#than what's stopping you from thinking that about real teenagers too???
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Alright, as much as I love the Avatar fandom, the sexualization of MINORS has gotten VERY out of hand.
So, because some people cannot determine if a character's a minor even if they don't know their age, here's the canon ages for the characters!!!
(From the OFFICIAL visual dictionary)
Tsireya's age isn't listed, and Rotxo's not even in the dictionary, but Tsireya is Ao'nung's younger sister, and Rotxo seems to be around Ao'nung's age, maybe younger by a few months.
So yeah. STOP the excessive sexualization of minors because it's getting annoying and gross to see.
Thank you and goodbye.
(The pictures aren't mine, I found them from this post here.)
#also i don't wanna HEAR the “oh but it's fiction!!!”#SO?????#if you think it's okay to say that teenagers who act very much like teenagers in fiction are “sexy”#than what's stopping you from thinking that about real teenagers too???#it's different if you're a teenager too but it still isn't okay to sexualize minors in fiction regardless of if you're close in age or not#because it's gross#and it's also getting really annoying to have to scroll for miles just to find some content that isn't x reader smut#the next person who reblogs my art with a gross thing to say is getting blocked#avatar#avatar the way of water#atwow#avatar twow#awow smut#awow x reader#avatar the way of water x reader#avatar twow x reader#awow x y/n#avatar the way of water x y/n#avatar twow x y/n#spider socorro#neteyam#lo'ak#loak#kiri#avatar tuk#tuktirey#tuk tuk#aonung#tsireya#rotxo
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TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail
gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)
Thinking about your rich boyfriend…
Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough.
Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking.
Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.
Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.
Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets.
It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.
Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do.
Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.
Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality.
But you’re not joking…
You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?
You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide.
Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…
Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that.
Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.
Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.
Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.
He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything.
Anything you want, it’s yours.
But he owns you.
BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul
JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya
HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins
BLLK – Reo, Rin
HxH – Illumi
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jjk smut#bnha smut#yandere bnha#mha smut#my hero smut#yandere demon slayer#yandere aot#yandere bllk#yandere blue lock#yandere attack on titan#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia
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Have you ever written about an amnesiac werewolf? Like the reader finds a poor lost soul in the forest and takes them in, unknowingly dooming herself to becoming a breeding pet when the moon strikes and his instincts take over? He doesn't know what's come over him. He really doesn't. :'(
TW: car accidents. dubcon. do i know anything about hospitals? no. shhh. enjoy the werewolf porn.
You've grown quite attached to John Doe. He came in three days ago, he'd been "found" naked wandering a forest road at night and gotten cleaned out by a driver in a pickup truck. The driver said he thought he hit a dog or a deer that had wandered onto the road and was horrified to see a man there instead lying bloody on the asphalt.
Despite how bad John Doe looked when he was wheeled into your clinic, he'd been recovering quite nicely. He was even conscious now although he didn't seem to remember anything from before the accident. That coupled with the fact that he was found naked in the woods, it was proving difficult to contact any friends or family who might be able to give a concrete identity.
You weren't too worried though. It was a small community, and you were sure someone who knew him would turn up eventually. As for you, this was a slow time of year for a humble trauma center doctor, you were able to spend lots of time with your favorite amnesiac. It was a little miraculous really how well he was recovering everything but his memory. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was supernatural.
You found yourself spending more and more time with your John Doe, he was sweet and funny, Not to mention he was very attractive, even bloody and bruised. Although the budding warmth you felt for him was tainted slightly both by the fact that he was your patient and the nagging worry in the back of your head that this wasn't the real him. This could all be a false personality that he would lose once he got his memories back.
You'd already started toying with a daydream where once recovered John Doe would still come by to visit you. You shake your head and try to dispel those fantasies from your mind. You mentally chided yourself, you weren't a teenager with a crush you should be handling yourself more professionally than this. Still, your heart raced when he smiled at you.
In the end, it wasn't a friend or family member who revealed who John Doe really was, but it was the summer rain. You were just about to leave for the night when you started getting phone calls. A bad storm was coming in and soon it wouldn't be safe to drive on the largely dirt roads in this town, no one would be coming up to fill in the night shift. You could make it home safe if you left now. But that would mean abandoning your patient and you couldn't do that. So instead you just sighed and hunkered down preparing to wait out the storm inside the hospital.
John Doe was more than happy to have your company- he liked you better than any of the overnight team anyway, and over the past day he'd begun to feel strange. Not in pain just energized in a usual way. there was a tingling sensation just below his skin, he felt hungry but not for food. He couldn't really put a name to the strange pressure in his body, he only knew that it was growing and it made him want to keep you close.
You were in the break room when it happened. You were trying to figure something out for dinner which was hard with only vending machine options available when lightning strikes and the lights die. you hesitate, waiting for backup generators but only the red EXIT lights stay on, casting an eerie red glow to the room. You were just starting to pull open cabinets looking for a flashlight when you heard a loud crash and what sounded like an animal growl. Your heart stops and before you can think you're running toward the sound relying on muscle memory to navigate the darkened halls.
You freeze seeing the hulking form of a wolf over the tipped-over bed of John Doe. How the hell did a wolf get in here? And alone. Even panicked you know something isn't right. Wolves don't come this close to humans, they don't attack humans and they never ever do it alone. Then the wolf looks at you and stands on its hind legs and you realize it's not a wolf but a monster.
Your hands tremble, you should run- call the sheriff- search the lost and found for a gun and shoot the damn thing. But you can't bring yourself to run. The creature in front of you is awe-inspiring despite your fear, you're curious. Then the monster moves and the interest vanishes. Again your body moves before your brain can think you turn and run. You don't look behind as you run but you can hear the beast howl and the solid thud thud thud as it chases after you.
It's a small emergency room, you know there's nowhere to hide unless the werewolf can read and respect "staff only" signs. You feel a large clawed hand wrap around your waist your legs are still kicking trying to run as you're lifted in the air by the monster.
"You took such good care of me...now let me take care of you, sweet mate," the werewolf growls in your ear, turning you to face him, forcing you to look at his hulking monstrous form. You struggle futilely in his grasp he's strong and you can see his muscles bulge under his dark black fur. Lightning strikes again illuminating his sharp white teeth and his bright hungry eyes.
It takes you a moment to catch up to the fact that 1. The werewolf had spoken and 2. That he had promised to "take care of you". Before you can catch your breath let alone ask what that meant he's shoving you down onto the cold linoleum floor, shredding your pants with one clawed hand and the other he presses down hard on your back in between your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the floor. You can feel his warm breath on your exposed skin as he huffs your scent. you can't see him but you know he's drooling. The attention makes you tremble, and then he pushes his thick rough tongue against your body and you moan. His tongue is thick and wet against your trembling cunt. He can't keep his hands to himself, his clawed hand wraps around your breast squeezing as he pulls you back against his hungry lapping mouth.
You can't keep your moans to yourself. The little cries of pleasure slip from your mouth only making the beast more aggressive as he eats you out. Eventually, you give up trying to even hold back the sounds or pretend that you aren't enjoying the ravishment.
It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, he doesn't pull away when you reach your peak. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you savoring the flavor of your cum and the fact that he had successfully pulled an orgasm from you just like he'd promised. His tail wags as he cleans you up, then you start getting wet again and he's not cleaning you up as much as he is eating you out again. His cock hangs heavy between his legs too big and thick for his erection to lift so it just throbs with need and drips thick beads of precum onto the clean floor.
He can't quite decide what he needs more, to jerk himself off or to keep both his hands on you. Eventually, his own ache can't be ignored and he starts to jerk himself off. it doesn't take long for him to cum the sweet flood of your cum just drives him insane. his knot swells pitifully as his semen splatters against your legs and ass dripping down to your pussy. two of his clawed fingers scoop up some of his spilled seed and push it inside of you.
"Next time I cum tonight it's going to be inside of you." It sounds like a threat, you can't wait.
#monster imagine#monster fucker#monster#monster boyfriend#teratophillia#werewolf x reader#werewolf#werewolves#werewolf boyfriend
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the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)
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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader
summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?
7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)
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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right?
Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body.
Sounds like you have it all.
The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.
You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named.
Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price.
“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”
And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans.
You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress.
“Do you need your makeup touched up?”
“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?”
“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”
“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”
“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood.
“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in.
“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes.
“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away.
“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”
You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”
“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.
But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together.
Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore.
And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day.
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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.
“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.
Bullshit.
“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back.
“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!”
“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”
Oh. I guess it changed.
“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is.
“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”
He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”
“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.
“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”
He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”
“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows.
But the worst part was that nobody noticed.
“He's right y’know,” Oscar smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”
“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”
“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”
“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”
You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”
Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.”
“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off.
“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock.
“Y/n.”
Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.
Oh.
“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”
“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”
“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off.
“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”
You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break.
“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”
Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track.
“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”
You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”
“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back.
“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”
“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone.
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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself.
“Yeah?”
“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”
“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?”
Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”
You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it.
“Have you eaten?”
“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”
Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”
“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to.
You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison.
“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded.
The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad.
‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album,
‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that.
The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there.
You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you.
“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”
You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face.
Lando was entranced.
You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part.
“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”
Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new.
You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?
You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably.
“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“I feel like shit-”
“We all do. Let’s go.”
And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them.
“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door.
“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.
The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock.
“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.
“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone.
“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back.
“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on.
“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”
You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly.
“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily.
You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room.
“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”
“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”
“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”
“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.
“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”
With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you.
It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.
You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t.
You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-
Knock knock.
“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.
“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet.
You sat up, staring at him.
“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”
You nodded. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.”
You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”
He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell.
“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off.
His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground?
“Oh,” he breathed out.
You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”
God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”
You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.”
“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”
“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”
“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled.
“Maybe,” you shrugged.
“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence.
You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied.
He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”
“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time.
When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?
----------------
Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going.
“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”
“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”
“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”
“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”
“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.
“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”
“Your best isn’t good enough.”
And he hung up.
----------------
The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later.
What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?
Well, apparently not.
----------------
Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight.
“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”
“Tell her to piss off!”
“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room.
“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it, but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings.
“What?” he groaned, opening the door.
“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted.
“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”
Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed.
“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”
“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at.
“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen?
He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?
“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare.
Lando sighed. ���Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”
“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”
Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”
Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”
Lando nodded.
“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”
“What did Y/n say?”
Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”
Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”
“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”
Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage.
Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect.
He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up.
----------------
You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be.
“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew.
You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”
You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season.
“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.
“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”
He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”
You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”
He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound.
“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.
“I do,” you chuckled.
You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet.
The perfect night.
----------------
He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage.
“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter.
The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs.
You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press.
Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did.
Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered.
Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it.
“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”
“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”
“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”
You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”
Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him.
“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari.
----------------
“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”
You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”
Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”
And then you walked back to Ferrari.
Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you.
----------------
The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random.
“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!”
“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred.
“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!”
“Yes!” you agreed.
----------------
And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?
“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”
You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”
He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers.
“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”
He didn’t waste time.
----------------
You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before.
You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.
“Morning?” she answered groggily.
“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”
“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”
----------------
You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes.
“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door.
You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”
She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”
“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way.
----------------
Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober.
The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando.
It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch.
----------------
Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.
Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come.
Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie.
You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line.
You were surviving. That’s the best you could do.
----------------
“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.
“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”
He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question.
He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning.
Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?
Apparently not.
You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”
He nodded. It was enough to fool him.
The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world.
But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in.
And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped.
But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people.
“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic.
You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back.
“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would.
The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling.
“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”
You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”
He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”
You chuckled. “More than anything.”
“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”
You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”
He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door.
His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it.
“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.
Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”
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landonorris
1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others
love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n
comments
user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party
y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.
georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?
lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).
lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM
danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)
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Hot Wheels [M] Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader Tags: 15.9k, 90's AU, Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+ Collab: Now That's 90's Summary: There has been something brewing between you and your part-time co-worker (full-time hottie), Kim Mingyu. Endlessly flirting on the clock at Wheelies, making out in the back of the movie theater, rolling around in the sand with a mighty good man...no other 90's dreamboat could ever compare. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf (consensual) sex, fingering, low-key breast play, making out (in public), hickey talk, Mingyu is hung (obvs), he's also portrayed as 'taller' than the mc in interactions, mild to moderate language use, gyu's roomies are sloshed at the end (unrelated to smut or main characters), that should cover all the bases...
Fridays at the roller rink are always busy but this is the first official skate-night of Summer Time ‘99 and it’s like opening day all over again. The schools let out just a few hours ago, releasing hoards of teenagers with pent-up energy loose on your small town and there is a line out the door waiting to get into Wheelies to jump-start their next few months of freedom.
Thankfully, the owners prepared and bought a whole new stock of skates so when you inevitably have to help out at the rental counter you’ll have enough to go around without having to argue with some sixteen-year-old about not having their size.
For now, you’re on the floor making sure everything is running smoothly, gliding around in circles with your hands in your pockets. It’s not too packed just yet even though you can see the steady stream of kids filtering through the doors after hitting the ticket booth. Mothers are packing up their little ones knowing it’s time to head out before it picks up pace and the exchange in skaters coming on and off the floor keeps things pretty even for a short while.
As you pass by the DJ booth for the hundredth time this evening, Vernon pauses to make a goofy face at you while he sets up his equipment. He’s probably the one person who enjoys the summer nights the most because he gets to put on light shows and mix tracks to his heart’s content.
After letting the floor empty a bit more, you come to a stop in front of him for a quick break, crossing your arms and resting them over the top of his carpeted booth.
“You gonna play something special for me tonight, Nonnie?”
He rolls his eyes but grins all the same. “You ask me that every night.”
Laying your head on your arms, you look up at him with a pout, “And yet, no romantic song dedications to your favorite Wheelies girl,” you pick your head up and bat your eyes at him, “I’m starting to think you want to break up with me.”
“I promise if I want to end our made-up relationship, I’ll tell you like a real man. Besides,” Vernon laughs and tilts his chin up, looking at something behind you, “I think you’ve been seeing other people. Hotter Wheels if you catch my drift.”
“Heh, I think he hates that name,” you turn, catching sight of Mingyu ducking into the locker rooms to change out and stow his bag, most likely coming straight from hockey practice. Vernon is back to messing with things when you turn, humming, “Lets be real. I only like boys who don’t like me, Nonnie, that’s why you’re the one.”
“What if he’s like you and only goes for girls who don’t want him?”
At that you laugh, preparing to depart as the floor begins to steadily fill again. “Well then, he’ll be lonely forever because I am pretty sure everyone wants him.”
“Including you?”
Very stealthily, you flip him the bird.
Vernon just laughs it off and gets back to work as you skate away, toying with the whistle tied around your neck. You can tell he’s about to get started with his new set when the lights dim and the carpeted walls and floors outside of the polished skate floor start to glow. The little whirls and shapes coming to life with a neon purple hue.
You catch the line piling up at the rental booth but thankfully, it looks like they called in a few extra hands tonight to help there and in concessions which means you get to stay on the floor. Rentals isn’t the worst, that would be birthday party hosting, but you also hate concessions so you don’t put up a fuss when you’re asked to help with skates or in the front on the rare occasion one of the sweet old ladies manning the ticket windows is out.
As more people start piling onto the floor you slow your pace and skate backward for a few feet to check out your surroundings and find teenagers everywhere, loud and wildly unaware of their surroundings. They aren’t too awful this early in the night but you’re sure you’ll have to escort someone off the floor before closing time.
You’ll enjoy your leisurely pace for now and it seems Wonwoo is keen to do the same on the opposite side of the crowd. He weaves in and out of skaters bobbing his head to the music. His glasses are sitting lower on his nose than usual and you’re sure he’s broken them again…or his little brother did and he’s waiting for their exact replacement to come in so he can switch them out without his brother noticing and feeling any more guilty.
He’s only eight but Wonwoo is his very best friend. They come in on Saturdays together, one of Wonwoo’s only days off, and he teaches his brother to skate for an hour or so before he lets him loose in the arcade and they leave with matching ice cream cones in hand. They even have matching shaggy hairstyles. It’s adorable.
In truth, you’re fond of many of your co-workers but Wonwoo is definitely in your top three for that reason alone. You get along really well with any easy-going personality, it's the same with Vernon. They are both just nice, quiet guys and the exact opposite of the giant shadow hanging over your left shoulder.
Although, you suppose you get along just fine with him as well.
“Quit checking Wonwoo out, you’re breaking my heart.”
Even before he opened his mouth, the distinct cologne he always wore told you Mingyu was finally on the floor, ready to chase you around for the rest of the night like it was his full-time job. He spent more time trying to charm your pants off than doing what he was actually hired to do but he is so damn charming that he somehow gets away with it.
Besides, this is just a part-time gig for him. Might as well enjoy himself while he’s at it.
When you don’t answer right away, he decides to show off his stupidly impressive hockey maneuvers and he swings around in front of you, casually skating backward without bothering to look behind him. He’s big enough that people can’t miss him and they tend to move out of his path pretty quickly. Now that he sees your face, he’s smirking because you don’t even have it in you to hide your smile tonight. “Oh, that’s pretty,” he coos, “My heart’s healing already.”
You grab his arm to pull his hand away from his chest and he spins around to skate at your side, eyes briefly scanning the floor until they’re back on you.
“I wasn’t checking him out but believe me… you’re going to be absolutely devastated when Vernon finally admits he’s in love with me. Game over, buddy.”
Mingyu looks wholly unconvinced. “Well, he’s had long enough and you’re going to fall in love with me by the end of the week so…” he pinches his lips together like he’s just delivered the real, honest, awkward truth and you’re battling butterflies in your stomach.
“End of the week, huh? Are we sure?”
He gets distracted by an increase in volume but for only a moment because Wonwoo is already on it and the quick, sharp sound of his whistle means Mingyu’s full attention is on you again. “That’s what I have circled on my calendar,” he shrugs, “Nothing we can do about it now but let it happen.”
