantasies to run amok.

"don't tease." he grinned — the savage kind — as a hand came up to pull your face downwards. his fingers were firm against the hollow of your cheeks and the kiss, bruising. as if he wanted to do enough damage to make up for the past five years.

"we sh- we shouldn't." you whined into the kiss as his fingers danced under your tshirt, teasing the skin with brief contact before swiping a leisurely thumb across your perky nipples. he pulled back, face flushed as his deft fingers pulled the hem of your tshirt upwards, "don't lie. you want this."

"don't get cocky." you glared daggers at him but complied nonetheless. your fingers softly over his as he dragged your oversized tshirt upwards. his breath hitched, eyes locked on how your skin erupted into goosebumps and perked up. he leaned forward, soft lips around your hardened nipple and he hummed at the contact, "'m not gettin' cocky."

you keened into his touches, fingers pulling his still damp hair, which only prompted him to suck harder, and then chased it with a soft kiss. but you grew impatient, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, "off."

"yes ma'am."

your fingers grabbed ahold of his jaw, tipping it backwards as you took him in. the damp hair stuck to his nape, gaze half-lidded and lips parted as he looked up at you. your gaze hardened, words caught in the thick air between you two, "this means nothing."

zoro took his shirt off, his hands pulling your warm ones to his torso. he nodded slowly, uttering false promises between open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, "nothing at all."

"i- i mean it," you whispered, your fingers tracing up and down the rigid plane of muscles and skin. your chest pressed against his as his hands snaked around your waist, "i know, baby." hot kisses smothered against your skin, "i know."

and world's number one had you pinned under him. hovering over you, the damp strands hanging loosely to frame his face. your face burned up as he traced the tip of his index finger across your face, then slowly dragged across your skin from your chest to your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts.

your hips bucked up as he thumbed the skin above the said waistband, "z-zoro."

"what do you want? tell me." his warm, calloused palms massaged your inner thighs, spreading them open to put up a show for himself. he swiped your clothed core, "wet already?"

"fuck off." a smug grin crept across his lips, head dipping down to press kisses to your exposed skin as his fingers dragged down the waistband and took off those layers off of you. he stared up, hands growing rougher, impatient, "tell me, what do you want?"

you squirmed as he continued pressing kisses, carefully avoiding your needy core. "i-" you clenched your eyes shut, embarrassment sewing itself against your skin. you mumbled, "don't make me say it."

"i need to hear ya." he licked a languid stripe, collecting the honeyed slick on the tip of your tongue. maybe he had less resolve than he had assumed, because at once he found himself licking fat strips up and down, catching your trembling bud between his lips and sucking. you tasted of divinity and sin all wrapped in one woman and he found himself at your altar, nothing more than a helpless man.

and just like that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"fuck." he hummed against you, lapping at you like a man starved. his eyes stayed train on you, gaze fixated as he watched you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your back. you were so pretty. it made him ache from within, something primal that made him dive into your divine cunt nose-deep and rut against the mattress like a man who knew no patience.

when roronoa zoro pulled back, you saw a man devoid of any and all trace of rationality. he was a demon ready to devour you whole. or die trying.

he held himself back, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs and hips lest he couldn't control himself. out of breath, out of mind, "tell me."

"wan' you." you mumbled, shying away from him. squirming, trying to pull away from his iron-grip on your thighs, trying, "need you t-to fuck me."

"louder." he met your eyes in a challenge, and you rivaled his stare, "fuck me."

the kiss he lay atop your hip bone was impossibly soft, his voice even more soft, "on it."

he licked quick stripes, drinking you down like you were some forbidden nectar. words barely audible as he put two fingers in your mouth. a moment later, his fingers were drilling into you. experienced hands thrusting up into you, hitting that one gummy spot over and over and over and over—

"z— ohmygod ohmygod oh—" you tried to catch your breath, tried to make sense of the situation but the mosshead caught your pulsating clit against his lips, humming and ramming into you like a mad man. watching you as you fell apart on his tongue and fingers.

twitching, bucking up, trying to run away from him as his fingers fucked you senseless. trying to run away from him?

he pulled you towards himself, putting his weight on top of your hips. you cannot run away. "don't run, don't run. not when i just got you."

"z-zoro— stop, stop it." you cried into the air, head lolling backwards as he continued his assault on your poor pussy.

"what?" he asked, gaze predatory as he continued pumping in and out of you, "see how she's gripping me? she wants me 'sbad." he thrust up harder, fingers playing against that one spot, and your body tried to turn left, to run away. but he wouldn't let you. he pulled his fingers back, just to fuck into you harder, "see. wants me so, so bad."

zoro pressed a hungry kiss to your clit, "am i taking good care of her?"

and all you could do was grip the sheets and withstand the pleasure as another tsunami built in your lower stomach. his thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing the little nub, "answer me."

and the pressure built and built within you. tugging on your insides harshly, as he toyed with you and your aching pussy. and then it all came crashing down. spotless white washed over your eyes, head lolling back, fingers gripping the sheets so hard and a silent scream caught in your throat.

when he pulled back, his jaw was drenched, hair damp and eyes maddened. through his tunnel-vision, he found you spent on the bed. eyes clenched shut blissfully, hair tangled 'neath you, and reddened lips.

when you had the courage to open your eyes and look up at him. fuck. how dare you do that to a man? your eyes were watery, lips trembling as you told him "i can't." and roronoa zoro decided it was as good time as any to fuck you to the point of breaking.

and now he had your legs pushed to your ears, the mushroom tip dragging itself against your walls. a groan past his lips as he hooked his arm under one leg, fucking into you with all the patience in the world. so slow, so patient, so fucking agitating.

your nails dug crescent moons into his biceps, huffing out a, "f-faster, c'mon."

"hm?" his eyebrows bunched, face falling into almost a pout, "faster? think you can handle it?"

"shu-shut up ngh—" a gasp came alive as he thrust into you faster, before slowing down his pace and toying with you again. a delirious grin came to his lips as you whined out, "ugh zoro."

"just remember," he pulled it out till his tip barely kissed your entrance, and rammed it back in, "you asked for this."

and now you were pushing the same nails in his biceps, gasping as he fucked into you with abandon. he pressed kisses to your thighs, to your knees, to any part of you that was accessible to him. hot breath fanning over your skin as his dick pumped in and out of you.

"'fuck, 'zo—" he hissed like it hurt, thrusting harder at the nickname. his pace was bruising, intentions to destroy you, "say that again."

"wh-what?" you played dumb.

strong hands came up to manhandle you to sit you atop him. searing hands on your hips as he moved you up and down his cock. a stutter made past your lips as you fell forward at the sudden change in position. hands bracing themselves against the hard muscle, you bit down on your lips, eyes rolling back, "i— fuck f-fuck, zo."

balls slapping against your ass, the sound of skin on skin deafening enough between his groans and your gasps. his grip on your unforgiving as you he helped you downwards each time to meet his erratic thrusts.

heaving, sweat trailing down his bow, your nails digging into his chest as you hugged him so sinfully tight. what were you doing to this poor man and his sanity? spasming, clenching around him, unforgiving, as he rammed upwards into you.

"i-i'm gon' cum—"

"yeah?" he breathed out, eager fingers coming to tease your puffy clit. sporadic swipes of his thumb against the aching nub, raising himself up to slowly bite down on the column of your throat, "cum f'me."

"ohmygod ohmygod zo—" head thrown back, you choked back sobs of his name as the white-hot pleasure built in your stomach and released all over his abs and chest, "fu-fuck ngh sh-shit, zoro!"

you, covered in your own essence, head thrown back, hair sticking to your chest and back, face flushed, eyes clenched shut. you.

zoro turned you around, your helpless moans trapped against the pillow as his heel dug into the dirtied mattress, and he drilled his cock into you harder and harder and harder. no rhythm, no reason as he chased his own high within you.

your overstimulated cunt spasmed around him, hugging his curved dick like you were milking him for all he was worth. fuck. fuck. fuck.

"ah— fuck." he groaned in the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick a languid stripe at the base of your ear as you felt his hips stutter, emptying within you.

his sweaty body stilled above yours, pressing you down into the sticky mattress. a moment later, he heaved out a content sigh and pulled it out. hitched breaths, a new wave of need building within him as he stared at the milky white gushing out of your pretty cunt.

mindlessly, his fingers pushed back the creamy white back into your poor, trembling hole. he swiped at your clit one last time, and you jolted under his torturous touches. a whine into the pillow, hips bucking away from him. you warned him, "zo."