Mingyu’s sense of humor and playful nature are the literal nails in your coffin. You can handle hot with no personality…this one is hot with an overabundance of personality.
You look up at him, probably grinning ear to ear, “Bet you have little hearts doodled all over it with a hot pink gel pen, don’t ya, Hot Wheels?”
He grumbles something under his breath and it makes you snicker. Wonwoo started that one and it seemed to spread throughout the building like wildfire. Now, even the ticket ladies call him Hot Wheels though you’re sure they mean it quite literally whereas Wonwoo was actually just busting Mingyu’s balls about a particularly embarrassing tumble he took.
“Purple gel pen, actually,” he turns and pouts as you both bank around the curve again, “Lost my pink one.”
“Could always steal another one from your little sister.”
At that, he scoffs, the corner of his lips pulled up into a half-smile, “She threw a Barbie car at my head the last time I visited,” he doesn’t even sound upset…it’s more proud than anything, “She reminds me of you sometimes.”
When you go to respond, a young boy accidentally skates too close to you and his wheels knock into yours throwing you both off balance. You catch him by the arm, meeting his panic-stricken eyes, and wait to hit the floor but you rock back against a hard chest and thank all your lucky stars Mingyu was there to save you. The older you get, the harder the floor feels.
“I’m so sorry!” The boy exclaims once you’re all steady again, “I’m not good at this! I promise I wasn’t trying to take you out!”
His genuine concern is sweet and you laugh it off. “It’s totally okay and nobody got hurt,” you tell him and he takes a deep breath, “Wanna go around together a few times?”
The boy’s eyes shine and he nods his head rapidly. Mingyu drops back a few paces and you hold out your arm, elbow tucked into your side. “Okay,” you pat your forearm, “Hold on here…there you go…and we’re going to push off at the same time with the same foot. Hey, Gyu,” you call over your shoulder and he comes back up to your side, waiting for your instructions, “Will you skate a little ahead of us so he can watch you?”
“For sure,” Mingyu grins, picking up speed until he’s far enough away to slow his pace again and remain ahead of you.
The kid is a bit wobbly but he’s trying really hard and it makes you smile. You remember when you first learned to skate and how intimidating the rink was though you were around eight and he looks to be around fourteen. There wasn’t a floor full of bigger, faster kids to compete with though so you think maybe you got off easier.
“You’re doing great,” you encourage him, “Watch him go around the curve to get a better idea of how to steer yourself.”
Mingyu banks it beautifully, as usual. It’s surprising to most people that someone his size could skate so fluidly especially after learning that he only started playing hockey in his early teens. It was just something he had a natural talent for and trading out blades for wheels hadn’t altered his ability to move with grace whatsoever.
You work through the turn together, a little less smoothly, but you make it around and he lets out a short laugh. “He makes it look so easy.”
“Yeah, well he’s had lots and lots of practice and likes to show off.”
Your eyes settle on Mingyu again and as if he can sense you watching, he turns over his shoulder and winks which is not solely witnessed by you because the kid chuckles, following through the next curve with more confidence. “Is he your boyfriend? He’s kinda cool.”
The question catches you off guard and you laugh, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Not my boyfriend but yeah…I guess he’s kinda cool.”
He looks up at you…almost mischievously you’d think, if you knew him better. “I think he wants to be your boyfriend,” he snickers, “He keeps looking at you.”
You huff out a laugh, placing your hand over his before swinging you both into a stop out of the way. “I’m starting to think this is all a ruse and he’s paying you to put in a good word.”
The kid laughs and shakes his head, “No, I’m just nosey and a really lousy skater,” he says, looking up at Mingyu who’s come over and stopped next to you, “Thanks a lot for helping me out,” he looks a little sheepish, hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, “There is this girl at school I like and she’s a figure skater. She asked me out on a date at the ice rink when she comes back from vacation with her family in two weeks and I said yes even though I’m probably going to make a fool of myself. Figured I should start practicing now and falling on wheels is less intimidating than falling with knives on my feet.”
You laugh softly and Mingyu grins, shaking his head. “I admire your dedication to getting the girl, kid. Listen, I coach a youth hockey league at the ice rink down the road and have a free hour a few days a week that I use to practice myself. I’d be happy to teach you if you want.”
The boy’s eyes light up. “That would be so cool!”
Mingyu chuckles, “Alright, awesome. Are one of your parents here with you? I can go talk to them and give them my information.”
“Yeah! My grandma is sitting over there,” he points to the corner where you both make out an older woman sitting alone with a book in hand, surrounded by way too many boisterous young people.
You meet Mingyu’s eyes and both make a face. “Yikes, okay, let’s go save grandma.”
The boy thanks you again and starts to merge back into the flow of skaters as Mingyu smiles at you, pushing off with a ‘Don’t miss me too much’ and a stupid kissy face.
His grin is wild and gorgeous when you wiggle your fingers and whisper, “Bye, lover boy.”
Vernon is smiling at you when you reach his booth and you hop up onto the small ledge that allows a good look at the floor as a whole while also giving your legs a needed break. He’s playing one is his 80’s to 90’s pop mixes and tweaking the rotating lights that dance over the skaters until they start changing colors, neon polka dots as far as the eye can see.
There is a steady exchange of kids coming on and off the floor. Most of the early group heading into the arcade or bombarding the concessions counter while the later crowd takes their place. In between all that, you catch sight of Mingyu speaking with the boy and his Grandma. You don’t even realize that you’re unabashedly smiling at the scene, thinking about how kind and attentive he is when he’s listening. The way he leans in and pulls back, grinning and laughing.
“Still think you’re not into him?” Vernon says over your shoulder, laughing when you startle.
You purse your lips, eyes wandering back over. “I’m simply admiring his social aptitude,” you flick your eyes back up to Vernon and grin, “Why? Is it making you jealous darling?”
He smirks, “Not yet. Gonna have to try harder.”
“Ugh,” you swoon, hand over your heart, “I love it when you play hard to get.”
Vernon nods his head laughing, “Yeahhhh, I know you do.” Then he notices you’ve got your eye on an issue that needs handling and reaches out to pat the top of your head, “Two more hours and they all have to go home to be someone else’s responsibility. I’ll throw in some of your favorite jams.”
Ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough but you appreciate his offer and toss out a few songs for consideration though he’s pretty familiar with your tastes. You step back down onto the floor and blow Vernon a kiss when you immediate recognzie the song he’s jumped into…just for you.
“You really are the best. Check on you in a bit, undercover lover.”
He throws up a peace sign and you cut across the floor to ask a couple of kids who were just blowing and popping bubbles to go spit out their gum as it’s clearly stated that it's not allowed on the floor. They don’t love your request and start to argue but Mingyu sneaks up behind you again and dazzles them with a smile. Just like that, the two young girls start giggling and falling all over themselves to do exactly as asked…all because the pretty guy said ‘Please’.
It’s comical, honestly.
Mingyu is smirking when he rolls along beside you, bending at the waist to peek up at your face because it’s aimed at the floor as you try to school your features. He’s so irritatingly flirtatious and you’re too quickly playing into his hand tonight. You’re usually better than this, holding out well until you’re pulling out of the parking lot.
“Oh, yeah,” he intones, “Tonight is definitely the night. You’re giving in. You can’t resist me any longer. It was bound to happen. You’re still smiling! I can see it!”
Laughing, you pull your head up and give him a look that you would have loved to be firm but it’s not in the slightest. How can you be serious when he is so not serious? “Don’t you dare,” you warn with a loose laugh tacked on at the end, “I told you, we’re not going on a date.”
Mingyu shrugs, “So, movies tomorrow night?”
“Don’t you work tomorrow?”
He bats his eyes with a saccharine smile, “I love that you know my schedule by heart,” he ignores your eye roll, “Wonu’s covering my shift since he owed me one and also because he’s a true romantic. He’s rooting for us and we can’t disappoint him.”
“Well, I suppose if it’s what Wonwoo wants…” you look up at him, eyes glittering with excitement, “When are you picking me up?”
For as calm and cool as Mingyu keeps it on the outside, he’s buzzing on the inside because he’s been toying around with the idea of taking you out forever. And he’s asked…more than once…but you’ve kept him on his toes and he’s enjoyed the playing the game but he’s elated that you’re finally saying yes.
He tries to school is face but he’s still beaming as he tries to casually say, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Seven?” you snicker, “Isn’t that a little late to get started? You keeping me out all night?”
He just shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.”
Mingyu shows up nearly twenty minutes early and you can see his car outside your condo. He doesn’t make a move to get out and it’s amusing to watch as he nervously drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a few beats before reaching for the door like he’s going to get out, and then shaking his head before resuming the fidgeting. It’s also a relief to know he’s feeling the same jitters you are.
The thought crossed your mind to pop your head out to wave him inside but he might be giving himself a pep-talk and you’re still contemplating your outfit.
The movie theater is always so cold. You debated the pros and cons of wearing something short-sleeved because on one hand, if you’re cold it might prompt your date to keep you warm but on the other hand, if he didn’t, you’d be freezing the whole time.
You could bring a jacket, but that’s an extra thing to carry.
Digging through your closet, you pull out a fuzzy black long-sleeved sweater. You hold it out, admiring the way it’s cropped a little shorter in the front, and then turn back to the mirror, holding it up to your chest. It would look cute with the Levi’s you’re wearing…decisions, decisions.
A car horn beeps and you peer out of your window seeing Mingyu rigid behind the wheel. You laugh, thinking he probably did not mean to do it and is embarrassed at having accidentally made too much noise. That’s pretty obvious by the way he’s looking around, paranoid and frustrated. It’s actually super cute and you’re lingering by the window now just admiring him from afar without care
Until you see Mingyu cut the engine and get out of the car. Then the panic sets in because you’re still not ready and well…it’s the first time he’s seeing you outside of work and not in uniform. You want him to be wowed and are probably still taking too long to get moving considering how brisk of a stride you know his to be. He’ll be here any second.
You scramble to pull on the sweater in your hands and run into the bathroom to grab your gold hoops, fix your hair, and check your makeup one last time. Your heart is racing but you smile at your reflection. He sees you all the time at work looking not even half as done-up as you are right now and thinks you’re a solid 10, so there isn’t really any doubt he’ll be pleased. Then the doorbell rings.
A few deep breaths to calm your nerves comes first. When you open the door, Mingyu’s mouth is fixed like he had a line locked and loaded but when he sees you, he chokes on the words. He’s so flustered that he stumbles back a step, laughing at himself. “Oh, you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”
That lights you up from the inside out and brings your confidence back around full circle.
“Have I ever made things easy for you?” you snicker, grabbing your purse off the hook by the door, “I think you like a challenge.”
“Nah, I just like you,” he smirks, tongue poking the end of his pointed canine as he watches you close and lock the door, trying his hardest to be respectful, “You look really good. Have I said that yet?”
Stashing your keys in your purse, you turn and grin up at him. “You alluded to it but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it out loud.”
Always playing and teasing and flirting. It’s almost too much for you both to bear at this point.
“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he says softly but he reaches toward you, slipping his hand just behind your hip to pull you closer with a bold, sharp tug. Startled, you bump right into Mingyu’s chest and look up at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a minute and then tilts his head back, sighing into the sky above. He’s mostly amused when he looks back at you.
“You look incredible…and we should get in the car before I ruin the illusion of me being a gentleman.”
“That image has been splintering for a while but I don’t think I’ll mind if a manner or two slips,” you tease as you pull apart, taking the time to look him up and down…
Light-washed jeans, crisp white t-shirt, open flannel hanging off his broad shoulders…”You look really good too,” you murmur in appreciation.
He’s about to sweating straight through his shirt if you keep looking at him like that.
“...yep…time to go,” he mumbles, pinching is lips together as he grabs your hand. He pulls you toward the parking lot which isn’t far, and opens the door for you to slip into his passenger seat. He doesn’t let go until you’re settled and takes it a touch further when he reaches in and grabs the seatbelt before you. His hand purposely grazes against the exposed skin between your pants and top as he buckles you in and you let out the breath you were holding the second he closes your door.
It’s getting more difficult to play hard-to-get by the millisecond but you’re willing to give in first if your reward is Mingyu breaking down bit by bit right in front of you.
You bite your lip to keep from giggling when he quickly rounds the car and settles into his seat next to you. He’s still shaking his head, quietly laughing at himself for getting so easily worked up. He turns over the engine, shifting into drive, and peers over at you with an air of disbelief.
“I’m starting to think we’re gonna have to sit in separate rows at this rate.”
Thankfully, the tension melts into easy banter and conversation on the ride to the theater. Mingyu entertains you with stories about his family and asks after yours, specifically your beloved niece whom he loves hearing about. He lets you toy around with his radio and blare some Spice Girls song that neither of you sings along to with the correct pitch…or words. It’s a blast either way.
Bold flirtation aside, Mingyu has always been a gentleman where it counts.
When you arrive at the movie theater, he opens all the doors, holds your hand every chance he gets, pays for your tickets and snacks despite your protesting, and lets you choose where to sit. The theater isn’t very full, though the movie you both decided on has been out for a while so it’s not all that surprising to see so many open seats. There are a few people scattered here and there and you don’t particularly love sitting next to others if you can avoid it.
That leaves the very front or the very back.
You glance over your shoulder at Mingyu, patiently waiting for you to decide, “You really don’t care?”
He shakes his head again with a soft smile and you sigh looking back at the open seats, “I don’t like being super close…are you okay with sitting up top?”
Mingyu’s eyes scan the very empty top rows and widen like he hadn’t actually realized how secluded they were until just now. “Totally cool,” he manages after a moment, “Lead the way.”
“Oh boy,” you whisper to yourself, turning to make your way up the stairs. You have to focus ahead and calculate the distance of each step so you don’t screw up and trip because that would be awfully embarassing. It’s dark, cold, and quiet, and there is a huge gap between the section you’re headed toward and the next closest couple sitting in the middle.
The very last row was almost too intimidating as if it somehow was the designated spot reserved for horny, depraved teenagers, and you were mid-twenty adults…so you stopped once you hit the second to last row and cut in a few seats before deciding that sitting in the middle was also weird so you dropped into the fourth seat from the aisle and forced yourself to stay put.
PIcking a seat and sticking with it has never been so daunting before.
Mingyu doesn’t say anything at all about your choice, much to your relief. If he cracked a joke about it, you think you might just burst at the seams. He just sits down in the seat next to you folding his very large frame into the too-tight space between the armrests. You’re both quiet as the lights dim and the previews start rolling but you can still feel him wiggling and adjusting himself next to you.
Your eyes meet when he accidentally bumps your arm and you smile at the fact that he is genuinely embarrassed, for no reason at all other than unintentionally taking up extra space. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I don’t remember the seats feeling this cramped.”
“It’s really okay,” you turn, tucking his elbow safely into his side as you lift the armrest between you to give him more room, “We can share.”
“Are you sure?” his eyes seek yours again in the darkness, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
You quietly snicker at his worry when he was the one being so brazen with your proximity earlier. At the same time, you can appreciate his consideration and reassure him with a gentle smile. “I really don’t mind…the extra body heat is appreciated.”
You can feel the moment Mingyu lets the tension flow out of his body. His shoulders relax until your arms touch lightly, his legs spread a little further apart as he sinks into his seat, firm thigh now pressed to the outside of your own. He’s warm and his cologne, as usual, is so rich and alluring that you know you’re going to be fighting the urge to mold yourself to his side for the next hour and a half.
Surprisingly, the movie isn’t half bad even though it was one you chose because every other film out was either super sad or overtly romantic and neither genre felt like a good fit for a first date. ‘Black Mask’ had a decent balance of action scenes and suspense that pretty easily kept your eyes on the screen, at least for a little while, sharing sour gummy worms and a soda between the two of you.
Your attention began to wane after the third time you bumped hands with Mingyu and it was lost entirely when he decided to simply hold your hand instead. Movie plot gone in an instant.
Instead of the screen, your eyes fall to your joined hands resting in his lap. They climb up to his chest, slowly rising and falling with each measured breath. Carefully, you let them slide higher, admiring the shadows projected over his throat and jaw. Higher to admire his handsome face. Higher again, just to get a little more of him, and when you get there, you find him staring back.
Neither of you shy away this time. Mingyu nervously licks his lips and his eyes flit down to yours, only for a second, just to reassure himself that you’re both on the same wavelength even though the chemistry between you has always been pretty clear. He still hesitates before he leans closer but you’re done waiting and choose to kiss him first.
It’s soft, brief, and when you part, you can see the smile on his handsome face and it brings the butterflies in your stomach back to life all over again. He cups your cheek and pulls you back into another kiss, and then another, and another. A million times you’d thought about kissing Mingyu and this was still far better than any you’d imagined thus far.
Actually kissing him highlights the small details you were missing. The bits of it that are unique and a part of him only. It’s the way his thumb strokes against your cheek, how he tilts his face and changes his angle so fluidly that you follow him like it’s completely natural, the tender way he’s slow to let go of your bottom lip and how he kisses it afterward.
It’s certainly not your first kiss or even the first time you’ve made out with someone at the movies, but this feels entirely new. Mingyu is not some hopped up, horny kid. He takes his time with you, he’s gentle, patient. It’s not sloppy or rushed. He isn’t trying to clumsily cop a feel the whole time, though, you think you’d probably let him and that he wouldn’t fumble around at all. It feels like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t.
You hope that you feel natural to him too.
He pulls back with a slow hum of appreciation and that’s good enough for you.. When your eyes meet, you’re both smiling, and Mingyu takes that as his good sign. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side until he feels your body relax against his and you finish the movie just like that.
Well, you’re both looking at the screen but you’re more focused on the way he continues to kiss your hair every few minutes and he’s locked on to the feeling of your nails gently drawing a line up and down his thigh.
Eventually, the lights come on and you’re a little slow to untangle as the rest of the theater clears out. It’s entirely empty by the time either of you hit the stairs.