"hah, sorry." he grinned, amused at your compliant state, before collapsing next to you.

you raised your flushed face, dazed eyes finding his pretty face next to you. he looked so pretty, it hurt. his flushed face illuminated by the soft lighting from the bedside lamps, the earrings glinting as they chimed softly against his skin, the soft smile that tugged at his lips.

this was roronoa zoro, the star player.

his fingers slowly came up to your face, pushing the damp hair strands backwards. the same fingers then traced over your nose, and your bottom lips.

and there was you, the fool that always stayed.

"zo... zoro." you pulled away from his skimming touches, "you— uh, what's the time?"

you looked away from him to pick up your phone: 2:11 a.m.

"it's late." shutting the phone, you didn't turn to look at him. what if he called out your name, looked at you, persuaded you? softly, you whispered into the heady air, "you should go back to your room. it's late, and i wanna sleep."

"wh- what are you doin'?" his hands ran over your arms, desperate touches bringing you back flush against his naked chest.

"zoro." you turned to look at him, eyes barely able to hold his steady gaze, "i-" you sucked in a breath, eyes tracing downwards to stare down his tan chest, "this meant nothing, you know that."

a scoff, "are—" the expression died, eyes widening, "should i actually leave?"

you nodded before pulling back from him, "go."

"please, just listen to me—" he sat up, shoulders squaring up as if he was ready to put up a combat for that explanation. his fingers years to touch yours, "i can explain."

you pulled your hand back, holding them against your chest. your resolved hardened. this was roronoa zoro, the star player. and this was you, and you were on your goddamn level now. no longer the fool that stuck around.

"go back to your room, rorona."

"r-roronoa? it's 'zo, for you." he begged, shifting to turn fully towards, "listen to me just once."

you shook your head, "no explanation will be good enough—"

"—i couldn't say goodbye to you. or i would have never felt like leaving that town." he pleaded, hands coming up to cradle your cheek, "and that town was a dead-end for my career. i had to leave—"

"then, leave right now as well. you're good at that shit, anyways."

"please—"

"leave."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

22nd of august, 12:03 p.m.

when you saw roronoa zoro at the checkout counter, you pretended he didn't exist. he was dead. to you, anyways.

the mosshead didn't bother making conversation, too busy comprehending the reality where you didn't even bother looking at him twice. not even as you clutched the LV in your hands tighter, and walked out through the glass doors and out where your driver waited for you.

the chants of your name stopped you dead in your tracks as a swarm of reporters stood to your left, being held off by the hotel security. the swarm of cameras, notepads and haunting questions being pushed back by men in black, pristine suits.

"is it true?!" a shrill, familiar voice caught your attention. you dragged your shades upwards, giving the reporter from yesterday a compliant smile, "is what true?"

"that you and roronoa zoro are together?!"

your eyebrow twitched, and you dragged the sunglasses downwards. the world was tinted a dark brown, and you put on another polite smile. that bastard be damned. "n—"

"yeah." the jock called out, a self-satisfying smile on his face as he stood behind you. his arm came to wrap around you, flesh against flesh feeling familiar as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, "got a problem with that?"

you whipped to look at the man that had come to become the bane of your existence and the object of your desires. but before you knew what was happening, you were being ushered by his 5'10 self into the car backseat. when you came back to reality, the car was already was on the highway and zoro was looking out the window as if he didn't just do that.

"what the fuck?!" your voice was shrill, "what the fuck, roronoa? what did you just do?!"

"it's good for publicity." he replied, solemnly. "my manager told me to do that."

"which deranged bastard is your manager?" you fisted your hand, the leather handle of the purse almost disintegrating under the intensity. glaring at him with murderous intent, you choked out a, "tell me now and i'll get sanji to murder him."

"her." zoro corrected, "name's nami. she's the best in the game."

"you're dead, roronoa."

"ah, no i'm not." he grinned, a mad man. "cheer up, babe. we have appearances to keep up."

what the fuck.

a/n: hello. uh, i have nothing to say except i just really wanted to write this 🤡. not proofread cause its uhm 10k words. nobody's gonna read this shit anyways, i think. if you've read this whole, THANK YOU!!! MWUAH MWUAH MAY BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW BE COLD AND YOU GET TO EAT SOMETHING GOOD <3 part two? yes, i wanna. roronoa zoro being a menace is my favourite gender. [psss, if you've sent in requests, girlie IM TRYING IM SORRY. may lord give me strength, and i may give you some fics!] tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock because ur the only one with enough strength to read this. thankyou so much for putting up with my bs <3 m.list

#one piece #the op aus series <3 #opla #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader smut #zoro #zoro opla #op zoro #op

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ajortga · 10 months ago

Text

i forgive you.

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

based off a request! i feel like when i write angst i don't feel my stomach stir when i reread mine, but i feel it when i read others. so i don't know if my angst just doesn't have that spark that i hope it did? do you guys feel it when you read this? 😭

hope that this met what you wanted!

i was thinking of an angst with jenna x femreader? it could be when jenna has been overworked, comes home with reader preparing her something bc she misses her terribly, jenna pouring out her anger into her?

ending is entirely up to you, bad or good, idm!! as always, take your time fav author💕

Music blasted through your headphones as you swept the floor, throwing pillows on top of the couch perfectly.

You missed your girlfriend. You missed Jenna.

She was filming, not too far from you, an hour or two, but even though she wasn’t too far, you couldn’t come on set when they filmed. There were days she would come home exhausted.

Everyday you missed her, you missed her hugs, her kisses. You missed baking with her and falling asleep on her chest almost every night.

Jenna always had time for you, even as an actress, you knew it too that she loved you from the moon and back.

But her schedules were busy with upcoming movies around this time, you barely got to talk to her as much, let alone even see her. There were sleepless nights when Jenna wouldn’t burst into the apartment with you running into her arms.

You were drained at the end of most days, not being able to have the warm blanket that can’t compare to no other, Jenna. And as much as you’d long to tell her, you just couldn’t. You didn’t want her to see you as someone just as stressful as her work.

So all you could do was wait, you felt like if you somehow had your headphones on everyday, she’d have them on one of the times you wore them. It made you feel a little better, at least you might be doing something together. There were endless crumpled pieces in your personal room with smeared ink on them. Each of them you wrote when you missed her. You think you wrote at least one every day the moon passed your city and dawn broke. Your writing somehow never faltered, even when you were writing about the same thing every single time.

The endless poetic letters and writings crumbled in the palm of your hand, scattered in a box standing in front of your desk. You couldn’t help it. You felt sad. And the thing was, the only thing that made you happy was the one thing you can’t get at the end of the day without waiting.

The sun peeked through the curtains corner, the orange yellow brightness beginning to set.

Your legs kicked up and down, opening the Amazon package you ordered a few days prior, unboxing it and taking out the bubble wrap that crunched and popped as you unwrapped it. Your eyes laid upon the heart framed picture of you in Jenna’s arms. Your fingertips lightly switched on the button as the edges of the heart lit up one by one until it shone a bright pink in the midst of your dim lit apartment.

You felt your lips curve into a smile and your heart squeeze, hugging the frame. It’ll all be over soon. When it’s over, you’ll be in the embrace of your sweet Jenna.

In the meantime, you made some red velvet cookies, something you did whenever you were a little sad or stressed.

As they came out of the oven, the cookie dough lifted from the heat and you shaped it in a perfect circle. Then, you piped your cream cheese frosting on the top and sprinkled the leftover red velvet cookie crumbs on top. It was something that always made you happy. Because somehow red velvet was always made when you weren’t.

A red plate was placed on the coffee table along with pretty flowers in a vase, seven of your heart-shaped red velvet cookies placed on it. The 8th and 9th? You may have eaten them to cure missing your girlfriend’s warm hugs.

The sun begins to fade as you hear the lock of your apartment click.

Your ears perk up, and so does your dog, Mabel’s. You immediately turn your head as you slowly lift from the couch, your dog seeming to get the hint as he barks playfully. Jenna.

Jenna.

And the door opens as you squeak out your girlfriend’s name happily, seeing her small figure standing at the door as you immediately run up to her. Jenna giggles, her body a bit tense and loosening as you hug her, her arms wrapping around you.

“Hi baby,” she says, a little bit of tiredness staining in her voice as you hug her and don’t want to let go.

“You’re home.” You whisper, tears almost brimming in your eyes from the happiness.

She pulls away, giving a hesitant smile as she kisses your forehead lightly, “Mhm. I missed you.” She yawned.

“I missed you so much.” You murmur, “I really hated not seeing you every morning.”

There's something in her eye, but you don’t know what. Stress? Relief? Annoyance? Drowsiness?

“I have so much work to do,” she states plainly, rubbing your back, “I have to answer so many emails and talk with some companies that want to do advertisements. So much is on my plate.”

You didn’t want to say the way your heart slowly dropped. You didn’t expect your girlfriend that you missed dearly for months to come back and just expect to do work and not spend time with someone that has been waiting.

You look at her, sweeping the bangs out of her face.

“How about we wind down? You should take a break. Maybe we should bake while listening to the playlist we made together? Spend time with each other? A movie?”

“I’m tired.”

“I think we should just-”

“No.”

“But-”

Then, her fist suddenly slams into the wooden table, making your dog and you flinch from the loudness as she screams at you.

“God! Do you ever know when to just fucking shut up? Can I just go to bed instead of having a burden on my shoulders? I came back so I could rest. Can I just fucking sleep without having you bother me like you always do? I’m already tired! Can’t you just respect that? Gosh Y/N, you are so fucking annoying!”

It was like an ignition of fireworks. But not the joy when you see the pretty colors, it's the frightening experience when you first hear the loud burst.

As soon as the words that she didn’t mean flowed out of her mouth, she shut it, immediately regretting what she said as she saw the way your happiness began to be shattered. You stood there, and Jenna just felt like she tortured a puppy. She felt her stomach fill with a drowning guilt as it seemed as tears were drowning in your eyes. Her eyes were wild and she soon realized, What the hell am I doing? She knew how much you missed her, she knew it by heart that you missed her day and night. Why did she just yell at you for you just missing someone you loved? She didn’t mean it. The brunette didn’t even know why she said that.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” You whispered, tears glazing your eyes as your body quivered, your voice cracked as you could barely whisper once again, “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t even make eye contact with her as you looked down to the floor, quickly trying to claw away the tears that began to fall down your cheeks and glisten against the light above you two. It felt like the light wasn’t even there, you felt like the whole world around you began to crumble into a void.

You felt sick, traumatized, stabbed into the heart till blood forever took your life as Jenna couldn’t help but just stand there. God you felt like such a fool for all of these love letters. All of these letters you wrote, longing for Jenna to come home to fill the part of her that was empty from her absence in your heart. But you didn’t expect to feel your heart tear more.

“Y/N… I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what came over-”

“D-don’t come near me.”

She got out of the chair, approaching you, her face looking guilty as she brought her arms to hug you, apologies coming out of her mouth. But you didn’t feel the comfort. You didn’t want to be hugged. All you wanted was to get away, you wanted to get away from someone you never wanted to get away from. You immediately stumbled away from her embrace as you cried, running into the walls of the hallway as you crashed into a small drawer, making a small quiet yelp but still running and immediately shut your room when your figure got in, Mabel following you. She heard glass break into pieces, her eyes tracing to the floor where the counter you bumped into laid, your heart frame you placed gently on there broken. She had never seen that before. You must’ve gotten it when she was gone.

“No..” She whispers to herself, voice shaky, feeling guilty already as she bends down to it and sees the photo of you two hugging each other as you look at the camera with happy faces, her arms wrapped around you. The framed photo was broken, a crack in between the middle that now separated you two. A small static buzz sounding as the pink lighted up frame begins to dim, losing its light.

(the picture of you two)

She couldn’t help but think of it as a sign. Could this all be over?

Could it all be over because of words that she never meant or could ever take back?

Jenna didn’t feel good, she felt ashamed of her behavior, now noticing all the things she didn’t notice before. Roses on the table, red velvet cookies with a letter on the right, the way the apartment was perfectly tidy. She looked at the hallway, your room shut.

30 minutes.

That’s how much time your girlfriend gave you before she walked over to your room, seeing Mabel growl at her as her fingertips ghosted your door knob. A frown appeared on her face as she looked down, the puppy always barking playfully at her and licking her face whenever she came home. Now his eyes glared into her, almost like he was guarding the door.

She could tell the way the puppy was warning her, almost like he knew the instant change of mood in you as he chased after you and licked your face as you cried.

“Not you too,” she mumbled, bending down, Mabel backing away, “I already feel bad, I don’t want you to not like me too.”

Jenna scratched his ears as he nipped her finger lightly and bared his teeth, almost like saying, “Don’t you dare hurt her like that again.”

A sigh escaped her mouth as she picked him up and opened your door, peeking in. She looked around, the first view she could see were your crumpled letters littering in a box as she crept in and took one, unfolding it.

all reminds me of you.

every aspect of the universe, like the moon and sun.

the way the sun kisses your freckled skin.

the moon cannot shine without the sun.

just like when you’re here, all the rain has been done.

the moon loves the sun.

the way the sun comforts it during the night with its warmth.

in this universe too,

i know we’ll get through,

because i know that i love you.

-y/n

There were too many to count. So much poetry, like your mind was filled with her because you missed her. You loved her so terribly that when she wasn’t here, a part of you wasn’t there either.

“Y/N?”

No response, she sniffled, placing Mabel onto your bed as she looked around. Then she heard it. A small cry, her head immediately turning to your bathroom that was half open.

“Y/N?” she repeats again, coming closer as she opens the door, being greeted with the sight of your body slumped over on the toilet, hicupping on cries as she hears you gagging and puking. You were emptying the contents of your stomach, let alone the red velvet cookies you had before.

You looked so scared.

Anyone would feel heartbroken if they saw a sweet girl like you looking like this.

“Sweetheart,” Jena kneeled next to you worriedly, lifting up your hair as you coughed, back arching uncomfortably as she rubbed your shaking body.

Hiccups kept coming as you kept having the need to throw up. You couldn’t help it. You felt so much anxiety and stress, you just wanted it to stop as your shaking body coughed into the toilet.

Your coughing died down a little, still weak as you manage to croak out a small, “I’m sorry I-I’m annoying. I’m really t-trying not to..”

Jenna felt her heart shattered as she rubbed circles on your back, stroking your hair. Feeling terrible. She didn’t mean it.

She never meant it.

You looked tired, afraid, now realizing you didn’t look as happy as you once did when she was by your side.

Taking out her anger on someone she loved most.

“Baby no, I’m sorry I hurt you. I know how much you wanted to see me but work got a hold of me and everything was just so stressful. I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t know why I said that. I’ve just taken all my stress that has been coming from filming on someone I loved and I shouldn’t have done that. It’s no excuse, but I promise you’re not a burden, or annoying, or anything. You’re perfect, and I love you. I’m sorry. There's no reason for you to apologize.”

It seems your coughs had stopped, backing away from the toilet as your shoulders hit the wall.

“I’m here. I love you. I love you too much. I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she whispers into the shell of your ear, her warm breath slightly comforting you as she cradles you lovingly. She rubs your back and flushes the toilet, picking you up into her arms while you curl your body into her.

Her lips kiss your temple, wiping the tears she knew she caused, her warm hands caressing your cheeks. Jenna carefully places you down into bed, crawling in bed next to you as she spoons you. You turn around, immediately softening into her hug. Your sniffling red nose nestling into her neck.

Her eyes gaze at you, wondering how she could possibly yell at you. You looked so small in her arms while you let out quiet hiccuping cries.

“Shh.. Beautiful girl, I’m here, don’t cry, I won’t ever do that again. Pinky promise.”

Comfort.

Was the first thing you felt as her hand scratched your scalp, playing with the hairs on the nape of your neck. Her fingers soothed your wails, stroking your hair so gently.

Your muscles untense, your cheeks no longer so puffy.

Love.

Was the second thing you felt as Jenna’s lips pressed against your forehead over and over. Her nose nudged into yours and your hands intertwined. You felt loved. You feel the love you felt when you first laid eyes on Jenna as her warm body snuggles you. Your legs are laced together as you feel your heartbeat slow, finding serenity as you can hear the way Jenna’s peaceful heart thumps into your ears softly.

Your eyes close, you feel yourself falling asleep, Jenna can feel it too. Her fingertips stroke your hair, her lips kissing your cheek.