“Soooo,” Mingyu hums, trailing behind you half a step, “Thoughts…opinions…? On the movie, of course.”
You laugh without turning around and nod your head, “Right…the movie, yeah. Just as the trailer promised,” you focus on your feet moving a step at a time and not tripping, “Perfectly executed action sequences.”
He grins to himself, tucking his chin into his chest. “I’m glad it lived up to all the hype,” he balances his weight on one foot before taking the next step, “Nothing worse than all that anticipation ending in disappointment.”
You peer over your shoulder at him, smiling coyly, “Oh, no disappointment here. I’m sure i’ll be thinking about it for quite some time.”
He huffs out a laugh, “Are we talking about the movie or the kiss?”
“What kiss?” you smirk, quickly turning around to hurry down the rest of the steps but he’s right behind you the whole way.
Just as you whip around the corner and into the dim hallway that leads to the exit, Mingyu catches you around the waist and pins you up against the wall. You can feel his heart thudding under your palms, the thrill of excitement hardly contained in his chest as his lips crash into yours.
Disappointment is so very far from your realm of feeling at the moment. Any expectation you had, which admittedly was already pretty high, was shattered and elevated yet another level each time his tongue danced across the seam of your lips or when his hands made another pass over your body.
From the beginning, you theorized that Mingyu was more than just a smooth talker. You had him pegged as a man with follow-through and you’re simply rolling in it, knowing you were right, and now you’re experiencing it for yourself which makes things that much more gratifying.
Mingyu was a certified lover boy. Called and confirmed it.
The very best part, you think to yourself as you feel him grin against your lips, is that he’s yours…or at least, he wants to be. You don’t have to let him know he’s already won.
He’s still smiling when you slide your hands over his arms, pointedly squeezing the ample muscle there, and he finishes you off with a few final, fluttering kisses.
When your eyes meet, there is a buzz of nervous laughter and Mingyu again asks, “So, the movie or the kiss?”
Your gaze drifts back down to his mouth and your stomach twists torturously when his knowing smirk reveals a prettily pointed canine. The same that’s bitten into your bottom lip a few times already this evening. You look back up and narrow your eyes playfully, “I don’t recall any kissi-”
He leans back down, slotting his lips against yours and the second he so much as breathes the door at the end of the hall clicks open and you hear two voices, likely the staff coming to clean the theater, and here you two delinquints are still splattered against the wall playing tonsil hockey.
Mingyu freezes and your eyes are wide as saucers. “Go, go around the other way!”
You have to slip out from under his frame and drag him a few feet before his mind catches up and you’re both scrambling back across the theater to the exit on the opposite side. As quietly as you can, you peek out of the small window to make sure the coast is clear and pop the door open for you both to come tumbling out.
The wide corridor outside the theater is mercifully empty but the adrenaline in your bodies’ leaves you jogging toward the side exit, laughter bubbling up and out into the open space around you. It’s all so silly and exhilarating, and when Mingyu grabs your hand, pulling you through the doors out into that warm summer air, you’re sure you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so…alive.
Or maybe there is just something about the moon and stars, and the way their enchanting glow seems to make everything in their wake just a little more beautiful. He’s one of those things - bright, beautiful, feathered and soft around the edges.
You’ve stopped to catch your breath but it remains trapped in your chest the longer you look at him. It’s suddenly a little heavy, this crush of yours, weighed down by impression of his hands on your hips, your face, the small of your back. Flirting and teasing was easy. Agreeing to finally go out with him was easy. Realizing the potential for more was real and standing in front of you was a shock to your system because you’re uncovering very quickly how much you want that with him.
“We should definitely go to dairy queen.”
It takes a minute to process his words and then with a little shake, you lift your head to find Mingyu smiling back down at you. “Feels like the movie might have left you with a lot to think about and nothing helps me sort through my head quite like ice cream.”
You cock your head to the side, the tension in your chest evaporating just like that.
“Have you always this charming?”
“When I put in the extra effort, which is only for you, sure,” he chuckles, using your joined hands to pull you a little closer as you walk alongside eachother through the parking lot, “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea though.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” you scoff, bumping into his arm with your shoulder, “Everyone loves you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”
His tongue pokes into his cheek, rolling his eyes skyward, “You missed the guy I had to escort out of the rink a couple weeks ago who took a few swings at me in the parking lot. Pretty sure he was not enthralled by my dazzling smile and strapping good looks.”
“One person…that’s all you got?”
Reaching his car, Mingyu opens the passenger door for you and waits until you’re seated and looking up at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smirks, “Buckle up, you’re in for a ride.”
After grabbing ice cream, you decided making your date drive over to the shore was favorable to sitting on the sticky red tables outside the DQ, so instead, you’re sitting side by side on a small gym towel he miraculously had in his trunk, eating your deserts and swapping stories to the tune of the gentle waves crashing ashore.
So far, you’ve learned that the sole reason Mingyu got into hockey in the first place was because he was in constant trouble as a kid…in school, at home, or literally anywhere else he happened to be. His poor mother tried to put him in every sport and hobby she could think of to keep him busy and out of trouble but baseball wasn’t a fit, basketball ended in another fist fight and suspension, football benched a few and landed one kid in the hospital, and any form of martial arts was out of the question.
Finally, she found an ad in the newspaper for boy’s hockey team tryouts and the rest was history. You can clearly hear the admiration in his voice when he spoke about his original coach and his teammates. How it was touch and go from the start but no matter how much hot water he found himself in, they wouldn’t quit on him. When he realized that, he started pouring all of his pent up energy into the game and it changed him in all the best ways. It’s the whole reason he coaches today…to be someone who can make a positive change in a kid’s life the way his coach did for him.
Honestly, it’s hard to imagine Mingyu as anything other than the kind, gentle, playful guy you know him to be but everyone grows and changes. He still has a wild sort of glint in his eyes at times that lead you to believe every word he’s said about his younger years.
The sea breeze is crisp and almost a little chilly despite the warm air it mixes with so you push a little closer into Mingyu’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Cold?”
“A bit,” you roll your head toward him, resting it against the crook of his shoulder, “Kinda just wanted to be close to you again…despite your delinquent past, I think I like you a little.”
“A little?” he smirks, eyes darting to your mouth briefly, “I think you like me a lot.”
Scrunching your nose, you make a face at him and he tosses his head back and laughs.
“If you don’t admit it soon I’m going to have to make a huge, probably embarrassing, for you, romantic gesture,” he counters, looking very half-serious, “A big old fashioned declaration of love…in public…loudly.”
“You’re still a little shit, aren’t you?”
“Don’t pretend you aren’t loving the reformed bad boy thing.” He’s spot on because Mingyu is the exact kind of guy you would have had a crush on back then too.
You let out a long sigh and pick your head up, leaning to the side to bury your now-empty cup in the sand so it doesn’t blow away just like Mingyu had on his side. In the process, Mingyu slips his arm a little lower on your back, his hand curled around your hip to keep you balanced. You love every single point of contact so you fall right back into his side when you sit up again.
“To be fair, I think you’re only partly reformed,” more smirking, “Mhm, that’s exactly what I mean,” you hum in amusement, “Listen, I’ll give in…just a little…and admit that there are a lot of things I love about you..”
“I’m listening,” he purrs, ready for the boost in confidence you’re surely about to give him. Anything that could even vaguely resemble a compliment would send him over the moon coming from you.
“I love the way…you genuinely enjoy helping people,” you start quietly, soothing the subtle nerves beginning to tingle in your fingertips, “I love that you put so much time and effort into coaching your kids and how much you love talking about them…how you’ll roll your eyes and shake your head telling me stories about them and yet you always finish with a smile because ‘they’re a handful but they’re good kids’”
Mingyu snorts softly and you knowingly ask, “There’s lots of little Mingyu’s on your team, aren’t there?”
He nods slowly, pushing the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “Ohhh yeahhh,” he breathes out with a light chuckle, “I understand now why my coach made me run drills until I dropped. I’ve got a couple that have already outshined my reputation at their age and some days it’s a battle of wills but they’ve come along way,” he ducks his head, grinning, “Hoping they’re the extent of my karma and it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass when I have kids one day.”
He makes a face right after he says it and looks down at you almost apologetically, “Was that weird to say on a first date? I feel like that’s something you’re supposed to avoid but you’re easy to talk to and words just fall out of my mouth sometimes.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you laugh, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I know it’s a first date but we’re not strangers, besides, I’ve always just assumed you were a family kind of guy. You talk about yours all the time, super close with your little sister, and from all i’ve witnessed, you’re just kinda great with kids in general,” you shrug, easing his worry, “I promise, it’s not a shock to me that you’d want your own and I’ll save you the torture of wondering whether to ask or not…yes, I’d like to have kids someday. Someday farrrrr away in the future.”
“Oh, good,” he chuckles, “Me too...lightyears away.”
It’s not on either of your radars currently but it’s nice to know that you have common goals for the future. It leaves a brief pause in the conversation, though not an uncomfortable one. Just a quiet moment to soak things in.
First date, first kiss(es), and it’s all going…perfectly.
It’s one thing to flirt and banter with a cute co-worker but taking the leap and going on a date together is a whole different game. There are very real feelings on both sides of the court and the potential for something real and permanent is so palpable you can feel it pushing you closer to one another. Leap again. Put yourself out there and trust the other will catch you.
Mingyu breaks the silence first and you feel his fingers twitch against your back.
“I really like you,” he says steadily, like that was the easy part, “I think you’re beautiful inside and out, stop laughing i’m being serious,” he grins and you try to reel it in for his sake, “My first day on the job I was blatantly called out and laughed at by Wonwoo after he caught me spacing out and staring at you for the third time…I don’t think I even made it an hour into my shift before I was hooked.”
“Oh, I thought you were being serious?” you grin.
“Shhhh,” he counters, “I’m not done.”
“Where was I? Oh yeah…you’re a good friend and a good person, and I like having you in my life,” he says softly, picking up your hand and pulling it into his lap, “I want to bring you home to meet my family so my mom can drag out the photo albums the way she’s always joked about doing while my sister spends the whole time telling you embarrassing things about me. They would like like you a lot. The boys on my team already like you.”
“Oh?”
He laughs, “Oh yeah, they’re always in my business and I made the mistake of bringing you up at a practice once so you’re a regular topic of discussion. I should have known I was doomed from then on and they’re brutal sometimes. One kid called me a loser because he’s fourteen and has a girlfriend and I don’t.”
“Is that how you’re asking me out? Trying to get the sympathy vote because you’re getting picked on by a bunch of kids?” you smirk.
“Maybe…is it working?” he asks, gaze dipping to your mouth for the millionth time tonight.
“I don’t know yet,” you inch a little closer, “Maybe you should try softening me up a little more before you ask again.”
He pauses, hovering just a breadth away from your face and his open mouth pulls into a sly grin, “By any means necessary?”
“Do what you have to do I suppos-”
“Niiccceee hickey.”
You slap a hand over the mark you swore you’d covered well enough with concealor, apparently not, and whip your head in Vernon’s direction. “Can you not announce it loud enough for everyone to hear?”
Vernon glances side to side. “There is literally no one except us in here and that thing announced itself.”
“What thing?”
Wonwoo comes in and drops his bag on the wooden bench, pulling out his uniform top to shrug over his shoulders. His glasses sit askew on his face and you really hope he’s got good insurance because they’re always in awful shape.
You turn and press your forehead against the cool metal of your locker door and Vernon chuckles, stowing his things noisely. “The physical evidence to prove that her date went abundantly well.”
Wonwoo smirks, walking closer to pry your hand away from your neck. He whistles. “Damn, Mingyu’s a biter…not surprised. Good luck hiding that thing - it’s going to be with you for a while.”
“Ok. Hickey expert. Thanks for your input,” you grumble.
He shrugs. “We all have interests and hobbies, and you’re welcome.”
You roll your eyes and turn around, leaning back against your locker with a pout. “I’m kinda nervous that we’re working together tonight for the first time since we went out. Do you think it will be weird?”
Vernon makes a goofy face. “Why would it be weird? I thought you said everything went well and you’re like, dating now? Did something happen?”
“No, everything was great,” you slump down a little further, “Like…too great. I’m trying not to jinx things or be weird. Are we too old to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that a thing for adults? Or did we grow out of that after high school?”
Wonwoo rolls his eyes, fixing the notch on his belt, “No, we’re not too old for that. He’s your boyfriend. You’re his girlfriend. Simple.”
“Is it?” you reply with a unintentional snap that doesn’t phase either of them.
Vernon sits on the bench in front of you and stretches his back out, groaning like an old man. “Yes, simple. You like him and he likes you, and you have fun together. I fail to see the problem.”
“Yeah, that’s like, the opposite of a problem,” Wonwoo agrees, “Besides…being left alone in the rink after hours sounds mighty convenient if you ask me.”
Snapping your jaw shut, your eyes widen, “What exactly are you suggesting?”
Wonwoo smirks, “I’m not suggesting anything but an opportunist would use their imagination.”
Both you and Vernon peg Wonwoo with a suspicious stare.
“With all due respect,” you say slowly, your eyebrow steadily raising with each word, “I didn’t think you rolled like that.”
“Neither did I,” Vernon adds, equally intrigued.
“You’re kind of a freak, aren’t you?”
“Who’s a freak?”
All three of you startle and whirl around to see Mingyu coming through the door. His hair is wet, likely freshly showered after hockey practice, and he’s looking at each of you with a clueless grin.
“Nothing and no one!” you reply with a grin, already floating toward the hunk in the doorway, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he grins down at you, “I see you and I got stuck closing tonight.”
You swallow down the knot in your throat and hold up a middle finger behind your back directed at Vernon and Wonwoo’s snickering.
“Yep,” you bounce on your toes, “Just you and I…closing everything down…together…tonight.”
Mingyu’s lips pinch together to hold in a laugh. You were always so bold and confident when it came to teasing him and now, he can tell you’re having to make a great effort to hold it all together. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he chooses, satisfied when your eyes widen just a touch, “I think Jim’s looking for you by the way. If you’re done getting-”
“Yes,” you squeeze his arms and then move past him at lightening speed, rushing out the door.
Mingyu just stands there and laughs quietly before looking up to see the grin on Vernon and Wonwoo’s faces. “Alright, how much did she tell you?”
“Didn’t have to tell us much at all.”
Wonwoo shakes his head. “The bite marks you left told us everything we needed to know.”
Mingyu’s eyes drop to the floor as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. He’s glad the ones you left on him are covered by his collar because he just barely got away with blaming it on equipment mishandling when one of the older boys in his youth league pointed one out with a mischievous laugh.
Vernon claps a hand over his shoulder on his way out the door causing Mingyu to look back up again. “Happy for you, dude. She’s a good one.”
Mingyu smiles softly, “Thanks, man.”
When he leaves, Mingyu pushes further into the room and starts getting himself situated, glancing over at Wonwoo every now and then like he’s waiting for him to say something.
“I can feel you staring,” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes now glued to his Game Boy Pocket as he tries to save his progress from earlier.
Mingyu shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, pushing his bag into his locker.
Wonwoo puts his game down and looks up. “Whaddaya want, Hot Wheels?”
He pauses, making a face at the nickname, and then carefully asks, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is it for me to-”
“Make a move tonight?”
Mingyu’s mouth pops open. “Oh,” he blinks, “You read minds too?”
Wonwoo sighs and leans back a touch, both hands gripping the edge of the bench beneath him. “To be fair, that’s exactly what I’d be thinking about if I were in your position. Empty building…gorgeous girlfriend…”
Mingyu scoffs, “Alright, easy…”
He gets a smirk in return and Wonwoo stands, stretching his long limbs. “I’m not wrong and also not interested in your girl so relax,” he leans down and tugs on the laces of his skates and then straightens out, “You both think too much. Just be normal. Do the same lovey dovey, flirty shit you always do and see how the night goes.”
“You’re kind of good at this,” Mingyu compliments, his lips pulling into a half-smirk, “What do you get up to when you’re off the clock and not playing big brother of the year?”
Nearing the door, Wonwoo just turns over his shoulder and tosses Mingyu a wink.
He’s handed out enough advice for one night.
You were still jittery when Mingyu joined you out on the floor but falling into the same routine was pretty simple, just like Vernon and Wonwoo said, and it took loads of anxious tension off your shoulders. If anything, Mingyu was more playful with his teasing and a little more bold with his physical affection when others weren’t paying attention.
It was like a game of how flustered he could make you without getting in trouble for fooling around on the job. The floor was crowded which simply meant he got to stay a little closer to you without looking suspicious which allowed him to find out how fun it was to pull you around by the belt loops of your pants.
He loved the little noise of surprise you let out every time he snuck up behind you, hooking his finger through the loop to tug you back against his chest where he pretended to tell you something important. Like he was just trying to talk to you over the sound of the music when he had nothing but more teasing to whisper in your ear.
The hours flew by unnoticed and before long, you were bidding your last goodbyes to the rest of the staff having finished their own cleaning and closing duties.
Mingyu went into the office to toy with the audio system after you asked to throw something on just so it wasn’t silent in the big dark building while you followed Vernon and Wonwoo to the doors to lock up after them.
Vernon shifts his bag on his shoulder and cuts a sideways glance in your direction. “You gonna be okay?”
You shrug, touched and confused he’d asked. “Yeah, I’ve closed up a million times. All good.”
Wonwoo pats the top of your head like a puppy. They both have a habit of that.
“He meant, are you gonna be okay here alone with Mingyu? Are you comfortable with us leaving - not that I think he’d ever do something to hurt or upset you…I’d kill him and he knows it…but you give us the word and we’ll stay.”
“Oh,” you blink and wave your hands dismissively, “No, we’re good! I was just worried about being a loser earlier but we’re totally fine!”
“We thought so,” Vernon grins, pushing the glass door open, “Just checking.”
It’s sweet and embarrassing that they’d thought to ask and you tell them as much as you gently push Vernon through the doorway. “Thought for a minute you were finally ready to confess,” you joke, fake pout on your lips and all, “I’ll drop him like a hot potato if you ask, Nonnie.”
Wonwoo follows him out and laughs, “You’re full of shit but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment. By the way, if you find yourself in need…Jihoon keeps condoms in his locker.”
You slap a hand over your mouth, covering your shocked laughter. “First of all, mind your business and second, what the hell?!”
Vernon shrugs, “Man likes to be prepared I guess!”
….Line cooks are one of a kind. Truly.
You’re shaking your head as they wave goodbye and walk off toward Wonwoo’s car as it must have been his turn to carpool. Pulling the doors shut, you carefully lock each one and double check them before turning on your heel and then the music cuts on over the speakers. It’s not crazy loud but enough to keep the odd sounds that accompany a big old building from rattling in your ears.
Mingyu pops his head out of the office when you round the corner and you cock your head in question, “Beastie Boys?”
“Couldn’t get the discs to work so radio it is,” he shrugs, “I can find something else if you want.”
You shake your head, brushing past his shoulder into the small office to sit down and reconcile the financials for the night. “I’m not picky. Did you already grab the bags from the registers?”
He nods, “Yep, everything’s there and Jim left the keys for the safe in the desk,” Mingyu squeezes your shoulders when you sit down and you smile up at him. “I’m going to knock out the kitchen and rental walk-throughs while you count if that’s okay? After that we will just have shut down the arcade and I can take out the left over trash bags.”
“That would be amazing,” you tell him, head still cushioned against the office chair as you smile lazily up at him, “I just love a man that knows how to take charge and get the job done.”
He immediately chokes out a laugh and turns on his heel muttering something about how ‘he’s not going to get anything done if you keep that up’ as he walks away.
It takes another full minute to bring the task at hand back into focus and you have to consciously fight off the intrusive inappropriate thoughts clouding your brain when it’s supposed to be crunching numbers. You even have to recount a few bags because the image of Mingyu sitting you on the desk you’re working at to do dirty things with you keeps popping into your head and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. After probably twice the amount of time it usually takes you to do the financials, you’re finally done and locking the safe when Mingyu returns.
“Oh, hey,” you perk up when you notice him in the doorway, “Ready to go do the arcade?”
“Already done,” he snickers, “I came back after walk-throughs and caught you cursing and restarting your counts so I just went ahead and finished up the list.”
“Oh!” you shift on your feet, “...guess we’re all done then.”
Mingyu crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame looking extra swoon-worthy. Not a single poster of your favorite 80s and 90s heartthrobs plastered to the walls of your old bedroom held a candle to the picture in front of you and he knows it.
“You sound disappointed. I’m sure we could find other things to do if you wanna stay a little longer,” his eyes shift over to the audio system, still playing a mix of alternative and pop hits, and fixes his eyes back on you, “Ever considered making out with someone in an empty skating rink with No Doubt playing over the speakers?”
“Can’t say I have. What about you?”
Mingyu grins, shifting his weight to tower over you, “Thought just now crossed my mind.”
He slides one hand beneath your jaw and the other over your hip, slotting his lips against yours as he walks you back until you bump into the desk behind you. After teasing you with your belt loops all night, you decide to return the favor, licking at the seam of his lips as you hook your fingers in his front loops and pull him closer. He laughs against your lips and pulls back to meet your eyes. “That’s my move.”
“I liked it, so I think I’ll steal it,” you smirk, tugging at the loops still.
“We should probably get our things and head out before I do something stupid and incredibly irresponsible,” he chuckles though there is a very real edge to his tone like he’s trying hard to behave himself right now.
“What kind of stupid and irresponsible things?” you test him, releasing his belt loops to hook your index finger into the waist band of his pants instead, “I might be interested.”
The hand on your hip squeezes and he bites out a laugh. “Who’s the delinquent now?”
“Still you, but I recounted those bags because I kept getting interrupted by steamy office fantasies popping into my head so if you’d rather take me home before we make questionable decisions, we should probably leave now.”
He groans, torn between having to wait or giving in and having you right here, right now. The cons would be that it’s A.) your work place, B.) it’s not the cleanest place to hook up, and C.) he has to wait when his body is begging him otherwise.
As luck has it, you decide for him.
“Can we go to your place? My roommate is home tonight and she’s got hard rules against hooking up when the other is home. She doesn’t even really like when I have friends over but her name is on the lease so I don’t argue much.”
Mingyu shuts off his internal debate processing, grateful to have you choose for the both of you. “My roommates work the late shift at the bar on 89th so they will probably come home at some point but they don’t care about guests…or girlfriends. We respect that rule in regards to privacy.”
“Ugh,” you rolls your eyes, relaxing in his hold, “That must be so nice. Got an extra room at your place?”
“Got plenty of space for you in mine,” he smirks, “Alright let me grab our bags from the locker room and we’ll get out of here. Did you drive?”
You shake your head, moving to turn off the audio system, “No, I took the bus today.”
“Sweet, we’ll take my car home and won’t have to worry about leaving yours.”
It’s funny how you’re both being so casual at the moment as if you weren’t pinned up against the desk, debating whether you should desecrate the business office, and now you’re both going about your normal routines as if you didn’t just agree that you’re leaving to go directly to his place to hook up for the first time.
It catches up with you when Mingyu pulls up to the front of his shared beach house and cuts the engine. You look at the light blue house and catch the subtle sounds of the ocean not far off. “I had no idea you lived on the island,” you share as you get out of the car and walk together toward the door.
Mingyu hands you the key and takes your bag so you can open the door. “Yeah, we’ve been here about a year now. Used to share a condo a little further in but we spend a lot of time at the beaches here so when this place opened up we snagged it as quick as we could.”
Pushing inside, it’s exactly what you imagine a triad of bachelors to live in. Everything is clean but the couch is a futon, there are two cd towers filled with music you’d love to check out, a few bean bag chairs, a stereo system big enough to take up half a wall, and theres a couple of empty corona bottles spread on the low table in the living room next to a few gaming controllers.
Mingyu groans when he sees them and glances over apologetically. “I definitely asked them to clean those up when I left this morning. You’d think a couple of bartenders would know how to recycle empty beer bottles. I swear we have manners.”
You laugh and follow him to what you assume is his bedroom down the hall. He opens the door and drops both bags next to his dresser before flicking on a lamp. “Wasn’t expecting to bring you back here so I am glad my cleaning habits are something of use,” he pulls open a drawer and grabs a random t-shirt before handing it to you, “Here, you can wear this if you want and I’ll show you where the bathroom is…I just uhhh..I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable changing out of your uniform.”
You raise a brow at him, “What? My Dickies and pinstrip ref polo aren’t sexy enough for you?”
He smirks back, “Anything you wear is sexy enough for me but the sex and dating column in Cosmopolitan’s spring magazine says a woman’s comfort comes before all else and is the key to a healthy, thriving relationship.”
“You read Cosmo?”
He shrugs, “Had to pick my mom and sister up at the hair salon and got there on time which was apparently thirty minutes early. There was nothing else to do.”
“Learn anything else?” you ask just before he leaves you at the bathroom door.
Mingyu tugs the frosty bleached tips of his hair. “Learned six new ways to accesorize with butterfly clips and that my horoscope for last month was only half correct,” he grins, “Let me know if you need anything, babe, i’m gonna use the other bathroom to clean up.”
You mumble back an OK and shut the door, bumping into the counter. “Babe?” you repeat quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror.
The reality of you having a super-hot-hockey-player boyfriend who is also insanely sweet and volunteers his free time to coach a youth league, and is an amazing kisser, and the kind of guy that calls you babe, crashes into you completely and you’re scrambling to clean yourself up, change, steal some mouthwash, and give yourself a full pep talk before you emerge god knows how long later.
Following the same path back to Mingyu’s room, you pause at the door and take a deep breath before re-entering his space.
He’s laying in his bed tossing a small blue ball up and down with one hand while he waits. You’re pleased to see that he decided not to put a shirt on, lounging only in a pair of basketball shorts, because you also decided to ditch half your clothing. The opposite half.
The ball lands in his palm with an audible smack and he looks up when you step into his room, closing the door behind you.
“Wait right there,” he throws out a hand as you take a step closer and you hesitate, “I just want to burn this image into my memory for all of eternity.”
Rolling your eyes with a soft laugh, you walk the rest of the way over to Mingyu who reaches for your hand and pulls you up onto his bed to straddle his lap comfortably. His hands move up and down your thighs and he’s smiling at you all the while. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs and then shakes his head when you try to brush him off. “Genuinely. I’m not just saying that to get in your pants. You’re not even wearing pants to get into.”
He’s amusing and captivating when he’s like this, hands exploring every inch of exposed skin, chest pressed against yours, his face turned up as he looks at you with that white-hot gaze. It further drives your need to touch and feel him so you wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely, letting your fingers dance over the muscle in his back.
Mingyu’s eyes flutter closed, only for a moment as your nails trail over his spine, and you smile to yourself, overjoyed with the feeling of his body beneath yours.
“This feels a little surreal,” you speak quietly and he hums in response, setting his eyes back on your face, “I mean…”
“Ahhhhhh,” he grins, lacing his fingers together where his hands rest on your lower back, kept warm under your shirt, “Because you’ve been dreaming about me every night since we met?”
“Something like that,” you sigh and Mingyu shuts up, not expecting you to give in so easily. You pinch the hair at the nape of his neck tugging it nervously, “You should probably kiss me before I say something even more embarrassing.”
Mingyu chuckles and his eyes dip to your mouth. He captures your lips easily, moving his hands against the planes of your back as he kisses you until your mind clouds over.
His hair is soft between your fingers, the silly frosted ends tickling your skin when you give a little experimental tug. Wonwoo teased him endlessly for falling for the fad but you had to admit you liked it on him.
You’d probably like anything on him though. Besides, it wasn’t long before Wonwoo broke down and tried it too albeit a bit more subtle and less Backstreet Boys.
Mingyu braces his forearm behind your hips and tugs. His skin is hot and he keeps you still against him, not like you plan on shifting away, but the need to be touched, held…anchored to him is met without needing to ask. It feeds into your confidence allowing you to move more freely, rolling your hips, arching your back until your chest is pushing into his and he just can’t stand the fabric in the middle.
The shirt he’d given you doesn’t even fully hit the ground before his arms are wrapped around your body again and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips trailing over your throat, shoulders, collar bones. Whatever he can reach without letting go.
A sharp gasp hits the air when his tongue dips to the base of your throat and he closes his lips over that same spot with a kiss. Thighs trembling, you hope he doesn’t comment on the pathetic way your cunt squeezes around nothing. He says nothing though. Instead, he groans deep in his chest and his hands tighten possesively.
Then he does it again, and again. He encourages your real, raw reactions, full intending to pull them from you until you let go of whatever mental block is keeping you from letting him know exactly how much you love the way he makes you feel.
Pretty soon he succeeds and you’re no longer trying to hold yourself together, holding your breath, or trying to be quiet.
Mingyu drags his teeth along your collarbones and grins at the soft hum you let out, so at odds with the way your body jumps at the sharp sensation.
“You like that, huh?”
It take an extra few seconds to process his words, brain near mush from his attention.
“So you do like it,” Mingyu laughs, pecking a small kiss to your shoulder, “What else do you like?”
You’ve only just now formed a response to his first question and now he’s asking another and he’s smirking. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose…
Your mouth pops open to say something, what that might have been, you’ll never know because at the same time, Mingyu leans back a little and drags your hips over his, grinding his erection against your sensitive cunt. “You like that?”
At this point, you give up on words and just nod your head fervently. Yes, I fucking like that.
His hands ghost up your sides until his thumbs are brushing against your breasts. He pauses, testing the water before diving in, and he catches the hitch in your breath. The way your head drops back just a touch like all this is making you a little dizzy. He leans forward and presses a kiss against your sternum before falling back against the pillows to take in the full picture.
You, perched in his lap with your back arched, pushing your aching breasts into his hands to play with. It’s the exact shit he’s fallen victim to in a wet dream but this is real and far better because here you are, in the flesh, gripping onto his wrists and rocking your hips against him for an inkling of relief from how much he’s turned you on.
It’s wearing his patience down and is going to bite him in the ass if he doesn’t move things along. He prematurely finished one time and it still haunted him at night. Never again.
Hopefully.
Mingyu makes a miraculous maneuver, with you landing on your back at his side, somehow, without twisting or pinning someone’s limb in the process.
“That was very smooth.”
You’re staring back up at him in wonder, partly because you’re not used to being tossed around like that, but also because he’s looking down at you with a serious, heated expression and it’s making your heart beat a little too fast.
“Can I touch you?” he askes softly and you’re immediately nodding. “Yeah?” he mimics the motion in a daze, eyes glued to your mouth, “Come here.”
Easy. You kiss him, well, it’s pretty equal efforts but you get to him first, too impatient to wait even half a second more. His hand moves over your hip slowly, then shifts to brush against your naval where he rests it for a moment, heat from his skin seeping into yours.
He’s planning on making good on his request, though you beat him to it again.
Mingyu parts his lips with a sigh when he feels your hand slide over his. Your fingers curl around his palm and you guide his hand lower. He asked to touch you and then made you wait - whether it be on purpose or just his own nerves - you’ll help him help you.
He doesn’t seem to mind and rewards you instantly with his thick fingers rubbing against your cunt through your panties. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan and his brows knit together right as the sound hits his ears. His gaze is unwavering and you almost wish he would just kiss you again instead of studying your face this closely…then his middle finger presses down a little harder and the sound you let out that time makes the corner of his mouth turn up into a half-smirk.
It doesn’t even slip away when he leans down and kisses you, his smirk still obviously tugging at his lips when they touch yours. His hand pushes inside your underwear and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet and warm you are but he doesn’t have time to waste or savor the feeling because he needs you to cum on his fingers at least once before he fucks you and his will to wait it out is all but gone.
You’re responsive to every stroke, gasping and whimpering, digging your nails into his arm. Your back arches up off the bed every time he pumps his fingers faster, rubbing them up against your g-spot with expert ease because, hell yeah he reads cosmo, he’s too fucking good at it to not have been guided by the devine-feminine mind.
Mingyu’s mouth envelopes one of your nipples and his tongue rolls against it at almost the same pace and pattern he’s rubbing your own slick into your clit and that’s enough to send you over the edge. He tries to be patient, to let you come down before he goes reaching for a condom but he catches the time on his digital alarm clock, the numbers glaring at him in bright red.
It was already past midnight meaning having the house to himself is ending relatively soon.
You don’t need the extra recovery time though, in fact, it’s the opposite. What you need is more and you need it now. “Mingyu…” he hums in response and you will your mouth to work again, “Do you even play basketball?”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. Poking your tongue in your cheek you nod and point to his shorts, “...Off.”
Mingyu grins as he leans down and kisses you before rolling out of bed and your lips turn up into a smile, a breathless laugh floating up into the air. He drops his shorts and steps out in white Calvin Kleins stretched taut over his golden thighs, showing off every inch of his assets, and you have to prop yourself up on your elbows to even get the full picture.
Move over Marky Mark.
You’re too busy staring at Mingyu’s body to notice him taking the opportunity to appreciate yours. It’s just a brief moment to sate both your curiosities because though neither of you would prefer to admit it, you’ve thought about each other naked and probably more than once. Getting handsy on your date gave you a bit of an idea but the overwhelmingly obvious dick print staring you in the face at the moment confirms your indecent theory about what Mingyu might be packing…
And that has got to be the ‘Pony’ Ginuwine was singing about.
When your eyes meet somewhere in the middle, you both turn away quickly, embarrassed only slightly for getting caught. It was a good feeling to know that the attraction is mutual. You hear a drawer close softly and feel the dip in the bed when he slides under the covers next to you. Rolling over, you land almost nose to nose and Mingyu grins, “I like it when you check me out.”
You answer him with a kiss that starts out innocently enough but it’s such a dizzying sensation to be so wrapped up in him that whatever witty retort you had been thinking of is lost in the way his fingers squeeze into your side. He sighs against your lips when he drags you closer and your thigh settles high on his hip, wrapping your body around him tightly. Without thought or hesitation, he drives his pelvis forward, rubbing his erection into your sensitive cunt.
It makes you break for air, drawing too much of it into your lungs just to sharply moan through the exhale when he doesn’t stop. The muscles in his arms are so taut beneath your fingers that you know he’s not doing it to tease you - he’s at his breaking point and really just can’t help himself.
One hand slides down and pushes against the waistband of his briefs, rolling the material down as best you can until it catches his attention so his can finish the job himself. He groans, mostly to acknowledge your intentions, but also because he’s slowly trying to reel himself back for a moment. Just long enough to peel the last bits of clothing off you both and get a rubber on. It’s probably one of the most ridiculously inconvenient things he’s been made to do in a long time.
Neither of you say a word as he rips open the foil, trying to keep his hands still enough to roll the condom on correctly. It feels like static in his veins, trying to sit still when everything inside his body is screaming go, go, go! You can feel it too, the buzz of anticipation, the pulse between your thighs.
Then, there is a pause after he rolls back over, covering your bare body with his own, and he just looks at you for a moment, mouth tight. Your hands slide over his arms, up his shoulders, and settle on his face. “Everything ok?”
“Just wanna do this right,” he whispers back, turning his face to kiss the palm of your hand.
The corners of your lips lift in a small smile. “Feels pretty right to me, if that helps.”
The tension in his shoulders melts away and he relaxes his pinched brows. “It does help,” he says, one big hand stroking the outside of your thigh around his waist, “Just…talk to me if there is anything you want or don’t like.”
“I will,” you reassure him and he eyes you wearily one more time until you sigh, “I promise.”
That seems to be enough for him as he shifts between your legs and you let your hands fold over his shoulders, trying hopelessly to relax your body when you feel his fingers on you again. He doesn’t keep them there long, just enough to make sure you’re still wet before he’s gripping his cock, guiding himself into your heat.