Forgiveness

Was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep as your head nodded off, finding the soothing comfort in the fluffy, warm duvets, and finding even more comfort in your girlfriend.

“I forgive you,” your heart says, “When it comes to you, I always forgive you. I can’t ever bring myself to not love you. I love you just like the moon loves the sun. I love you even more than myself.”

I love you more than one heart can ever love.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader

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radiantcircle-if · 5 months ago

Text

The Radiant Circle

The Radiant Circle is a work-in-progress contemporary fantasy interactive novel with elemental magic, a heavy hand of romance, and a salt-sprinkle of mystery. The story is rated 18+ and may contain triggering content for some.

↪ introduction (updated 7/22/24) ⟢ demo (upcoming fall/winter)

You were born without any magic into a long lineage of sorcerers who serve the Night Circle—a division of the Radiant Circle, the central governing body that maintains order among sorcerers. Even now when you live outside of the magical community, you’re still required to report to the local leadership about the magic you still don’t have.

Of course, only after having accepted a life without magic, you awaken a latent magical power too great to be yours. Myths speak of such a sorcerer, a Resonant Soul capable of mastering all four elements, reincarnated throughout history to bring balance to the magic community. So little is truly known, but that can’t be you.

But what if it is?

Thankfully, as an investigative journalist, what you do best is hunt for the truth. To unravel the secrets of your soul, you’re forced back into the world of sorcery to navigate ancient rivalries and contend with those who may fear your newfound power and seek to bury it for good.

Because while most didn't believe the myths to be true, others have been preparing for your return. Most of all? You four souls bonded to yours for eternity.

Play as the main character ⟢

Choose your name, appearance, gender, and sexuality.

Develop your personality as a harmonizer or disruptor—will you bring unity or will you bring destruction?

Gain mastery over elemental magic as the Resonant Soul—how much mastery in each element is up to you.

Travel the world while earning or losing influence through your decisions—will your reputation precede you or will you remain unknown?

Five romance options ⟢

Two pansexual men, one lesbian, and two gender-selectable romance options... and a hidden sixth romance option... with the potential for more to unlock later.

Four soulmates who will be revealed over the course of the story—your bonds, whether platonic or romantic, are yours to develop.

And if you don’t like romance, you can improve your friendships instead.

Or if you’re a misanthrope, deteriorate all your relationships to your liking.

Good endings? Check. Bad endings? Also check.

You ✦ 26-year-old journalist from Seattle, USA (ℹ) Rejected by the magical community because your magic never awakened, you once sought to understand why before later turning to a career of journalism to attempt to uncover truths that don’t have to do with magic. Your dissertation was titled “Unveiling the Hidden: A Comparative Study of Secret Societies and Their Influence on Modern Media." After landing your dream job as an investigative journalist, you're returning home to Seattle for your assignment.

⟡ tropes include main character (surprise! you're the main character), insider/outsider, the most wanted (because you are a…), person of mass destruction, (possible) living legend, (possible) lust object, (seemingly) cosmic plaything…

Arseau Nassiet ⟡ High Justicar 31-year-old water sorcerer (he/him) from Seattle, USA (ℹ) A talented water sorcerer, your older brother Arseau is well loved within the Night Circle's upper echelons, but he'd never brag about it. He has been away from home for over a decade, raising ranks within the circle alongside his best friend. He coordinates his visit home with yours during the holidays so he can see his favorite younger sibling (never mind that he has only one sibling—you).

⟡ tropes include protective older brother, brainless beauty (yeah, he's a himbo), the caregiver/caretaker, the confidant (if you want), the informant, nice guy (someone has to keep the peace between the Pico brothers), the reliable one...

César Pico (RO) ⟡ Archumbricar 31-year-old earth sorcerer (he/him) from Tijuana, MX (ℹ) One of the highest ranking earth sorcerers in the world, César is seen as the unofficial heir of the current Night Luminary—and he takes the role seriously. As your brother's best friend, he has been a permanent fixture in your life as far as you remember—another persistent reminder of the magic that has remained inaccessible to you and the community that left you behind. He's at least an attractive reminder, even if it's unfortunate that his rare smirk proves that he knows it.

⟡ tropes include the hero, the cold & brooding heir, older brother's best friend/forbidden love, age gap, opposites attract, danger deadpan, glory hound, tall dark & handsome (obviously) ⟡ solo-route (with a possible rivalry with his brother), borderline enemies to lovers, (possible first love), forced proximity, maybe the slowest burn

Rafa Pico (RO) ⟡ High Justicar 27-year-old fire sorcerer (he/him) from Tijuana, MX (ℹ) The younger brother of César....and also his left hand man even though he doesn't take his position within the Night Circle very seriously. He doesn't take anything very seriously except his freedom. Especially his freedom to flirt his way into anyone's good graces.

⟡ tropes include the explorer, the charming playboy, childhood/long time friend, (his) unrequited crush (on you), the (horny) bard, speed demon, hell seeker, elegant classical musician... ⟡ solo-route (with a possible rivalry with his brother), friends to lovers but he never really saw you as a friend, forced proximity, slow burn

Gazi Gharib (RO) ⟡ Photojournalist 28-year-old (she/her or he/him) from New York City, USA (ℹ) Your roommate and best friend ever since you moved to NYC, they're always ready to help you investigate something new and dangerous.

⟡ tropes include the innocent, the best friend, the encouraging charmer, the serial romeo, the casanova, agent mulder (the believer), empathetic communicator, spirited competitor, the klutz ⟡ solo-route or poly-route with Deniz, besties to lovers (and you can start at the lover bit if you'd like cause this one is a...), faaaaaast burn

Deniz Yılmaz (RO) ⟡ Private Investigator 26-year-old (he/him or she/her) from Istanbul, TR (ℹ) Your next-door-neighbor and childhood best friend. You haven't kept in close contact, but they're the first person you think of seeing when you visit home.

⟡ tropes include the jester, agent scully (the skeptic), street-smart investigator, hardboiled detective, erudite stoner, literal-minded/snark knight combo, childhood friends, loyal supporter, gadgeteer genius ⟡ solo-route or poly-route with Gazi, childhood friends (or was it more?) to lovers, (possible second chance romance...), somewhere between slow and fast burn

Dr. Noel Sung (RO) ⟡ Journalist 41-year-old (she/her) from London, UK (ℹ) Your graduate school mentor who you credit for preparing you to land a job at The New York Times as prestigious as it is. She's now your direct supervisor, and she has quite the assignment for you.

⟡ tropes include the magician, high-powered career woman, absent-minded professor(/former forbidden love?), age gap, charismatic intellectual, intuitive leader, pragmatic idealist, deadpan snarker, determinator, shrinking violet, (your possible unrequited crush on her goes here)… ⟡ solo-route, workplace romance (technically; she's your boss now), slow burn

An ancient, hidden society of sorcerers ⟢

The Radiant Circle is the central governing body that maintains harmony and order among sorcerers, as well as keep their community secret. It was originally formed and led by the Resonant Soul (called the High Guardian—this is you) and the most powerful elemental sorcerers of the time (called the Founding Guardians—these are the four souls bonded to you) as an alliance of sorcerers from across the New Kingdom of Egypt.

After its formation, the magical community grew, and eventually, the Radiant Circle was divided into four smaller regional circles called the Ephemeral Circles: the Night Circle (you know the most about this one), the Dawn Circle, the Day Circle, and the Dusk Circle. These four circles, also called luminariates, are the main governing bodies of the current world of sorcery. Every known family of sorcerers lives under the eye of the Radiant Circle and one of the four Ephemeral Circles.

Only the Resonant Soul can be the High Guardian of the Radiant Circle. Only the four souls bonded with Resonant Soul can be the Founding Guardians. During periods where the Resonant Soul or the Guardians aren’t alive, these positions are left vacant and the Ephemeral Circles meet as the Radiant Council annually instead. Unfortunately, it's been so long since there has been a Resonant Soul that there aren't many people left who remember who sits at the top of the hierarchy.

You live as a Threshold—an uninitiated sorcerer, typically a child who can't use magic yet—within the luminariate called the Night Circle. You sit at the bottom of the hierarchy, but every other sorcerer you know? César is an Archumbricar, the right hand of the Night Luminary and leader of the Night Circle. Arseau and Rafa are César's High Justicars, his right and left hands. Your dads even play a role, advising the Luminary from their position in the Night Weave.