The pressure is immense and Mingyu feels you tense up beneath him. He pulls his other arm up and shifts his weight over to one side, grabbing your face with his free hand. “Breathe,” he says quietly, tipping your face up to look at him, “Just breathe, baby.”
Easier said than done but you exhale shakily and his thumb brushes against your cheek. Mingyu draws his hips back slightly and pushes further in, eyes falling to your mouth when it pops open. The feeling of fullness is all encompassing and all you can think about. So full you might burst at the seams but again, you will yourself to relax and he finally, finally bottoms out.
You let out a sharp breath and just can’t seem to catch it.
Mingyu seems unsure of whether he should move or not and he barely gets the question out before you’re nodding. The first few thrusts are still tender and he’s still mindful of that but after a minute or so, the tides turn and you’re digging your heels into his backside, pulling him deeper.
Mentally, emotionally, physically deeper.
He’s a romantic through and through, including in times like this where he’s drunk on pussy and pure infatuation. He can’t get enough. The way you feel around him, clinging to his body, hands against his chest, eyes glued to his. He’s in severely dangerous territory and clamps his lips shut until the words sitting there fizzle out. Patience is what he needs. In his mind and in his heart.
His body is on an entirely different page.
Mingyu is smooth and consistent in his movements, like water in and around you. His name spills from your lips reverently, whispered into the air between you and it feeds him, pushes him to fufill your needs in a way you knew deep down he would. He’s a pleaser in every way.
So, when you slow him down with your palms firmly planted against his chest, he stops and listens. His attentiveness almost makes it harder to speak.
“Can I uh…like would you mind if I…laid on my stomach?” you ask unevenly, not really sure why you’re hesitating to share what you want when that is what he’s asked of you.
Mingyu looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. He doesn’t even answer. Carefully, he pulls out and moves so he can roll you over, prop your hips up, and fill you right back up. This time there is no slow start. His hand settles on your back, just between your shoulder blades, and he holds you there, pinning you in place in such a way that your eyes close on contact. Perfectly content to stay put.
The room is filled with lewd noises. Skin slapping against skin. Deep grunting and moaning sounds mixed together. Your muffled voice chanting his name over and over again. Mingyu’s quiet praises tickling your ears when your head turns fuzzy.
It’s a good thing no one is home because it’s almost embarrassing how loudly passionate you both are. You regret not asking Mingyu to turn on the radio to drown out the noise but it’s too late now and with another tug upwards on your hips, he’s stroking your walls just right and you hit an entirely new set of notes.
Mingyu can feel you squeezing around him, mewling into his pillows and he’s hanging on for dear life because you’re still skirting around the edge and he’s seconds from toppling over. An idea pops into his head, a catch twenty-two really because in doing this, he puts himself at further risk of finishing first but it’s still too enticing to pass up.
Somehow, he manages to roll your bodies together until he hits the mattress, successfully claiming his spot as your big spoon. He hooks his left arm under your head so that it’s rested on his bicep while his hand is free to roam your chest and his right arm snakes over your hip before you feel his middle and ring finger slip between your folds.
With you tightly wound up in his hold he picks up a brutal, finishing pace. He hits all the right spots and works your body until you’re seeing stars. Your breathing now harsh and uneven limits your ability to speak but you don’t need to say anything at all.
Mingyu knows your coming and he’s going right along with you. When your orgasm hits, you bear down against him, crying out in broken sounds as he pumps his hips through his own release. He continues to hold you against his chest, gently kneading at the fleshy part of your hip.
He presses kisses against your hair and then carefully, he pulls out before rolling you onto your back. Mingyu’s smile is adoring and beautiful, it makes you want to bury your face in the pillows again. The blanket will have to do.
“Why are you hiding?” Mingyu chuckles, grabbing at the blanket, “Was it that bad?”
You flip the sheet down and give him a blank stare.
“Shut up,” you bite, a hint of a smile appearing, “You know it was good. Better than good.”
“How good?” he smirks.
With an eye roll, you pull the blanket up just high enough to cover the lower half of your face. “Really fucking good…and you’re not even slightly winded.”
He’s on top of the world.
“My stamina is just another one of my many desirable qualities,” he half-shrugs, “If you’re still not in love with me, I’m happy to keep trying.”
“Will you stop when I do?”
“Not a chance,” he grins, one hand squeezing your thigh as he swoops in to steal another kiss, “Stay with me tonight. I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast”
You pretend to think about it when you know you’ll say yes, and not just because you don’t have a car. A sleepover? With your hot boyfriend? Who just rocked your world and will probably do it again and then cook for you in the morning? Yeah, that’s a no-brainer.
“I could probably be convinced if you find me something comfy to wear and have a spare pack of noodles…I’m starving.”
Mingyu jumps out of bed, the sight of his bare cheeks making you turn and giggle. “I’m about to make you the best noodles of your life,” he walks over to his dresser pulling out underwear for himself, a clean t-shirt, and blue-plaid pajama pants, then he tugs open another drawer and turns to you, holding out a big soft-looking jacket, “I think you’ll like this one. I don’t have any pants that will fit you but this is pretty long. Oooh,” he pauses, “I didn’t think about underwear when I-”
“Ruined mine?” you raise your brow teasingly, sitting up and making grabby hands for the sweater he tosses to you.
He scoffs, tip of his tongue poking at his teeth. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”
Your voice is muffled as you pull the sweater over your head before climbing out of bed, pleased that it indeed covers you well. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ve learned to keep an extra pair in my bag.” You mention this so casually that he’s stunned when you walk over to grab said panties from your bag and kiss his cheek before turning to leave, “I’m gonna go clean up. Meet you in the kitchen for those mind blowing noodles?”
Mingyu hollers back as you near the bathroom door. “I’ll blow your mind in the kitchen alright!”
He slumps against the dresser when he hears you respond with, “I’m sure you will, babe!”
Babe. Ugh, you’re so it for him.
The steam of the shower mixed with some kind of masculine aroma in Mingyu’s body wash gives off the same feeling of being in his arms and the thought warms your belly again. It’s almost embarrassing, how much you want him just after having him in full, but you’re sure he’d be happy to oblige even if you so much as hinted at it.
Maybe he will blow your mind in the kitchen.
As you’re wrapping up and getting dressed you hear music, oddly loud for the hour but it’s vaguely familiar, still muffled by the sound of the vents running to air out the steam in the bathroom. Then there’s a crash, not earth shattering but enough that you’re slightly concerned. You hurry to hang your towel and pull on your clean underwear and his sweater when you hear another bump against the wall. Then…singing?
“Kiss meeee out of the bearded bobby~”
“NIGHTLYYYY beside the greanbeann grass~”
You poke your head into the hallway, “Um…Mingyu?”
“SWIIINGG SWIINNG-”
“Swing the spinnnning stem~”
Definitely not Mingyu. Also, definitely not the right words to this song but your interest is piqued.
You come around the corner to find him in the center of the living room, quietly laughing, holding the hand of one of his very jovial (probably drunk) maybe roommates while the other (definitely drunk) maybe roommate is spinning around them in circles, bumping into things along the way.
The one with bright blonde hair pokes Mingyu mid-spin, “You wear the shoes and I’ll wear a dressss~”
Then the his drinking partner joins in and their both belting out, “oOHHH Kiss meeee, beneath the melting twilight~”
Mingyu points to the blonde and shouts over the noise, “That one’s Hoshi.”
“Lead meeee, out on the moonlit flooOr!”
He gestures at the one hanging off his arm, the tall boy with shaggy black hair, “This one’s Minghao. They’re plastered, obviously.”
They’re delightful and Hoshi is coming your way with a cat-like smile. He bows, almost stumbles, and reaches for your hand which you’re happy to share. “Lift your open hand…” he serenades, lifting yours into the air, “Strike up the band and make firefights dance silver moons sparkly~”
And he spins you away so quickly you almost stumble but Mingyu catches you around the waist with Minghao singing over your shoulder in a whisper, “So, kiss me.”
And Mingyu does, of course, he’s not going to miss the opportunity. Minghao grins, leaning against the wall to catch his balance, and Hoshi claps…a little bit like a buffoon but you really like them both. Mingyu must really love them because he doesn’t complain one bit about the noise and overly dramatic show, especially with it being your first impression. It helps that he knows how laid back you are and can see the delight still dancing in your eyes.
He does however, turn down the music on the stereo so everyone can talk without shouting.
“You do know you guys are supposed to be serving the alcohol…not drinking it…right?”
“Don’t be r- *hiccup* -rude!” Hoshi flaps his hand dismissively, “I’ll tell your pretty girlfriend about all the times we had to hold your hair back, our sweet little Mingoo ~”
Minghao giggles, bumping into Hoshi’s shoulder, “Or about how you,” he pauses, the two of them bursting into hysterics as Mingyu sighs like he knows what’s coming. Minghao wipes away a tear, still cackling, “About how you got totally tanked that weekend you first started working at Wheelie’s and whined alllll nighttttt-”
Hoshi whacks Mingyu’s shoulder laughing and then looks at you, “He wouldn’t shut up about you the entire night. Crying into his beer…because he thought you were dating the DJ.”
Your hand flies over your mouth, giggling up at your boyfriend who is being a really good sport right now. Even as he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head at his friends.
“Vernon and I were never dating,” you fake sniffle, “Sadly.”
“Sadly?!” Mingyu swings his head around toward you, “I thought the soulmate thing was a joke?” he laughs.
“Oh, baby, it is a joke,” you reassure him, patting his chest gently but just when he relaxes you whisper, “Until it isn’t.”
Hoshi sticks out his hand as he’s stumbling toward the kitchen and you land a low-five as he goes, and one up top when Minghao follows behind him excitedly mumbling about making drinks for everyone, then Hoshi is shouting about noodles ‘for the love of god, we need more noodles!’
Mingyu sighs and you know he’s about to complain that he no longer has you to himself. Can practically hear it in your head already. So, you cut him off before he can start, tugging him down into a kiss hot enough to make him groan against your lips as his hands dip down to take handfuls of you.
Then he’s laughing, falling out of rythym and you pull back, smiling. “What?”
You squawk in surprise when he smacks your ass and says, “You know you’re still not wearing pants, right?”
Actually, you forgot because of the whole song and dance thing.
“That’s embarrassing,” you mumble, tugging his sweater further down your thighs, “I could go throw my work pants-”
“I can try to find you som-”
You both look toward the kitchen when music starts playing and Mingyu shakes his head, almost regretting stowing his portable radio in there for when he’s cooking. It’s quiet for a few seconds and then, like someone cranked the volume all the way up, it’s starts blasting and they’re both singing.
“Ooooh baby, baybay, b-baby, baybaby, oooh baby-”
Mingyu just laughs. “On second thought, don’t even worry about it. They aren’t going to remember anything tomorrow morning anyway.”
“I like them,” you grin.
His shoulder shake with mirth, “Of course you do.”
You giggle when one of the guys starts shouting the words and grab Mingyu’s hand, pulling him along behind you. “Come on, noodles, drinks, Salt-n-Pepa,” he fake groans and you squeeze his hand, “This is the most fun I’ve had at a sleepover in years.”
Then he’s grinning, “Well, we can make it a regular thing if you want.”
You turn, just before you get to the kitchen and push up to kiss his cheek, “Whatever you say, Hot Wheels.”
“Oh, come on,” he drags his feet after you, “Can we pick a new nickname?!”
“Sure. Come on, Coach Kim. Let’s go play in the kitchen.”
He stumbles a step and shakes his head. “Am I supposed to pretend it doesn’t make me kind of horny when you call me that? God, please don’t hold that against me. I am only a man.”
Oh? Good to know. “Whatever you say, Coach.”
Thanks for reading! 💖
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→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfgyuu, 2019. ©️
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Center of Attention
Dark! Geto Suguru x reader x Dark! Gojo Satoru
5.6k wc
Synopsis: Your boyfriend cheats on you with his best friend
(Warnings: rape/noncon, cheating, infidelity, forced relationships, piv sex, oral sex, afab reader)
In the beginning, things with Suguru were great.
He was nice, considerate, sweet. Down to earth, honest. You'd only been official for a few months, but it felt real. Like it could last forever.
And then, he introduced you to Satoru.
It started from there. You hated everything about that man. He came from money and drove in loud, fancy cars. He was vapid and insulting. The way he behaved with you was just as disgusting. Calling you pet names like 'princess' and 'baby'. Touching your waist, your arm, your ass. Suguru once said they shared everything together. You were starting to wonder if Satoru thought you were on the table as well.
It started a lot of arguments between you and Suguru. He'd always defend his childhood friend, barely even listening to your protests. It's just his nature, he doesn't do it on purpose, he does it with everyone. With how defensive he was about his best friend, you should have known. You should have seen the signs.
Maybe then you would have been less surprised when you walked in on the two making out.
You'd left Suguru's house after the last fight you had with him, once again about Satoru. You were halfway home when something like guilt spread across your body. Doubt. Maybe you were being too harsh on them. They were childhood friends. They'd always have a connection you just wouldn't be able to understand.
You had come back with a bag of take out-an apology- on your wrists. You didn't think anything of it when the front door was unlocked, Suguru's clothes on the ground.
They were on the couch, half-naked. Satoru was pressing his precious best friend further into the cushion. Suguru's hand was in his white hair, aggressively pulling. You could feel your heart breaking with every second. Every breath you took.
"Suguru...?" They froze.
It was your fault. You should have been faster.
The food you'd brought drops to the floor as you turn, ready to bolt out the door, run to your car, drive far far away and just forget this shitty night. Satoru is faster. His slender hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back.
"Wait. Just wait," he begs, his voice uncharacteristically desperate. Given any other situation, you would have laughed, but the tears were already streaming down your face. You can only stare at the empty couch, where those two had just been. Where you can see your cotton pink panties.
God, this is all one sick joke, isn't it?
Suguru calls your name, but you don't bother to look. Satoru's grip is strong, and you're forced to wither just a foot away from the two of them. You feel everything. Humiliation. Heartbreak. Anger.
You slap away the hand that tries to cup your cheek. It's all it takes to snap you back.
"Don't touch me." Through your tears, you try to wrestle your way out of Satoru's grip.
"Let me go," you demand, your throat threatening to close, "Satoru let-let me fucking go—"
"Not until you let us explain," Suguru begs. By now, Satoru had cornered you against the wall, and you feel yourself crying even harder because you don't want an explanation, you know what you fucking saw.
"Jesus Christ-what could you possibly say that can-that can explain anything!" Your voice is too shrill, too high, too emotional, you need to bring yourself down but you just can't. It's so much. You need to leave.
"Satoru and I love each other."
Your voice halts in your chest as you look up. Suguru's eyes are somber as he gazes at you. You want to stop yourself from examining him. The unruffled clothes, the dark hickeys on his neck. For some reason, the evidence breaks you more than the action.
"We always have," he continues like he's talking about the weather. He was always the logical one, "Ever since we were teenagers."
"Great," you respond, voice too damp to signify any real sarcasm, "how touching. Then just—"
"—But it wasn't enough," Satoru rushes in, quick to cut you off. "We—we weren't complete. Like we would never have the right time....and then we met you."
You don't like adoration in his eyes, like he wasn't just about to fuck your now ex-boyfriend. Disgust fills your stomach as you continue to glare at him. You hate him. You hate them both.
"The first time Suguru brought you home, I knew you were the one for us," Satoru says. "You-you're our missing puzzle piece—what we've been looking for our entire life." He's good with words. He's a little like Suguru, in that sense. Maybe they do deserve each other.
You can only stare at him, and then your eyes shift to Suguru. He has the same expression, though a little less obvious. Despite how much your heart hurts, a disbelieved laugh chokes out of your throat.
"...that's your excuse?" you whisper, "you wanted a fucking threesome?"
"It's not an excuse." Suguru steps forward, now they both are fully trapping you. His voice is soaking with emotion, almost like he was about to start crying.
"It's the truth. I love you. We love you, and we want you to be with us."
You couldn't believe them. You couldn't fucking believe them. It was all too much. The argument, the kiss. This, them cornering you and claiming that they love you. It was the first time Suguru had told you that he loved you. You thought you would have been happy to hear those words come from his mouth, given enough time together.
Now, it just feels like another nail in the coffin.
You look down, looking at the spilled food. You'd brought curry. It was currently all over the bare floor, leaking into cracks. Good. You hoped when you left and cried your heart out, Suguru would be here, cleaning up your mess. You wouldn't be able to hurt him as badly as he did you, but at least you'd be able to make him miserable.
"I want to go home," you finally say. You pull at Satoru's hand. He doesn't budge. "I want to leave. Let me leave."
He doesn't reply. His grip gets tighter, almost crushing. You stumble when he pulls you forward, nearly crashing into his chest. When you look up, he looks....wrong. Off, in some way.
"You can't." His sunglasses are off. You can see his eyes. They're too wide, too manic. It scares you. "We—we just told you that we loved you. I love you. You—you can't just leave me—"
“Let go, Satoru.”
Satoru stops rambling, looking over at the other man. Suguru steps even closer. His hand reaches up, touching your hair. You don’t slap him away again, but you flinch. His frown deepens. You hate the look of hurt in his eyes, like he’s the victim here, like he spent months with someone who was just stringing them along.
“You need time,” Suguru says, more to himself than you, “we get that. We’ll give you time. And then, you can come back to us.” You should snap at the blistering hope in his voice, but you don't. You grit your teeth, holding everything in until you're finally away from them.
He steps back. Satoru doesn’t. His teeth mash together, jaw clenching like he wants to argue. Fight.
Suguru’s eyes darken. “Let go, Satoru.”
Slowly, you can feel his grip on your wrist loosen. You react, stumbling back, hands desperately gripping on the door. You can feel their eyes on you the entire time.
You can give yourself credit, however. You don’t break into sobs until you get into your car.
Two months later, and you still refuse to see them.
It's not like they haven't tried to get in touch, much to your disdain. They called and texted and spammed until you blocked them. Then, you blocked them on social media. At work, you ask the secretary to start dumping the bouquets instead of sending them up to you. And you have to tell your mutual friends to stop trying to act like the middle-man.
You can't do anything about the letters or the gifts left at your door every other day. Ignoring the full mailbox becomes customary, and you start passing off the chocolates to your neighbors and friends.
"Can't you get them to stop?" You ask Shoko as she rummages through another gift basket they had sent, "seriously, I'm close to snapping here."
"Oh, this looks expensive." She eyes the wine bottle. When you give her a look, she sighs.
"You know I can't do that. Whenever they get obsessed, they don't take no for an answer. Maybe that's why they have such a great relationship." You wilt at that.
"Did you know?"
Her fingers twitch in a way that makes you know she's craving a cigarette.
"I mean, I knew they had a thing for each other back in high school, but I thought it faded." You sink your face further into your hands. "Trust me, I wasn't in on whatever bullshit they did to you."
Her fingers reach over to squeeze your thigh, a way of apologizing. You give her a timid smile, before ultimately sighing again. Her hands move to your back. You feel the urge to cry in her chest again, but you've been doing that for days now.
"Just keep doing what you're doing. Ignore them, and hopefully, those assholes will focus on something else." Shoko suggests. She shifts closer. You can smell her perfume.
You nod. "Yeah, hopefully."
Eventually, the gifts start to dwindle. The flowers stop coming, the gift baskets get more and more sporadic. Two months later, everything stops, and you're nearly crying in relief. By now, you're mostly over whatever you had with Suguru. You two hadn't been together for very long. Now that you think about it, the whole situation was more embarrassing than anything else. And the fact they both had the audacity to lovebomb you too? Humiliating. All you want to do is never see him again. Him or Satoru. In your eyes, they can both just fall off the face of the Earth and you'd be all the more happier for it.
The date was nice. Cute, was the word you'd use. A nice dinner and peaceful conversation. And he wasn't that bad to look at. A nice smile. Dimples, you noted when he laughed at something you'd said.
"I'd like to see you again." He said, right before you let yourself out of the car.
You glanced back at him. And you stay there when he leans closer. The kiss was nice, too.
You're giddy the entire short walk to your apartment. It fades just when you reach the door.
Their arms are crossed, and it strangely feels like you're coming home to two disapproving parents. Satoru is leaning against a wall, sunglasses tucked underneath his collar. Suguru holds something in his hands—another bouquet.
Your excitement fades, but secretly, you're relieved. You don't feel the remnants of your heart shattering the more you look at them. You feel....nothing.
Nothing but the slight irritation that they were blocking your door.
"Welcome back." Suguru starts, but Satoru is much less tactful.
"Who was that?" He demands, but the car has already left. Thank god you would want to bring a man you'd barely met into your drama.
None of your business, you want to snap, but it's too late for either of their bullshit.
"No one," you say and their glowers only grow that more intense.
"Can this wait until tomorrow?" you finally ask, "I'm exhausted." Satoru seems to get even more pissed at your comment, but Suguru steps in.
"You haven't been answering my calls," Suguru starts, "and you haven't accepted any of our gifts. We're just worried about you."
That's rich, coming from him. You can't help but let your irritation control you, at least for a little while. Just because you were over him, doesn't mean you were fine with what he did.
"Sorry, but you lost the privilege to 'worry about me' when you started sucking your boyfriend's dick," you mention to Satoru, who stiffens, "Speaking off, was he the mistress here, or was I? How long had you two been doing it behind my back, anyway? Or is it technically not considered cheating because you said 'no homo' before making out."
"I'm sorry," Suguru says, and to his credit, he sounds remorseful, "there's not a single day that goes by where I'm not regretful at how you found out."
"Oh my God, absolutely not. You don't get to apologize to me to clear your conscience." You're hissing. "What? Do you expect me to give you and Satoru my blessings or something? Fuck off before I start throwing my shoes at you."
"Would that make you feel better?" Satoru cuts in. "You can hurt us if you want to, baby. What—what do you want us to do?" He steps forward. You step back. "We can get on our knees, and you can punch us. Hit us. Wanna smash beer bottles on our faces? Anything, baby. We want you to forgive us."
His sincerity takes you off guard. His eyes were wide. He was serious about what he just said. For a moment, you felt bad for Suguru. He was stuck with that. And then you processed Satoru's words.
"Forgiveness?" You spit out. "You have to be fucking with me because there's no way in hell I'd ever forgive you. Do you know the worst part about this entire shitshow, Suguru? It wasn't the fact that you broke my heart, it was that everyone except me knew that my boyfriend was sucking his best friend's dick. Do you know how humiliating that was? Of course you didn't because you two were so busy thinking about each other that you didn't even think how it would affect me."
By the time you were done, you were panting. You bit your lip, forcing the hint of tears back because if you broke, it would negate everything you had just said. Despite the tremor in your voice, it felt good to yell at them finally. The look on their faces made the cake that much sweeter.
"Now, fuck off," your voice was quieter, almost hoarse, "leave me alone."
They don't stop you when you reach your door. You can barely stop your hands from shaking, and you know you won't be able to hold yourself together for much longer. The door unlocks with a click.
And then you're stumbling through your home with an added weight on your back.
You almost fall into the carpet, quick to balance yourself and whirl around. They're already inside. Suguru is shaking his head while Satoru fiddles with the door.
"Satoru—" Suguru starts.
"Enough." He hisses. "We've tried doing it your way, and look where it got us. My way, now." The lock clicks into place.
Suguru looks like he wants to disagree, but he holds himself back. He frowns, glancing over to you.
"You're right," he says, "maybe actions are better than words."
Something like fear pushes its way into your throat, but you're waving it away. You immediately reject the sudden increased thumping in your heart. This is Satoru and Suguru. Assholes. They are selfish bastards who care about nothing but themselves. But they wouldn't hurt you. They wouldn't do that to you.
Right?
You're certain of it. You know it, yet your voice falters the first time you try to speak up.
"...What are you doing?"
You can't keep the anger. It's gone, as much as you try to pull it back inside your chest, keeping it there. Instead of hot, you just feel cold.
You don't like the way they're slowly inching towards you, like you're a scared feral animal—like they're hunters itching for a taste.
Despite your clear discomfort, Satoru still has the audacity to smile. Not his usual grin, filled with unabashed confidence, this one is warmer. Nicer.
You think it makes what he's doing worse.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he sounds like he's begging, voice low, simpering, "I never wanted to hurt you. I promise."
"What are you doing?" You demand again, but your voice wavers even more.
"I get it. I get why you're so upset with us. You just felt left out, right?" Satoru's saying, and you should be getting angry at his words, but the way he isn't stopping is getting more and more concerning and something is wrong, they aren't leaving, why aren't they leaving?
"Just let us show you how sorry we are, how much we care," Suguru says, "Everything. All for you. I promise."
"Get out," you're whispering, and it hope it has more bite than you can possibly give, "just get out. Leave me alone—"
Satoru grabs you. You manage to scream before his lips crush into yours. The kiss isn't anything the way Suguru used to kiss you. Gentle, soft, giving, never taking. Satoru was all strength. The strongest. He pulled, and nipped, and bit until it wasn't even a kiss. It was just you being devoured by him.
You push away (he lets you), but before you can suck in a breath, Suguru's there, grabbing the back of your neck. The kiss is less painful, but just as searing. Especially considering you've kissed him before, back when things were innocent, much less twisted.
"See, Suguru?" Satoru whispers when the dark-haired man pulls away. "So much quieter, now. You just wanted all our attention, right baby?"
You can't speak, not when you can barely breathe. You're pushing again, struggling to get out of their hold, but you are nothing against Satoru. You are nothing against Suguru.
What are you when it's both of them at once?
You mumble about a quiet 'get the fuck out'. It's too shaky to be anything intimidating. They both have the audacity to laugh in a way that makes you feel like a tiny kitten clawing at their owner's hands, desperate not to sink into the warm, soapy water.
It's easy to manhandle you onto the couch, Suguru keeping you nice and pliant as Satoru fiddles with your pants. Suguru hushes you, like you were just playing around. Playing hard to get. Like the sobs and the tears and the tearful begs aren't enough to prove anything coherent.
"Stop," you say anyway because there's a chance, there's always a chance, "Suguru—Satoru stop. What—what are you doing? Please just—"
Suguru bites your neck, making you yelp. He apologizes with a warm tongue, ignoring you and glaring down at his companion.
"Hurry up." It sounds impatient. "You wanted a taste, right?"
Satoru clicks his tongue and they're both ignoring you, as if your opinion, your struggles, your screams is just background noise, nothing truly important. Your pants are already down at your legs, preventing you from kicking. Satoru's large hands squeeze at the fat of your thighs, and you jump as his cold hands brush over your sensitive skin.
Your voice is muffled by Suguru's lips once again. The man moans into your mouth, loud and lewd.
"I'm savoring this," Satoru says while you're distracted.
He pushes two fingers into your clothed cunt, shuddering at the touch. "You touched this pussy all the time. Can't say the same. Cut me some slack, man."
Suguru reluctantly pulls away, leaving you panted and slightly breathless. He says something to Satoru, chiding. Satoru bickers back. You can only come back when you dazedly look down just in time to see Satoru push your panties to the side and attach his mouth to your pussy.
You're not wet. How could you be? Satoru remedies that, eagerly licking until your hole is covered by his saliva. Your recent inactivity doesn't help either. You hadn't done anything, not since Suguru. Your body is starved for attention, something Satoru is readily giving. You become wet and needy in no time.
Not one to be ignored, Suguru pulls your shirt over your head, abandoning it somewhere behind the couch. Your arms are useless, barely catching onto his wrist before he's forcing you away. Suguru's head dips down, running his tongue over the skin at your breasts, eager for a taste. He bites at one of your nipples, groaning when your hands reach up to wildly tug at his hair. Your actions seem only to excite him further as he squeezes your other breast, digging his fingers into your soft flesh.
On the floor, Satoru is having more than enough of his fill. You aren't prepared to feel the long finger prodding your hole before easing its way inside your tight pussy. You give a faltering whimper, arching your back. Suguru pulls away from your chest with a pop.
You're sobbing now. It doesn't prove anything, considering each sob is interrupted by a reluctant moan. Suguru leans up to kiss you. You squeeze your eyes, turning away. His lips brush your cheek. He chuckles at your act of defiance.
"So cute," he says against your skin. Butterfly kisses across your cheek, your neck. "I missed this. I missed you."
The words hurt, cut into your skin, enough to make you bleed. You cry harder. They are kind enough to let you.
"Did you miss me too?" Suguru asks. When you give no answer, he laughs affectionately.
He's unbuckling his belt as he traces more kisses across your skin. Suguru pushes away the hem of his pants, untucking his cock. You can feel its length press against your side.
Below you, Satoru grabs you by the hips, adjusting you further down the couch until the new angle makes his fingers hit something deep inside of you. You gasp, eyes flying open.
"Look at him," Suguru says, taking your chin, pointing your gaze down, "Isn't he so pretty?"
Blue eyes stare back up at you, clouded with lust and need. You can't help but stare back through your tears. You've never noticed how beautiful Satoru's eyes were. They were always covered, obscured by his glasses. They're so pretty. Like oceans, merged with a starry sky. They're so beautiful. He's so beautiful. How could someone so beautiful do this to you?
"He wanted to do this for so long," Suguru murmurs into your ear, "would not shut up about eating you out, making you cum down his throat. Sit on his face until he passes out."
Satoru says something, it sounds irritated, muffled by the slick sounds of your pussy. In response, Suguru grabs the back of his head, shoving him deeper between your thighs, keeping him there. You jolt at the sudden intimacy, another whine melting out your throat. Satoru seems to forget whatever he was saying, going back to worshipping your battered pussy.
"If we're lucky, he'll suffocate down there," Suguru says with no real heat in his voice, "though I think he might like that idea."
His voice is heavy, like he'd been running. Suguru grabs your hand, enveloping it in his own. The same hand that was touching his throbbing cock. When you try to jolt away, he doesn't let you, trapping your fingers underneath his own.
"C'mon baby." He says through gritted teeth. You squeeze your eyes again, turning away into your shoulder. Suguru doesn't let you run away, not this time. He's quick to make himself known, scrapping his teeth against your neck. He moves yours and his hands up and down his leaking cock.
"There we go." He sounds relieved. "That's it. So so good for me."
You let him. You let them. You lie there like a doll, letting them maneuver you as they wish. Satoru's the loudest, moaning against your pussy, sucking on your clit. Suguru is more refined, shuddering into the crook of your neck as he forces you to grip his cock tighter and tighter.
"Stop." It's nothing more than a pleading whimper. "Please please stop."
Suguru kisses you again, sloppy and messy, just as Satoru sucks on your clit, hard enough to make you see white. You come right on his tongue and fingers, riding out your high. Against your will, your back arches, rising off the couch with a high-pitched keen. Your thighs squeeze around his head, threatening to crush his skull. He's more than happy to let you.
Suguru follows right after, you can feel his cum coat your hand. Sticky, making you feel even more disgusted with yourself than you already were.
You slump into the couch just as Satoru pulls away. Suguru tucks you into your chest, but you don't care enough to struggle. You can only watch as Satoru rises from his place on the floor, locking eyes with Suguru.
"So?" Suguru asks, still panting, but there's a smile in his voice, "How was it?"
There's something carnivorous in Satoru's eyes before he lunges. He aggressively kisses Suguru, and the latter returns the affection just as potently. Numbly, you realize that they were softer kissing you. They were holding back. Now, they go together like wild dogs, teeth clashing together. When they part, Satoru's lips are bleeding.
Satoru turns his gaze on you. You avert your eyes, not wanting to bait the unpredictable animal. Luckily, his earlier inhibitions had been sated by the kiss. He falls on top of you two, burying his head into the crook of your neck, where Suguru has turned your skin into a patchwork of hickeys.
"Fuck baby," he sighs into your skin, "you're an addiction, y'know that?"
You focus on breathing. In and out, filling your lungs with much-needed oxygen. It works to keep you from processing the absolute awe in Satoru's voice. The sincerity. The adoration. So so much worse had he just been mocking. The way he usually was.
But it was over now. It can't be anything more. You'd go insane if it were anything more--
"Now, I don't think it's fair anymore," Suguru's sighing into your ear, "you had a taste, right? Let me have a turn now."
He's about to stand, but Satoru's placing a large hand on his chest, forcing him back on the couch.
"Sit the fuck down." He spits out in irritation. "You're so greedy, y'know that? I'm fucking this pussy first, just like we agreed on."
You can feel your breath hitch at that. The way they just stripped you down of your humanity. Like you were a toy, two toddlers were fighting over. It was horrifying. You can feel nausea build up in your throat.
Suguru notices your distress first. He sighs, nuzzling his face into your cheek.
"Okay okay, I yield," he relents, "don't start throwing a tantrum just because you don't get your way. Today is supposed to be about someone else, remember?"
Satoru huffs, but he calms down significantly. He pulls away, you can feel his hands trail again your chest, like he's eager to put his mouth on something else, before he's stopping himself.
By now, your fight has been sucessfully withered out by these two men. As though you ever had a chance, even in the beginning. Even if Suguru's threatening grip hadn't been present, even if the crazed look in Satoru's eyes wouldn't have manifested through his touch, this result would have always happened.
Even then, you still squeeze your eyes shut when you hear the clanking of his belt. Your eyes sting again, and you tuck your face into the comfort of the fluffy cushions.
Your thighs are clamped shut. Satoru easily plies them apart, sliding his way between your legs. Something hot and blunt lightly brushes against your entrance before he eases his cock into your pussy with one smooth motion.
Despite the previous orgasm, it's not enough to obscure the pain. He's too long, and you're certain you could feel him right to your stomach. He curses a stuttered moan.
It's useless, but you're reaching up anyway. Nails close to his face. Maybe your true goal is for his two beautiful eyes, ripping them apart, eager to see blue turn into red.
You don't get the chance to find out for yourself. Suguru's stopping you, restricting your body with his own. There's a punishing bite right on your neck. You yelp. Suguru grins through the blood.
"Be good." He chastises. "Behave. We aren't hurting you, right? We're making you feel good."
He's wrong. They have hurt you. They are hurting you. You feel it in your neck, the aching bruises, your battered cunt. It's everywhere.
It hurts even more when Satoru doesn't even give you time to adjust. He's blabbering something; you can't hear through the blood between your ears as he collapses into your chest. The position is awkward, considering Suguru is still sucking on your neck, but never mind. They don't care if they suffocate you.
The rhythm is rough and deep. He pushes his cock as deep as it can go inside of you, stretching your walls before he pulls back, only to restart the terrible cycle all over again. It's horrible. Excruciating, despite how slick your pussy is. Despite it all, you can't help but compare how differently Suguru and Satoru fucked you.
Suguru's cock was thicker but wasn't as long. He was nicer, slow, only going when he knew you could take it. But back then, you didn't know Suguru's true intentions. You weren't aware of his sadism, the eagerness to rip you apart. Perhaps he was even worse than Satoru was.
"Doesn't this feel good?" Suguru asks suddenly. His soft lips brush your cheek when you bury your face deeper into your couch. At least this time, he wasn't forcing you to face your unwanted assault head-on. You suppose you should feel grateful.
But he's right. You hate that he's right. You get used to Satoru's rhythm eventually. When his cock brushes against something deep inside of you, you jolt around his dick, unable to stop yourself from squeezing your walls. Satoru hisses at that, but he barely falters.
"Fuck fuck fuck," he's hissing, "squeezin' me so tight, gorgeous."
He gropes at your tits, trying to give himself a reprieve from the sensation. You mirror him, squeezing your hands into fists, nails threatening to break skin. As if to comfort you, Suguru murmurs sweet nothings into your ear.