A single soul that can control all four elements, reincarnated once again—you ⟢

Before you became the Resonant Soul, you were a child born without magic to two prominent sorcerers sometime before recorded human history begins. Back then, it was common to put the child of every sorcerer through a resonance ritual, even children of sorcerers born without magic who always died in the process. But where there's a will, there's a way, and someone really wanted you to live and created circumstances that bound your souls together—one into endless reincarnation and the other into endless immortality.

You meet the four original Guardians over the course of hundreds of years. Your bonds are unique and have chained the fate of their souls with yours so that they are reincarnated in an endless cycle by your side. Even so, you've lived more lives without them than with them, lived more lives without magic than with it. Almost as if you're fighting a losing battle against knowing your true soul.

Only the Resonant Soul can resonate with all four types of elemental magic, but your magic remains locked away until you regain your memories (how're you supposed to regain memories you don't remember you need to regain? then again, how safe would it be to give you all that power and no recollection of all the mistakes you've made?). The Guardians are known for their extraordinary abilities in one element; their magic isn't sealed away, only their memories (which still isn't convenient—how are you supposed to know who they are if they don't know who they are?).

⟢ retweets & asks are welcome! there is no better writing motivation ♡

〉 Sections: Profiles, Editorials, Articles, Ask Me, Answers, Quotes

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rogersideup · 5 months ago

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

More fun stuff!

America’s Sweetheart

Can be read as a one shot, or in conjunction with Nice to be Kneaded.

Series Masterlist More Fun Stuff Masterlist

Nomad Steve x Baker reader

3,621 words

Reader finds a way to make Steve’s birthday special despite all odds

You sat cozy on your couch, relaxed as could be. A movie played quietly, your softest blanket was thrown over your lap, legs propped up on the coffee table, and your favorite fugitive next to you fought off sleep so hard he could barely even pay attention to the movie anymore.

It was one of those rare nights you decided to work from home to spare both you and Steve a night at the bakery. Sure, he could've found ingredients to organize and endlessly dust flour off of shelves, but it was important to you that he got relaxing nights with peace of mind, and no manual labor.

With your laptop open, your last task of the night was to look over the schedule and make sure everything was ready to go. Themed treats for upcoming holidays were thought of, time off requests were approved, supply deliveries were marked on time.

A date on the calendar caught your attention. The Fourth of July was quickly approaching, so you placed an order of red and blue sprinkles and some extra food coloring just to make sure you had enough to supply the small town with all of their themed treat needs. For such a quaint place, everyone around took the fourth very seriously.

Then faster than a bullet train, you nearly gasped as you got hit with the realization... Captain America's birthday is on the Fourth of July.

You looked over at your sleepy super soldier and couldn't help but to smile at his long hair flopping onto his face but being too tied to even fix it.

"Stevie" You quietly caught his attention, reaching over to rub his arm.

"Hmm?" He replied, turning his attention towards you.

"What do you want to do on your birthday?" You asked him while closing your laptop. If you had to choose between working another minute, or snuggling the sleepy hunk of a man next to you, you'd always choose the latter.

"My birthday?" Steve furrowed his eyebrows at your question, sounding genuinely confused. "Wasn't gonna celebrate it this year."

His eyes widened at your immediate pout to his statement, but his arms welcomed you and pulled you closer as your body cuddled up to his. He kissed your forehead as you settled in, but you looked up at his sweet face again. "There was only one wrong possible answer to that question, and it's the one you just gave me."

"Holidays are busy for you at work anyway, don't need to add anything else to that chaos." His beard tickled your neck as he shoved his chin onto your shoulder. "I didn't celebrate last year either. It's not that big of a deal."

"You didn't even tell me when your birthday was or that it was coming up." You pouted, sadness lacing into every work you spoke. "If the date wasn't so painfully obvious it would've passed by and I wouldn't have even known, and I feel like you did that on purpose."

"It's okay Sunflower," he mumbled before placing a kiss to your shoulder. "I don't really like my birthday, so I'd rather just skip it."

Your pout deepened even more at his statement. Of course circumstances aren't ideal, he was in hiding so there wasn't much you could even do with or even for him. He couldn't spend it with his friends or chosen family, and it's not like you could take him to a fancy dinner at a fine dining restaurant, but you knew in your heart you could still make the day special.

"Why don't you like it?" You questioned.

The sadness in your eyes was killing him slowly, and quickly melting away the walls around his heart. "I guess I liked it more when I was a kid, but as I've gotten older it's always gotten more complicated. There's always so much pressure surrounding one day of the year and I usually end up on some sort of parade float for the city anyways. It's not really my birthday anymore, I always just feel like a holiday novelty."

"That makes me so sad." You admitted before Steve kissed the pout right off your lips.

"Don't be sad, it's fine." He grabbed your blanket from the couch and pulled it right back over the two of you. "This year has been quite taxing, emotionally and physically so every day I get to spend like this with you feels like a gift. This is all I want."

"You're very stubborn." You noted, shaking your head. "Your mere existence is practically a miracle, and you don't think that's worth celebrating."

"I think you might be the only person who feels that way about me anymore." He mumbled.

That statement made your heartbreak, and caused a physical pain in your chest. You knew now that this was a sensitive subject, and you've probably pushed too far.

"You know damn well that's not true." You said seriously, looking right into his tired eyes. "And I'll prove it to you."

"That sounds a little more than mildly threatening." Steve grinned.

"Good, I'm glad. You should feel threatened." Your arms squeezed him tighter and you snuggled impossibly closer to him. "Because you're very special, and you deserve to feel that way."

"look who's the stubborn one now." Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Happily." You kissed him. "I'm taking advantage of the fact that you're too tired to even argue, but we can drop the subject because I want you to sleep well tonight."

"That's so sweet and so mean at the same time." Steve grinned.

"It comes from a place of good intentions." You clarified.

"I know it does, you have the biggest heart I've ever known." Steve agreed. "So if we must celebrate my birthday, this is all I want. If you happen to find some spare time on the fourth, I will happily spend it with you."

Finally, your pretty smile poked through. "I guess that's better than refusal."

"Shall we agree to disagree and call it a night?" Steve pitched, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Only because I care about you so much." You laid your head right on his chest.

"No! Don't get cozy!" Steve sleepily giggled. "Let's go to bed."

"Fine, fine." You sat up and let out a yawn as he stood up from the couch and stretched.

He reached out his hand to you, seemingly offering to help you up. But the second you placed your hand in his, he hooked your arm around the back of his neck and picked you up like a groom would his bride.

Your laughter warmed his heart all the way up the stairs, then your arms held him appreciatively as he carefully set you down on your bed and got in next to you.

A few kisses and affirmations of nothing but the sweetest dreams to come was just about all the two of you had any energy for before falling asleep shortly after.

The next morning, Steve went off on his daily run and you headed off to work leaving your mind perfectly free to devise a plan to make his birthday as special as it could possibly be.

You knew he was a very chill guy. He did everything on the down low and never liked to bring too much attention to himself, even when he wasn't in hiding. So if there was one thing you knew for sure, especially after your conversation about it, your plans needed to be just as chill as he was.

You were so chill about it, in fact, time flew by without you even bringing his birthday up again. So as it approached, Steve nearly forgot about it.

The night of July 3rd, your plan started wonderfully. Though the two of you would usually watch a Pixar movie since Steve hadn't seen most of them, you were able to sway him towards the perfect Disney movie... Tangled.

You got him to watch the whole movie with you, and even managed to get both of you through it without either of you falling asleep before the ending.

Ever since you learned about Steve in history class as a teenager, you found his birthday to be rather interesting. The chances of a sickly little boy born on Independence Day growing up to be the face of the country's best fighter was probably less than one in a million.

Every year on his birthday, fireworks lit up the sky over the whole country, much like how every year on Rapunzle's birthday, the entire kingdom let go of lanterns to float in the sky in hopes of finding her.

Perhaps your parallels weren't enough for Steve, he didn't put two and two together. Or maybe he saw some connections but didn't say anything, but regardless, the context was bound to make your plans for his birthday even more special.

The worst part of the whole day was that Steve was correct, holidays at work were very busy so you couldn't take the whole day off to spend with him. But, you still made some arrangements to make his time away from you feel special.