Satoru's rhythm starts to falter. His breath hitches, indicating what's to come. His hands squeeze. His pace gets even rougher. Suguru frowns when you give a wilted moan, more pained than anything.
"Satoru," he says, almost lecturing, "be nicer."
When Satoru doesn't respond, Suguru is quick to retaliate. You flinch when he grabs Satoru's hair, yanking him away from your chest. Satoru whimpers.
"'Can't help it—fuck, so fucking good." His voice is high and needy, juxtapositioning the crude way he's fucking himself into you, the way he's hiking a leg over his hip, driving himself even deeper inside your cunt. He starts drawing quick messy circles around your swollen clit.
The angle proves to be enough to push you over the edge. You seize around his cock, spamming around him. Despite the harsh grip Suguru has on him, Satoru is quick to follow. He grits his teeth before something hot and horrible fills you.
You stay like that, heaving in deep breaths. Satoru's breathing is labored too. He laughs, it sounds exhausted. You're helpless to do anything but comply when he grabs your chin to kiss you. It's messy, but not as rough as it was earlier. You're too exhausted to hate it.
His cock slips out of you. His cum slips out, too, running down your thighs. You should be worried about it staining the carpet, but you're too out of it to think of anything. Suguru brushes Satoru's hair, looking satisfied. When Satoru has his fill of your lips, he pulls away. You catch his eyes. There's no unsatiable lust within them. Just warmth, as well as another emotion that makes you want to hurl.
But it's over. It's finally over. It's the only part that keeps you from breaking apart. They'll leave. Leave you to cry in a corner while you pick up the pieces that were once you.
Satoru tucks himself back in his pants. Suguru exhales in contentedness before he, too, rises from the couch. You wait for them to leave.
They don't leave.
With horrible gentleness, Suguru picks you up, corralling you into his chest. You whine when he moves your body, but you don't do much else. You can't.
They share a laugh at your expense before he's carrying your broken, naked body up to the bedroom. It parallels the times when you were too tired to walk to the bedroom yourself. When Suguru was just a man you thought you could love. When you felt safe in his arms.
Now you feel nothing but cold, despite how warm his hands are.
He deposits you in the bed. Satoru comes up behind him, pulling an oversized shirt over your head. Their hands are uninterested in your body, working in tandem.
The don't leave.
You feel dirty and sticky. You're aching all over. You want to do nothing more but curl up in the hot shower and cry. They prevent that luxury from you too. The bed isn't big enough for all three of you, but they manage regardless. Satoru curls around you, sliding a hand across your back, bringing your face into your chest. You can feel Suguru settle in behind you, draping his hand across your waist.
Someone kisses your temple. Someone yawns.
They don't leave.
You don't want to sleep. You feel like if you do you might not ever wake up from this nightmare. But your eyes are getting heavy, and for even a couple hours, you want to escape from thinking and hurting.
"Isn't this nice?" Suguru says from behind, burying his face into your hair, he inhales deeply.
"It'll always be like this from now on." He sounded relieved. Satoru hums in agreement.
"All for you, baby," Satoru promises again, curling his hands tighter, "We're all for you."
Your heart drops to your stomach.
That's what you were afraid of.
#yandere#yandere jjk#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#yandere gojo satoru#non con touching#dark content#yandere satosugu#yandere geto suguru#dark geto suguru#tw: noncon#dark satosugu
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-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-
♡ WARNINGS: reader has a pussy and tits, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, demeaning pet names (doll, sweetheart, bitch), outdoor sex, forced proximity, toji is insufferably hot, kinda dub-con
♡ WORD COUNT: 3.5k
♡ NOTE: was so hoping I would get this one done and I did, so ha! For anyone who has been brought here by this piece, please know I do not regularly post JJK, so sorry! Enjoy reading~
This cabin is a joke. Unliveable. He shouldn’t be in a shithole like this. Toji comes from money. He’s used to living in luxury–penthouses with big screens and full bars, king-sized beds with sheets made from Egyptian cotton.
So the goddamn cot in this fucking Lincoln Logs-ass shack is frankly insulting, and if he wasn’t in hiding, he would march right into his pretentious boss’ office and give him a piece of his mind and maybe the barrel of his gun.
The only good thing about Toji’s current predicament is that he’s not alone. You are also with him, two assassins laying low in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Of course, he may as well be all by himself; it’s not as if you’re actually paying him any attention.
You’re pissed at him, acting like a little bitch because he may have almost botched a job the two of you were on. So what? The guy is still dead. Riddled with a few too many bullets, sure, but that’s neither here nor there.
At least Toji still gets to ogle you, watch you shuffle around the cabin in leggings and loose sweatshirts. No bra, either. Yeah, he’s seen the way your nipples peek out from under the material. Fucking tease. Just as tempting as the way spandex hugs your ass and, in some cases when Toji is lucky, perfectly outlines what he knows must be the prettiest little pussy.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you bite out, glaring at him from over your mug of steaming tea.
Toji smirks, spread out on the threadbare couch while you stand in the shitty kitchen about six feet away from him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, doll.”
“Oh, fuck you. You’ve been watching me like I’m your next target. I’m getting tired of it.”
“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” he sneers. “There’s nothing better to do in this pile of shit. May as well enjoy the view.”
You set your cup down too forcefully, liquid sloshing out from the side, then stomp over to him, leaning into his space in an oh-so tantalizing way. You’re putting yourself in a real precarious position, he thinks, smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you fume.
“You even think about putting your hands on me, and I swear I’ll turn you into a fucking Ken doll.”
Toji grins sideways. “That mean you’ll touch it?”
The force of your slap is a little jarring, he has to admit, but not at all surprising. You’ve been riled up since the two of you arrived days ago, and Toji is not doing anything to help you relax on your little getaway. The complete opposite, actually. Truthfully, he’s a little impressed that it’s taken you this long to hit him.
But, you made the first move (he loves that in a woman), so he has no choice but to retaliate, swiftly pulling you into his lap, unashamed of his now half-hard dick.
“Jesus Christ, you’re sick,” you yell, struggling in his grip, rubbing your plump little ass all over his cock. “Let go of me!”
“Keep squirmin’ like that, and I’m gonna make a mess in my pants, babygirl.”
Unlikely–he’s not some teenager who’ll cum at a little grinding–but the way your face morphs with disgust is too good. “Would you clean it up for me if I asked nicely?” he teases further, grunts when your heel comes down hard against his shin.
His grip loosens enough for you to escape his hold, and Toji mumbles a dejected, “tease,” as you shoot to the other side of the very small room.
“I will kill you right fucking here if you ever do that again,” you grit through your teeth, hands shaking where they’re balled into fists.
Toji shrugs, annoyed, unsatisfied, and throbbing in the confines of his sweats. “Try it. I’ll have you pinned faster than you can even reach your gun.”
You huff, knowing damn well he’s right. You’re good at killing; he won’t deny that.
He’s just better.
~
Toji starts playing with you more after that, seeing how many of your buttons he can press without actually facing your promised wrath.
It’s the way he stares at you, casually brushing up against you in seemingly innocent ways. He walks around shirtless, making it impossible for you to not look at him.
Really, he just takes up as much room as he possibly can, ensures that you don’t get a moment’s peace. It’s obviously affecting you. He watches you get more and more restless as the days go by. You’re both bored out of your minds with only a few channels on the fucking box television to keep you entertained.
There is literally nothing to do but sleep and fuck. Toji’s been doing a lot of both (though, he wishes it was your pussy he was fucking and not his fist in the shower).
You, however, choose walking over sex, going on long strolls around the perimeter. You say that you’re being vigilant, but Toji knows you’re just trying to get away from him.
“You know, if you’d let me, I could help you relax,” he offers one day, trying to tune out the sound of your never ending footsteps as you pace back and forth. “Seriously, you’ve gotta simmer down.”
“You realize there are several bounties out on both of us right now, right? Like, does that not bother you?”
“Not really,” he replies. “People have been wanting to kill me since I was born. This ain’t nothin’ new.”
You stop pacing and look at him, eyebrows pinched in adorable confusion. “That’s… actually kinda sad.”
“Right?” Toji agrees, pouting dramatically as he tries, “wanna help me feel better about my sad, sordid life?”
He laughs when you groan, scrubbing your hands down your face. “You just won’t fucking quit, will you?”
“Not until I get to feel your pussy squeezin—”
You cut him off, “just stop!” voice all pitchy and grating. However, the next thing out of your mouth is like music to Toji’s ears: “if I let you fuck me, will you get off my back about it?”
He lifts an eyebrow, ignoring the way his cock twitches, then lies through his teeth, “absolutely,” because he already knows that once he’s had you, he’s gonna want you over and over and over again.
Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms over your chest and grumble, “fine,” as your mouth twists downward. “But later. For now I need to be… not around you.”
“Whatever you gotta do to get ready, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”
Except Toji doesn’t stay still for long. He waits for just a few minutes, long enough for you to let your guard down. Long enough for you to get a head start. And then takes off in the same general direction that you did.
You’re nowhere in his line of sight, but you’re easy to follow especially since you don’t actually know you’re being tracked. Your boots leave trails in the brown, fallen leaves, steps echoing off every branch that surrounds you.
A chilly breeze whistles through the trees, but Toji is too hot to really feel it. You may be covered up head to toe in a flannel and tights, but you won’t be for long. Soon, he’ll strip you down, and by that time, you’ll be thankful for the wind.
You move slowly, absentmindedly, look lighter now that you think you’re alone. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and your fingers move as if you’re rehearsing a song. Different from the high-strung little bitch he’s had to live with for the past week.
Too busy watching you, Toji isn't focused on the ground beneath his feet. The sound of a twig snapping may as well be a gunshot, and you drop into a crouch immediately, neck practically snapping as you twist to find the source: him.
You lock eyes with each other, and something must flash in his, something dangerous—something hungry. He stays still, watching you watch him. Assessing. Registering him as the threat that he is.
“You gonna run from me?” he taunts, and you answer by doing exactly that, taking off at a sprint.
It makes Toji’s blood race in a way he’s only experienced when holding a weapon, when spattered with blood. It’s the rush he feels when he’s holding someone’s life in the palm of his hand.
He hurries after you, not quite at his full speed—that would end this too quickly—but fast enough to keep his heart pumping, quick and heavy where it rattles in his ribcage.
You veer left and he follows, giving you enough space to make you feel like you just might outpace him, that maybe you’ll get somewhere safe.
Boots slipping on the foliage underfoot, you careen forward only to catch yourself on your hands and push forward like a track star. Toji is locked on to your every movement now, the pump of your legs and arms, the way your hair whips around your face, the panicked little noises that slip from your mouth that you think he can’t hear.
Oh, but he can. He hears and sees it all, and he wants it. He wants you.
You have no fucking idea how cute you are like this, eyes widening when you chance a glance over your shoulder to find him gaining on you.
A high pitched shriek, and then he sees it—the ghost of a smile, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of your chest.
Toji feels his face split into a manic grin, desire coursing through his veins, clogging his arteries, making his mouth water and his dick twitch. When he gets his hands on you…
“You havin’ fun?” he calls from behind you, blessed with another look from you, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him, and it’s that curiosity that cuts this little game short.
You trip over a root and go down hard this time, grunt when all the air is pushed from your lungs. He doesn’t give you the chance to get back up, just puts his foot in the middle of your back to keep you in place.
Toji clicks his tongue in an admonishing tsk, presses down on you with a little more weight when you start to wiggle.
“I see why you’re so scared about those bounties,” he muses, “you’re way too fuckin’ easy to track down.”
“I wasn’t—hh—” he pushes harder just for the fun of it and is rewarded with a little squeak of desperation. “—wasn’t trying to hide.”
“No?” Toji removes his foot only to lower himself, squatting over you as he slinks a hand around your neck and tugs you toward him so that your back bends into a painful arch. “Why’s that?”
“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp, your fingers curling into the dirt, feet scrambling for traction to relieve some of the pressure he’s putting on your spine.
He laughs darkly, “you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? This your idea of foreplay?”
Without letting you answer, he lets go of you and flips you over, takes in the sight of your heaving chest and the wild look in your eyes.
“Tell me, doll, did that get your pussy wet?” He reaches between your legs, rubs your mound through your tights and smirks at how much heat is radiating from your core.
“Not so much fight in you now, is there?” he teases, licking his lips when you rub yourself against his palm.
“Would you just… nng fuck—just get on with it,” you grit.
“Get on with what?”
“Just fuck me!” you plead. It comes off as a demand, but Toji knows better, appreciates the position you’re in. You’re nothing but a scared dog, snapping at a hand that’s only trying to feed you.
“Right here?” he questions in fake surprise, “in the woods? Dirty girl.”
“Toji, I swear to God—”
He shuts you up with a harsh kiss, the kind that bruises, leaves lips split, swollen, and slick with spit. The kind of kiss that makes you chase him after he’s pulled away.
“You talk too much,” he states plainly, and all you do is slowly blink at him.
Yeah, he’s got you now. You’re fucking hooked, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
He’s nearly fully hard, grinds his cock against your stomach so that you can feel what you’ve gotten yourself into. You whimper and roll your hips, baiting him further, but he doesn’t go for it. Not yet.
Instead he sits back on his knees and paws at your tights, starting to pull them down before he gets impatient and simply tears. It doesn’t take much effort; they’re made of cheap material and Toji is, well, stronger than the average person.
You make a noise of protest, but it dies in your throat when he spreads your legs and stuffs your already dripping cunt with two of his fingers.
“I knew you were getting off on that—just like I knew you’d have the most gorgeous fuckin’ pussy,” he drawls, watching the way his fingers split you open and groaning at how warm and soft you are. God damn, you are going to feel divine wrapped around his cock.
“Come on, baby, tell me you liked it…” he licks a stripe up your neck, his free hand slipping under your sweatshirt to grope your tits— “heart’s beating so fast. You excited?”
You shake your head and buck your hips all at once, and when Toji leans close again, you surge up to catch him in another cruel kiss. This time, you fist your hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.
He lets you think you’re at least halfway in control, but the longer you taste him, the faster he fingerfucks you, his palm slapping against your clit as he increases the pace until you start to grow tense beneath him.
He knows that look, that tell-tale coil of muscles. You stop kissing him, breaths getting short and quick, but Toji keeps his face close to yours, growls at you to, “look at me while you cum,” as he pulls your first, messy orgasm from you.
You truly are a sight to behold, whole body spasming as your cunt sucks at his fingers. You break his gaze when your eyes roll into the back of your head, lips trembling around poorly formed pleas.
It feels like his last shred of sanity snaps. Seeing you run from him was one thing, triggered something primal in his brain that made him chase—hunt—but this, having you laid out on the dirt and the leaves…
This is how it was always supposed to be, Toji thinks to himself as he pulls his cock free from his pants. It throbs with every beat of his heart, pulsing in his palm and leaking pearly precum.
You’re soft and pliant from your orgasm, offering only a whimper when he readjusts and hikes your leg over his shoulder.
“Gonna be good for me, yeah?” he huffs, lining himself up with your sopping entrance, thick head prodding at your squishy ring of muscle. “Just take it like a good girl, just—”
He cuts himself off with a groan as he starts pushing in, bullying his way into your perfect cunt and reveling in the noises it makes. You suck him deeper and deeper, and Toji laughs at the expression painting your pretty face: shock, maybe a little fear as you struggle to look down at where you’re attached, watching as he fills you inch by inch.
Your body stretches around him, makes him feel like fucking Moses the way your spongy walls make room for his girth.
“Fuck… fuck, Toji, you’re—”
“Sh, sh, I know, sweetheart, just a little more,” he lies. He’s maybe halfway in, but there’s no way he’s stopping now, not until his cockhead is bruising your cervix.
You whine, back arching, and Toji tries to soothe you with a clumsy kiss only to hiss when you catch his lip and bite hard.
He grunts, tries to pull back, but you keep him still, drawing blood from his mouth first then his ribs when you claw at him. He can feel his shirt cling to the shallow wounds and growls when you release him, the sudden loss of pressure just as painful as the initial bite.
“Jesus, woman…”
“You—hah—deserve it,” you choke, stained mouth opening wider and wider with every inward thrust.
Your cry echoes in the woods when he bottoms out without warning, and Toji immediately sets a merciless pace. He watches you coat his thick shaft in cream, your poor little fuckhole so leaky and stretched. The noises you’re making are more animal than human, needy whines and pained grunts as you take everything he has to give.
Toji fists a hand in your hair, gives your head a little shake and watches the way your eyes slowly roll to meet his. Your lips are swollen, still red with his own blood, but they part when he tells you to, “open wide,” so he can spit on your tongue. Toji grins when you swallow, finally finally too out of your damn mind to talk back.
“That’s a good bitch,” he mutters, and when he sees your mouth twitch into a little smile, he pushes further, “that’s all you wanted, yeah? You just needed to be put in your place, huh, baby?”
He throws your other leg over his shoulder and locks both arms behind you, hands curling up your back to grip your shoulders. Rutting into you relentlessly, Toji kisses and bites all over your neck and chest, licking up the drool that slips from your mouth.
You’ll be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you’re tough, so you’ll live. And even if he has to listen to you bitch and moan, it’ll be worth it after feeling your sweet pussy wrapped around him, gushing all over his fat cock with every orgasm he forces out of you.
“T-Ji…”
It comes out more as a cough, one that Toji ignores as he feels his climax approach. He uses you like a toy, fucking into you over and over and committing the sticky squelch of your pussy to memory. He’s gonna replay this masterpiece over and over for years to come, fucking his fist while imagining the way you look right now—tears streaming down the sides of your face, lips spit slick and swollen, skin all bruised up from his own mouth and fingers.
Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, and you’re taking his cock so well, pussy swallowing him up and squeezin’ so so nice, he has to let go. He has to—
“Oh fuck, baby, gonna fill you up so good. You ready?”