You got up extra early, just about 3 in the morning, to sneak into his house to decorate his living room with balloons, and a cute happy birthday banner you strung across the mantle. Just to cover all your bases since you knew he wouldn't accept any real gifts, you also left him a card with a cute note written inside, all his favorite snacks, a new hat and a super cute hoodie, and a few chocolate chip cookies just for good measure.

A few kisses to his temple while he was asleep, tucking him in tighter before you left, then you were off to work. You pretty much helped customers all day long with the exception of making Steve a birthday cake and decorating a custom sugar cookie order.

When you got off work, you quickly ran home to shower and change into some comfortable clothes before making your way to Steve's house once more.

Using the side gate and entering the back door, you smiled at the sight of Steve walking towards you.

"Happy birthday, Stevie!" You smiled excitedly, happy to finally get to spend time with him.

"Thank you, pretty girl" Steve smiled right back and greeted you with a kiss before pointing at the cake box in your hands. "What's that?"

"Your cake, silly. What else would it be?" You questioned with a giggle and set the box down on the table.

"I have a bone to pick with you." Steve playfully scolded.

"Already?" You questioned. "We haven't even gotten to the fun part!"

"I told you I didn't want this to interfere with your already busy day, and I know you got up early, and I know that took time away from work." He said pointing to the cake box.

"Oh but you're just so cute I can't even help myself." You fake complained. "Plus we actually get to eat this so we both benefit."

"I'll let you get away with it this time, but this behavior is unacceptable." He continued joking, referencing everything you've already done for him.

"Well, don't speak too soon because I have to admit I'm a bit embarrassed about something."

Steve preemptively giggled at your admission as you started opening the top of the cake box. "What happened?"

"I realized while I was making this earlier that you never actually told me how old you are, so I had to secretly google you at work so nobody would know I was making you a cake. Then google was telling me all sorts of nonsense about how old you could be but I refuse to believe what it said, so I had to do math which is not my strong suit." You explained. "All of that is to say I committed, and it could be completely wrong."

He stood behind you with a hand on your lower back, peeking over your shoulder. Never expecting what was to come, he nearly choked on a knot in his throat and had to try really hard to not let tears well in his eyes when you showed him the cake you made.

It was small and round, his favorite color green, perfectly piped borders on the top and bottom, the perfect sprinkle mix, and it read 'Happy Birthday, Stevie!' With candles that said 33.

You looked back at his face to see if you got it right, but you were met with an expression you couldn't quite gauge. With an awkward giggle, you asked the dreaded question "Oh no, it's wrong huh? How old are you?"

"No, no, you got it right." Steve shook his head and finally got himself to smile and chuckle at his own reaction. He wrapped his arms about you from behind. "It's just- this is the first time I've ever had a cake that wasn't red white and blue. I really love it, it's so pretty. Thank you so much"

"What? That makes no sense. Your favorite color is green so why would you have a red white and blue cake?" You asked as if it was the easiest, most obvious choice.

You didn't even realize how much something so simple to you meant to him. He knew two things for sure right then and there, the first being that him being captain america meant so little to you that you couldn't even fathom why he hated his birthday so much, and the second being you were the only person since the 40's to make him feel like himself again. You didn't use his birthday as an opportunity to make jokes about how old he was or what had happened to him, and you put forth your best effort to separate it from the holiday. He was so sure this moment was when he was certain he wanted to marry you.

"You're too good to me" Steve shook his head before kissing the top of yours.

"Save it for later, we're just starting the celebration." You smiled, turning around to face him. There was no containing your chuckle as he kissed you yet again. "Would you like 33 kisses today?"

"That's not enough." Steve denied, the blush in his cheeks spreading to the tip of his nose. "Some would say I'm actually turning 99 today. I would like 100 kisses. One extra for good luck"

"Oh, so now you actually tell me what you want?" You smiled. "My lips might fall off but that's a price I'm willing to pay."

"Okay then we probably shouldn't test that theory." He regretfully let you go.

"Here's the deal Rogers, I’m about to kidnap you and take you on a little hike so I need you to put on some comfortable clothes and get your beautiful booty in my car.” You pointed your finger at him. “I don’t want to hear any complaints!”

“Yes ma’am” Steve agreed with a smile before turning around to walk up the stairs. “Beautiful booty…” he repeated your words to yourself.

“And don’t you forget it!” You called out to him.

While you waited for him, you put the cake in the fridge but eventually got him into the car. After a short drive through the town and a relatively short hike up a hill, you set up a picnic at the very tippy top.

Together you sat on a plush blanket and ate Steve’s current favorite food which was ever changing, watched the sunset, and chatted away while waiting for the main event to start.

The sun fully left for the night at around 8pm, leaving nothing but the stars above you and crickets chirping to mask the sound of silence. You did eventually turn on and tune the little radio you brought with you to the right station that will synchronize with the towns firework show.

With a few minutes to spare, you finally explained. “The sunset was lovely, but I have ulterior motives.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s lopsided smile poked through. “Do tell more.”

“I told you I was going to prove to you that you’re very special and everyone else still thinks so.” You pulled a pair of headphones out of your backpack. “I made you watch tangled for a reason.”

“What’s the reason?” He asked curiously.

“Every year on her birthday, rapunzel watches the lanterns from her bedroom window because she thinks they’re beautiful and helped her feel less trapped in the tower she was stuck in. She always felt like they were meant for her since they always happened on her birthday.” You explained. “I know being on the run also has you feeling quite stuck, but I think it’s beautiful that every year on your birthday the whole sky is filled with fireworks like they’re meant for you. This is the best view point from the whole town, but it’s always empty because nobody knows it’s here. I thought maybe we could watch them together, and maybe it’ll bring you some peace when you see how many really light up the sky. In the least creepy way possible, before I even knew you I always thought of you on this day and really took a moment to appreciate how your existence inadvertently affected my life and so many others. If thats just what little old me was thinking about, imagine how many millions of people are still out there thinking of you tonight”

Steve looked dumbfounded for a few moments even after you explained. You continued to blow him away, and never ceased to know exactly what he needed to hear in the hardest moments in this crazy newfound life as a nomad. He didn’t quite find the words to respond before you started talking again.

“I know that sometimes someone in your line of work can have a hard time with the sounds that come along with fireworks, so I brought you some noise canceling headphones just in case. Or we can always just head home if you don’t want to..” you became a bit unsure of your choice when you realized you could damn near send the man into a panic attack.

“No. No this is perfect.” Steve shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat once more. He had no idea he could ever be loved this much, so much that you didn’t even have to say it with words for him to know it was true. “I don’t even know what to say. I think this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

You smiled and snuggled up to his side. Tightly wrapping your arms around him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything at all.” You rested your head on his shoulder. “I think they’re going to start any minute now. Would you like the headphones?”

“I don’t need them when I have you to protect me.” He grinned and rested his head on top of yours.

Over the radio played an announcement that the display was now starting.

“Okay here’s the part where I prove to you that you’re still America’s sweetheart.” You told him. “If I remember correctly, every year the show starts with…”

Steve started laughing as Star Spangled Man started playing on the radio, and fireworks illuminated the sky. From up close and from a distance, the view was so good he could see them from neighboring towns miles and miles away.

“You know this song, right?” You asked Steve sarcastically. You knew damn well he had heard the song about him hundreds of times on his USO tour.

“No, I’ve never heard it before” he responded just as sarcastically.

“You know, if the hatred for you was actually as bad as it feels for you, they would’ve stopped using this song last year.” You explained. “But look, it’s still here and people still love it, and people still love you. Even in this teeny tiny town that doesn’t even know you’re living in it.”

Steve nodded in understanding and he choked back more tears. He wrapped his arms around you just as tightly as you held him, and for the remaining 25 minutes both of you were so mesmerized by the lit up sky no more words were spoken to each other until after the grand finale.

The very last firework in the sky fizzled away, and he finally found the words. “You were right.”

You smiled. “It wasn’t about me being right, I just wanted you to have a good day.”

“I’m not even exaggerating, but I think this might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He said genuinely. “Thank you, I don’t think you’ll ever know how much I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, sweet boy. Even if this is the only birthday of yours we get to spend together, I hope you know that every year when the fireworks go off, where ever we are in the world, I’ll always be thinking of you.” You kissed his lips.

“That might be even sweeter than the cake waiting for us at home.” Steve smiled, taking your words to heart.

“The only thing that’s between us and that cake is a hike down a hill.”

“In the complete dark.” Steve added. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Not when I have you to protect me.” You admitted, standing up to start the process of making your way back to the cake. Steve stood up, and under the moonlight he just looked to beautiful you couldn’t even resist giving him yet another hug.

He happily accepted, and rubbed your back in appreciation.

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

145 notes · View notes

saulocept · 5 months ago

Text

a streetcar named desire

pairing: kenji sato/reader

rating: g

summary: “Do you love him?”

You don’t know, not really. Love feels like a foreign word to you now, a distant emotion you’ve long since forgot about. You’re not entirely sure if you love him. He’s caring and considerate, and he’s more than you could ever deserve in the entirety your life. You know that, of course, know it still, even now.

But now you’re not so sure.

notes: timeline's a little wonky here. set after the film, with a sprinkle of spoilers if you haven't yet watched :)

tags: pining. mostly.

Even now, you’re still not entirely sure how things had ended up this way. You’re not even supposed to be here, staying over at Kenji’s apartment – colder and emptier than his previous one – nursing your glass of wine, listening to him tell you stories about his career, littered, as always, with his theories of kaiju existence in America.

It’s supposed to be a quick visit, just to help him get a feel for his new home, and yet you’re still here, watching as the seconds tick by on the clock, taking a slow sip of your wine as you listen to him ramble on and about something. You’re not entirely paying attention now at this point, especially when he doesn’t sound too sober anymore. Even his topics have become a jumble now, jumping from one to another, without you having to say much.

At this point, it’s almost like he’s talking to himself, but he’s far too adorable to stop. And besides, when’s the last time the two of you have got together like this? As children, you’re both inseparable, talking about anything and everything – no secrets in between. But as adults, you’ve both been terribly busy. Him with his career, and you with yours. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d heard his voice outside of your television, blaring cool and confidently through your speakers, masking the fact that he’s anything but in real life.

With the news of your engagement reaching his ears, he’d promptly told you off through a phone call, refusing to answer any of your calls and ignoring all of your text messages, no matter how times you’d told him you’re sorry.

You know you’re supposed to tell him first; he’s your best friend, after all. Of course, you’re supposed to tell him everything first, every news, no matter how good or bad, long before anyone else. You’d both made that vow since you were children, and yet with everything piling up on your plate: wedding preparations, work demands, you’ve just never had enough time and gradually forgot about it.

At first, you’d been terribly afraid he wouldn’t talk to you again, so you’d flooded his inbox with a bunch of messages, each one an apology, varying the spelling just a tiny bit, so none of them would get flagged as a spam mail. You can’t tell if you’d succeeded; after all, he’d never replied to a single one of them.

At one point, you’d even entertained the idea of flying over to visit him, just to personally apologize, but your upcoming wedding had made that practically impossible.

And then before you knew it, there was a knock on your door, unbidden and unexpected. You’d expected it to be a robbery; in this part of the city, nothing’s impossible, after all, and it was two in the morning – anything could happen, but what you didn’t expect was to see a familiar face, slightly changed but still the same as you remember. Kenji Sato.

Kenji Sato, crashing over at your apartment at two in the morning, exhausted from the flight and slightly tipsy, because yours was the first address he could recall. Or at least, that’s what he’d told you. You’d never got quite the chance to ask him about that, especially when he’d promptly passed out on your couch after roughly a minute of conversation.

He’d left the morning after, quickly finding himself an apartment despite your protests that he could stay with you for as long as he needed.

And now here you are. Enjoying a drink, conversing with him like there’s nothing’s changed between you. Like old times, when you’re still just college kids sneaking out late at night for impromptu study sessions, and for a midnight snack at the nearest McDonald’s.

But now you’re both older. And something’s changed between you, even if you’re not quite sure what it is yet.

“How long will you stay here for?” you ask, resting your chin against your palm, trying to make conversation. Absently, you watch the lights flicker against the glass table. A new one, not the one from his old apartment. You’ve half the heart to ask him about it: where’d it go, whether he’d sold it or left it be, but stop yourself at the last second. It’s not wise to pick at old wounds, no matter how curious you get. He’d tell you when he’s ready, you tell yourself,

He sits across from you, distant, farther than you’ve ever had him. Was he always this far from you before? Did you just never notice? “Just for the month,” he says, his eyes almost glimmering in the dim light. There’s something else in there – some meaning, some implication, hidden behind the shortness of his response. Just for the duration of your wedding. Nothing else.

“And then you’ll be off again soon.” It’s not a question, but rather a remark. When he’d left a year ago, you’d assumed it had been for good. A permanent decision, one that you would have no say in. He’d told you as much before, on the phone, just a night before his flight. He’d never told you what ultimately pushed him to do it, and you’d never had the heart to ask. Back then, the loss of his mother was a fresh wound, raw and bleeding. But now, it feels like a distant memory, an old scar that lingers about him, a miasma you can’t quite fix, and a ghost he can never get rid of.

“Mm-hm.” He shrugs, leans back against the couch, raising his glass his lips. He takes another sip of his wine. Not an agreement, but not quite the opposite. He looks away after a moment, stares blankly at the wall, lets the silence stretch between you. You follow his gaze, note the lack of pictures, portraits. His old apartment had been more vibrant, colorful, littered with a thousand photos, his childhood trophies arranged in a neat row, dusted and polished every single day. Well taken care of, no doubt by his mother.

And yet this one’s emptier. Duller, more lifeless. Granted, it’s a new apartment, and you’re still helping him arrange his stuff, but it still doesn’t change the overall vibe of the place.

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask all of a sudden, breaking the silence between you. You lean forward, placing your empty wine glass back on the table, staring at him in earnest, watching his face for some kind of reaction. You can’t help but be curious; he seems different somehow, more sullen, melancholic, and you’re not sure why. Is there something he’s not telling you?

He snorts, looks up to meet your eyes, a small smile playing about the corners of his. Familiar, and yet not quite the same. “You’re my best friend. Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because you’re the last to hear about my engagement?”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” he says, waves his hand dismissively like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just ignore your texts for a whole week. “I’m busy, you’re busy. We both have stuff to deal with. I get it. It’s all part of life.”

“And yet you’re still childish enough to believe in all those kaiju stuff.” You don’t mean to say it, not really. You know how much he believes in those; even when you were both children, he’d told you all kinds of stories, sketching an incomprehensible doodle at the back of your math notebook when it’s clear you couldn’t understand a word he’s saying.

He narrows his eyes at you, looking almost annoyed. “You want me to ignore you for a week straight again?” There’s no real edge to his voice, there never is, just a playful sharpness that has you biting the inside of your cheek in an attempt to stifle a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” you say, playing along, reaching for your glass and then the bottle of wine, filling your glass just halfway before placing the bottle back on the table. “Please don’t back out of the wedding. You know you’re the only one I can trust there.”

“Maybe I will,” he says, almost tauntingly. His voice drops, grows into a whisper, more serious. “You know I’ve never liked that fiancé of yours.”

You know that, of course. He’s never kept that a secret from you; even back when you and your fiancé had started dating, Kenji’s never failed to voice his disapproval out loud, as though he could somehow get you to change your mind before things are too late. You’ve almost lost count how many times he’d talked shit about him to your face, making fun of everything: from his name (“Sylvester. Really?”); to the way he stands (like he’s one minute away from constipating); to the way he dresses (like his grandmother’s wallpaper).

You shake your head, sigh, take another sip of your drink. “We’re about to get married soon, you know. You can’t just talk shit about him like before.”

“You can still back out now.” He sounds serious, more serious than you’ve ever heard him. You pause, look up at him, searching his face for something. His eyes are dark, his expression opaque. You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, or what he’s feeling, but all you know is that he’s serious about this.

“But I—” you begin, stopping as soon as you realize you’re not entirely sure what you’re going to say. But I love him. It feels like an instinctive response, a kneejerk reaction rather than the truth, something you’re supposed to say instead of something you actually mean. You stare at him for a long time, mouth agape, suddenly at a loss for words.

He doesn’t wait for you to finish, find the right words. “Do you love him?”

You don’t know, not really. Love feels like a foreign word to you now, a distant emotion you’ve long since forgot about. You’re not entirely sure if you love him; Sylvester’s a good man, a good boyfriend – he never forgets the important dates, the important details. He’s caring and considerate, and he’s more than you could ever deserve. You know that, of course, know it still, even now. At the time, it had been enough.

But now, you’re not so sure. You’ve never really sat down and thought if you truly loved him. You’ve never really had enough time, and confronting the truth of the matter seems more than you bargain for. You’re comfortable with him, yes, but is that enough to call it love?

When he’d knelt down and proposed to you in front of an audience you never quite felt comfortable with, you just said yes. Automatically, instinctively, mostly because that’s what anyone in your position would say. But love’s never been part of the equation. Not when it comes to him, to this.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice jolting you out of your thoughts. With a sigh, he raises his glass to his lips, downs it all in one go. Quickly, he grabs the bottle from the table, fills his glass to the brim, the liquid nearly overflowing. “You know I’m not trying to ruin your wedding.”

“I know.”

He brings his glass closer to yours, gives you a tentative smile. “Peace?”

“Peace.”

You clink your glass to his, then, following his example, you down the liquid in one go.

This is a bad idea, objectively so. At the back of your mind, you’re well aware of how terrible it is to stay longer in his apartment, getting drunk out of your mind. You have a meeting in a few hours with your boss and it wouldn’t do well for you to arrive at work with a hungover, or slightly drunk and nursing a headache.

But you can’t help it. And you can never say no to him.

You should’ve stopped after a few glasses. You’ve told yourself you’ll stop after the third one, but for some reason, you’re still here, taking a languid sip of your drink, cringing slightly at the bitter aftertaste. You’re not even sure what you’re drinking now at this point. Vaguely, you’re aware that you’ve emptied all the wine you had a few hours ago, and now you’re drinking something else. Something darker, bitter.

Stronger too, from the looks of it, as evidenced from the buzzing in your head.

Not that Kenji’s faring any better. If anything, he seems even drunker than before, more than you even. He’s lying down on the floor, staring at the ceiling, his glass sitting innocently beside him, nearly empty. He’s always been worse at holding his alcohol than you are – having no coach who tells you what you should and shouldn’t do definitely helps with the tolerance, though it’s not a feat you can brag at parties.

“So,” he begins, hiccupping a little, pointing at something you can’t quite see. Slowly, he turns to look at you, raising his head so he can look at you. “You believe in kaiju?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. There’s a buzzing in your head, an incoming headache. Maybe you’re getting older and reaching your limit. Or maybe you’re just losing your touch. You sit up straighter, gently rubbing your temples, trying to ease the feeling. “Not real. Didn’t you watch the documentary with me before? The one where they debunked it?”

“What if…” he begins, pauses, hiccupping once more. “What if I told you they’re real?”

You raise an eyebrow, resting your chin against your palm as you stare down at him, watching him in amusement. “And you got proof of that, mister?”

“Yep.” Quickly, he stands up on the floor, swaying a little from side to side. He wobbles to his feet, and he only manages to take a few steps before he’s stumbling about, losing his balance in the process and falling face-first on the floor. With a laugh, you stand up from your seat, helping him up and gently guiding him back into the couch, placing him on the empty space beside you.

“Come on,” you say, laughing. “You’re clearly drunk.”

“Not drunk,” he says, shaking his head. He shifts a little, lays his head on your lap, his feet dangling at the edge of the couch. He stares up at you, his eyes hazy and unfocused, absently taking you in.

You hum under your breath, smiling at him. “Hi.”

He’s quiet, doesn’t say anything. Slowly, he reaches out, touches your cheek. He’s a little clumsy this time; more than a few times, he’s nearly poked your eye out, but there’s a practiced gentleness behind his touch, a muscle memory he can’t quite forget even when his mind is slowed by the alcohol. His palm is rough, callused, no doubt from years of practice, training, littered with scars you’re not quite sure where he got. You take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together, marveling at how perfectly your hands fit even after all these years.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Stop that.”

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence, just to poke fun at him, though you still don’t let go of his hand, enjoying the warmth of his hand against yours. “You’re the one who touched me first.”

He shakes his head, ignores your remark, frees his hand from your grip, lets it rest against his stomach. “I’ve seen kaiju before,” he says, his voice growing softer, quieter.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, eyebrows furrowing a little in thought. “Uh. Huge?”

“Like in the movies?”

He rolls his eyes, looking almost offended. “Those movies suck.”

“You’re the one who told me to watch them!”

“Well, I’m telling you now: they suck.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “What do you mean they suck? You loved them when we were kids!”

“I’m not a kid now, am I?”

“That hasn’t stopped you from acting like one.”

“Very funny.” He turns to glare at you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying your hardest not to laugh. A moment of silence settles between you: warmer this time, more comfortable. Familiar. As if all that gap between you has suddenly disappeared, leaving nothing but this old familiarity behind. This is how it’s always been between you, isn’t it?

You’ve missed this, more than you could even think of. You’ve almost forgot how it feels like: the casualty of his affection, the warmth of his touch. How you fit perfectly together, like complementary puzzle pieces. Like two halves of the same soul.

Instinctively, you lean in, reaching out to brush a stray strand away from his face. This close, you could see every little detail on his face: the dark circles beneath his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows. The fullness of his lips. How soft they are from this distance.

You’re not sure what possessed you to do it, but you’re doing it long before you could think twice. Curiously, you run a finger along his lower lip, gently tracing the outline; it’s a little chapped, though nothing too bad. Maybe you should buy him a chapstick as a present?

Just as quickly as that thought crosses your mind, you pull back, jolting your hand away from him as though you’ve been burned. He stares at you, his eyes dark, his expression suddenly unreadable. You bite your lip, looking almost ashamed. “Sorry—”

He doesn’t let you finish. Without warning, he reaches out, grips your wrist with one hand, pulling you just the slightest bit closer. This time, he meets your gaze head-on. “Don’t marry him.”

“I—what?” you ask, blinking at him a few times, looking a little uncertain. Gently, you try to shake your hand free from his grip. He lets you go easily enough, and you’re not entirely sure why it leaves you feeling cold, empty. “Ken, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer your question, doesn’t say anything for a long time, his expression still as opaque as ever, unreadable. You stare back at him, eyebrows furrowing a little in concern. “You’re not sick, are you?” you ask, frowning; slowly, you lean in, placing your hand against his forehead, trying to get a feel for his temperature.

He’s a little warm beneath your touch, though you can’t quite tell if it’s from a fever or it’s simply from the alcohol. You sigh, shaking your head, staring at him worriedly. “I told you drinking’s a bad idea.”

He snorts, as though in amusement, then leans away from your touch. “You know what I wish for every night?” he asks, his voice growing softer, quieter that you have to lean close to hear.

“What?”

“For that fiancé of yours to get eaten by a kaiju.”

A nervous laugh escapes you, forced and awkward. “Come on, Ken,” you say, poking him a little at the cheek, trying to catch his attention. “You know that’s a childish thing to say. I know you never liked him, but you can’t really wish for that.”

“Can’t I?” He meets your eyes then, his expression serious. He doesn’t seem drunk this time, only honest.

“Of course not,” you say, shaking your head. “You’re supposed to wish us well, you know. And be happy about it.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” He sounds almost sulky now, childishly so, like a kid who hasn’t been given a candy. You’d laugh at the sight if it isn’t so ridiculous.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice growing louder, taking on a higher-pitch. You rub your temples soothingly with the pads of your fingers, trying to soothe the incoming headache. “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean—”

He frowns, cuts you off before you can say the rest of your words. “You don’t understand.”

You give him a level look. “Then make me understand.”

“I—” he begins, stops. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he stops, hesitating. With a sigh, he shakes his head, looks away. “Never mind,” he says, and his voice is colder now, unfamiliar. He glances at the clock, at the flashing red numbers on the screen. “It’s late. Get some sleep.”

And just like that, the veil is back once more, the distance between you growing farther and farther. Slowly, you stand up from the couch, untangling yourself from him in the process. A hollow feeling follows you afterward, lingers around you as you stumble about in his apartment, trying to find your belongings: your coat hanging on the makeshift rack at the door; your shoes at the doorway.

Quietly, you slip out of his apartment, locking the door behind you, teeth chattering from the cold wind that breezes past you. By the time morning comes around, he’ll forget about this – hopefully – and everything will be alright between you. But for now, you’ll go back to your apartment, grab a bottle of wine from the shelf, and drink yourself to oblivion.

At least until you manage to stop thinking about everything.

#renwrites #kenji sato x reader

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