You respond with a sort of gurgle that Toji takes as confirmation, and after a few more thrusts he empties his heavy balls inside of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum so much or so hard in his life, hot white painting your guts in viscous ropes until it starts seeping out around his cock.
Your poor cunt is so swollen, lips all puffy and messy with slick and cum. And that fat little clit—Toji pinches it, probably too mean, and coos at you to relax and take it when you start to sniffle.
“Sorry, baby. Gotta make sure you get yours too, right?” He knows you already have, but he can’t help but toy with you a little longer.
Besides, you’re being so good for him now, so docile as your body twitches, jaw moving like you want to say something but can’t, eyes rolling all around your pretty head until your muscles seize up and you cum for him one more time.
“There we go—that’s a good girl, see?” You blink teary eyes at him, a deep breath shuddering through you as one, maybe two senses return to you. “Feel better?”
You nod slowly as if confused. Or high. Probably the latter considering Toji is feeling pretty stoned too, a little dizzy as he sits up straight and leans back on his heels.
“Good. Next time you need the attitude fucked outta ya’, just tell me instead of actin’ like a bitch, ‘kay?”
A little smirk curls onto your face, and before Toji can react, you’re sitting up with two hands wrapped around his throat.
“Call me that again, and I’ll show you what a bitch can really do.”
Your palm presses against his windpipe in a threatening way. Your eyes shine with dark promise.
And Toji’s cock twitches at the idea of riling you up all over again.
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seven minutes in heaven.
a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that
18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here
♡‧₊˚
eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.
he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.
it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.
his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.
eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.
he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.
oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.
before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.
oh god oh god oh god.
‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.
steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.
please no. please literally anyone other than him.
if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.
‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.
it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.
it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.
‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.
he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.
with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-
‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.
‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.
‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.
eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.
‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?
‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.
‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.
okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.
he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.
your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.
adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.
your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.
deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.
your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.
‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.
he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.
‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.
his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.
he’s a goner.
grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.
‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.
there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.
‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.
‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.
he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.
‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.
you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.
‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.
you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.
the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.
‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.
sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.
it goes on and on.
robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.
then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.
steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.
and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.
it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.
eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.
‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.
eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.
‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.
‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.
he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.
‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.
‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.
‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.
‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.
‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.
instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.
the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.
when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.
‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.
hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’
your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.
‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.
‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.
‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.
he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.
tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?
just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.
‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.
‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.
‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.
‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.
using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.
your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.
‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.
his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.
‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.
‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’
his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.
‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.
‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.
even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.
your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.
that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.
but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.
this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.
you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.
he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.
your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.
‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.
his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.
‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.
was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.
it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.
‘yeah..’
you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.
‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’
‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.
‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.
he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.
and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.
you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.
a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.
‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.
eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.
‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.
‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.
that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.
he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.
lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.
his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.
‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.
your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.
he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.
you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.
there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.
‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.
his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.
eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.
a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.
‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.
‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.
‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.
‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.
his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader smut#stranger things x you#eddie munson fanfic
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it's kind of baffling to me that entire sub-groups of queer folks endured a decade of being singled out and targeted for being asexual, aromantic, bisexual, pansexual, nonbinary, polyamorous, etc. and i have yet to see any substantial apologies from people who were directly responsible for causing genuine harm. i find it completely bizarre that there are so many people who want to sweep their past contributions to widespread lateral aggression toward specific queer groups under the rug like it didn't happen so they can wash their hands of it... there are people who are irreversibly traumatized because of this. there are people who took their lives because of it.
i'm wording the post like despite the fact that exclusionism targeting these groups (and more) continues to persist partly because it was a really frighteningly common trend to harass people just because they were ace, aro, bi, pan, nonbinary, poly, etc... and it's crazy to me that many of the people who were affected by this massive multi-pronged public online bullying campaign against the 'unacceptable types of queers' are the ones still receiving messages like "my url got put on an aphobe blocklist in 2016 because apparently a post i made making fun of asexuals got some teenage asexuals harassed and i still distrust asexuals to this day because of that" ...are you fucking kidding me?
we will never achieve any kind of unity as a queer community while we are insisting upon ignoring the hurt that lateral aggression has caused, and acting like the burden lies on the shoulders of the people who were harmed to forgive the people who harmed them and 'just move on', many of whom are not sorry for what they did! or they don't consider what they did to be wrong! how is that not deeply disturbing and troubling to more of you?
03/06/2024 edit: i’m putting a complete moratorium on this post because i am really sick and tired of having my point not only completely misconstrued and distorted entirely but also weaponized against transfems (particularly in replies i have decided to delete about how “ugh yes, exclusionism, and now transfems are bullying transmascs”) i find that really sickening and i’m demanding that it stop, and i can make it stop by turning off reblogs. so i have.
my objective in writing this post was never to request an apology from people who have been laterally-aggressive exclusionists in the past. i don’t think we’ll ever get more than a handful of apologies from those people, anyway. my point was that it was pretty terrifying to witness and experience a lot of lateral aggression that transferred from the real, in-person world to the deeply online spaces back into the real, in-person world in a really fucked up feedback loop and being a young queer person during this time and having that shape me, snd shape the experiences of my queer friends who have been traumatized by it.
however, it is absolutely unacceptable to me that the issue of transmisogyny is so blatantly overlooked by our entire community. for decades, transfems have experienced oppression and exclusion from transmisogyny-exempt women and queers. their exclusion from political queer liberation movements has caused many of the major schisms within our community we are still having arguments about to this day. if you want collective queer liberation, you must uplift transfems. there is no other option. you don’t get to write off all transfems just because one person who happened to be transfem was mean to you online or something.
i have answered and responded to way too many conspiracy-brained transmisogynist reactionaries to allow this post to keep fucking snowballing with people writing paragraphs in the tags about ��transmisandry” or “transandrophobia.” please get your heads out of your asses.
this absolutely is the transmisogyny website, as always, and the place where all basic textual comprehension skills go to die, apparently.
#and we wonder why the fuck this site has such a massive transmisogyny problem#don't think i wasn't there when you were harassing and bullying my pan and aspec transfem friends#the way that trans people with any of these labels were excluded from being 'allowed' to call themselves queer...#literally on that basis. and had their transness ignored completely or invalidated.#i hope we're at a place now in 2024 where we can remember and accept that trauma happening online doesn't make it less traumatic#the damage that it did to so many of my friends and myself to be told over and over again we didn't count as queer#while actively being abused and beaten and harassed by queerphobes in our real day to day lives#extra especially for those of us who had to grow up rurally and/or disabled whose portal/lifeline to queer culture of any kind was online
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The Elevator Encounters
Oliver sighed as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor to his small appartment. It was late, and he was exhausted after the long work day he just had. As the elevator slowly made it's way up, he leaned against the wall and looked at his important work e-mails.
The elevator dinged at the first floor, he looked up.
The doors slid open, and in walked two figures, ones that Oliver specifically didn't want to share the elevator ride with - Young jocks. They were obviously going back from the gym, based on their clothes and the sweat gleaming off their muscular bodies, making the air filled with an overpowering scent of sweat, musk, and overall unpleasant raw masculinity. They grinned at him, but there was something off about their smiles, apart from the fact that they had yellowish teeth.
“Hey man, looking a little scrawny there,” one of them said with a chuckle, stepping closer.
Before Oliver could think about responding, the jock who made the highschool bully-like comment placed his hand on his shoulder, sending a shock through his body. His mind paused as his muscles tensed. He tried to speak, but his thoughts were suddenly slow, his words stumbling as the jock's voice seemed to echo in his head, while the funk coming from them was hypnotizing him more and more.
“You need to bulk up, bro,” the other one added, his deep voice reverberating through the small space.
As the jocks stared into his eyes, he felt his body waking up as his muscles weirdly tightened. His arms felt bigger, but not excessively huge as they swelled beneath his shirt and his biceps thickened. Oliver tried to fight it, to escape, but all he could do was watch as his veins pushed to the surface. His shoulders broadened, and his chest started to push outward, straining against the fabric of his shirt. His muscles grew in a lean/jock way, but not in a bodybuilder way.
“Yeah, that’s it… bigger, hotter,” the first jock whispered in his ear, his eyes locked onto the reflection in the mirror, watching his body slowly grow and change.
He couldn’t think— his mind was so slow and foggy, and all he could hear was the jocks’ voices, urging him to grow, to get bigger, to become more like them. His thoughts felt slower, dumber, but he didn’t care, he was becoming too stupid to care.
The elevator dinged again.
The doors opened to reveal another jock, less muscular than the last two but more defined and "twunk" like, He squeezed into the elevator with a smirk, his eyes immediately locking onto Oliver.
“Looks like you could use some help. You wanna be a fuckboy, right?” the new jock asked, his voice a low growl.
He nodded, unable to resist. He never signed up for this, or wanted it at all, but his body was already halfway through the transformation, and there was more to come.
“Good… real good. Let’s make you the fuckboy you were meant to be,” the jock said as his hand slid down to his neck.
The moment he touched his throat, his voice deepened, becoming more teenager ish but more commanding. He felt a surge of power wash over him, his thoughts slowing even further, reduced to slow, dumb and primal instincts. The scent of the jocks—raw, sweaty, alpha— kept filling his nose, clouding his mind even more.
The elevator stopped again.
Another jock, covered in a sheen of sweat, stepped in - his body radiating heat and power. He leaned against the elevator wall, smirking as he looked him up and down.
“Smell that, bro? That’s what a real man smells like,” he said, flexing his defined but lean biceps. “Let’s see if you can smell good like us.”
Oliver felt a weird sensation as his skin, already slick with sweat from his previous interactions, began to emit a stronger, smellier funk. But unlike the overwhelming, vomit-worthy stench he feared, it was more subtle—masculine and intense, and thankfully not unbearable. It lingered in the air, radiating from his body, especially from his pits, feet, and his butt. He noticed a hint of funk rising from his feet, which now felt way larger and heavier in his shoes. His armpits felt sticky with sweat, the hair becoming bushier, and his body gave off a natural stink that fit the dumb fuckboy he was turning into.
He could feel the sweat from his entire body drooling in his pits and lower back, as the ripe odor made itself known more and more. Occasionally, a deep rumble in his gut hinted at something else—an urge to release a primal, manly dominating stink from within. He felt the pressure but didn’t care, he released it, and felt the ripe air escaping his butt as his fart filled the elevator, making the other jocks proud of who Oliver became.
The jocks had finished their jobs and left the elevator, only 2 floors were left.
The elevator dinged once again
The doors opened to reveal a new group entering. This time, it wasn’t jocks. Three twinks stepped inside, their eyes fixing onto Oliver. They were all cute, 18 to 20 year olds and their slim physiques were as perfect as you'd imagine. As they entered, the air shifted. Their presence and vibe was different—calmer, cooler, but with a predatory edge of their own.
One of the twinks leaned in close, his perfect fingers brushing against Oliver’s chest. "You’re hot," he purred, "but we’re going to make sure you’re hot everywhere, babe."
Before Oliver could respond, one of the twinks bowed down in front of him, his fingers trailing along his thighs as he felt a sudden jolt in his lower half. His pants tightened, but this time not from muscle—his package was swelling, pressing hard against the fabric. He groaned, the sensation almost overwhelming, as his manhood shifted, growing thicker but not longer, it was becoming shorter. His dick ending at a short 3.9 inches, but very thick and veiny. The twink stood up, satisfied, brushing his fingers along Oliver’s bulge slowly while smirking.
"Now you’re packing like a real stud," he whispered with a smirk.
Another twink, standing behind him, traced his hand along Oliver’s broad back before settling on his rear. With a teasing squeeze, he murmured, “Let’s give you something that really stands out.”
Oliver gasped as his backside started to change. His ass filled out, growing firm and round, pushing against the tight fabric of his pants. His hips widened slightly, giving him a more defined, powerful stance. He could feel the weight of his new, perfectly sculpted butt, the kind that drew attention wherever he went.
The third twink, stepped in front of him. "But that face..." he said, lifting a hand to Oliver’s chiseled jawline, "it needs to be flawless. Let’s make you like, a real pretty boy."
As the twink’s fingers brushed against his face, Oliver’s features started to shift. His cheekbones lifted slightly, giving him a more youthful, angular look. His skin smoothed out, free of any imperfections. His lips plumped slightly, taking on a fuller, more kissable shape, while his eyes brightened, becoming sharper and more striking. He could feel his whole face rearranging into something undeniably hot, almost model-like, with a perfect mix of masculinity and beauty.
The twinks stepped back to admire their work. “Not done yet,” one of them murmured, reaching up to run his hand through Oliver’s hair. His curls were wild and unkempt from the transformation so far, but that was about to change. With a snap of his fingers, the twink adjusted Oliver’s hair, turning it into a sleek, styled cut that framed his new face perfectly. His hair shortened and cleaned up, still curly but with a deliberately messy yet stylish look, the kind that took no effort but looked flawless.
“Now you’re perfect,” the first twink said, admiring him from head to toe. Oliver glanced into the elevator’s mirror. His reflection was nearly unrecognizable—a mix of power, beauty, and primal masculinity. His muscles were large, but his proportions were refined. His face was sharp and stunning. His package strained against his pants, his ass round, firm and rock hard to the touch.
As the elevator continued to climb, the twinks circled him like vultures, admiring their creation. He was a masterpiece of both raw, primal strength and irresistible beauty—a perfect alpha, but with a twinkish touch of aesthetic perfection.
Oliver could barely think. His thoughts were slow and clouded, reduced to basic, primal urges. All he could feel was the overwhelming power coursing through his body, mixed with the vain satisfaction of his perfect looks. He flexed in the mirror, grinning dumbly as the elevator stopped, one last time.
The twinks left the elevator with Oliver, all going to his apartment for a little 'test drive'.
#straight to bi#nerd to jock#fuckboy tf#musk#male transformation#male tf#jockification#mental change#muscle tf#jock tf#transformation
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You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously
Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.
Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.
Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !
Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.
And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.
Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.
And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he have Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.
Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.
There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :
Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.
Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.
And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…
As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.
Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best he could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…
Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.
A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.
And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.
Clearly not the same as with the heroes...
Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.
#bnha spoilers#bnha 430#bnha#mha 430#bnha epilogue#endeavor#enji todoroki#izuku midoriya#tomura shigaraki#jin bubaigawara#toga himiko#shuichi iguchi#kurogiri#dabi#touya todoroki#hawks#takami keigo#league of villains#bnha meta#my hero academia
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Eddie is used to getting recognized in public, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.
And Gareth knows how much he doesn’t like it, so Eddie’s not really sure why his best friend has completely abandoned him like this. Well, maybe abandon is a little dramatic. He said he’d be right back, but that was half an hour ago, and there’s only so many times he can circle the park and dive into bushes anytime someone gets too close. Which is why Eddie left the park altogether and is now sitting at a bus station. No one would expect notorious Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson to be at a bus station, right?
Except he’s not sure the hat and sunglasses and incongruous location are quite doing their job. A group of kids across the road have stopped and they’re all whispering amongst themselves as they look at him. Eddie really wishes he had something to conceal himself with, but his hand over his face would definitely look way too suspicious. He’s thinking he might just have to cut and run and take his chances back in the park bushes.
That is, until the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life sits in the seat next to him, unfurling a giant map that easily shields both of them. Eddie’s fucking savior.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know how to get to Japantown, would you?” the guy asks.
As it happens, Eddie does know how to get to Japantown. He hasn’t actually ridden the bus in years, but he still remembers the route. “Yeah,” he says, pointing it out on the map. “You just get on line five headed east and ride it like nine or ten stops until you get to McAllister and Fillmore. From there you just have to walk a few blocks to get into the area.”
The guy looks at him with big eyes, brown and a little droopy. “McAllister and Fillmore,” he repeats, like he’s trying to memorize it. He has pretty pink lips, glistening a little like he’s wearing lipgloss.
Fuck, he’s adorable. And looks a bit prone to getting lost. And Eddie’s still kind of mad at Gareth for leaving him high and dry out here. So as the bus pulls up to the stop, Eddie figures what the hell?
“I’m actually headed that way,” Eddie says, standing. “I can show you.”
The guy’s whole face brightens and fuck, he really is gorgeous. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, big boy.”
The bus is blessedly empty other than one shriveled up lady sitting towards the front with her groceries and a teenager in the middle with giant headphones and their nose in a book. Eddie heads to the back with the guy, who now has a faint blush dusting his nose and cheeks.
“I’m Steve, by the way,” he says as he sits in the seat next to Eddie. “What’s your name?”
So that confirms that Steve doesn’t know who he is. It didn’t seem like he did from how he was reacting, but it’s a bit of relief to know for sure. “Eddie,” he says, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s. “Nice to meet you.”
Steve gives him a smile that’s about as radiant as the sun as he nudges Eddie’s shoulder back. “You too.”
“So what do you have going on in Japantown?” Eddie asks.
“I’m headed to a baby shower for some friends who live near there,” he says, “Well, it’s not a real baby shower.”
“No?”
“‘Cause it’s not a real baby. That is, it’s not a human baby.”
Eddie lifts his eyebrows. “I think you lost me.”
Steve twists in his seat and starts gesturing with his hands. “Well, it all started when they found out that one of their cats wasn’t actually spayed and had gotten knocked up by a stray,” he says, “And Robin was like, ‘Hey, more cats, that’s a good thing,’ and Nancy was like, ‘No, our neighbors already think we’re crazy cat ladies.’”
“Uh huh.”
“So they compromised and decided they would keep one kitten and give the rest away,” Steve says, “So it’s less of a come give us presents for our baby shower and more of a please take our babies away shower. You know?”
“Oh yeah, one of those,” Eddie says, and Steve laughs.
“Hey, are you in the market for a kitten?” he asks. “Cause if you are, I totally know where you can get one.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Honestly?” he says, “I’ve got nothing else going on. Why the hell not?”
Steve gives him another one of those radiant smiles and Eddie can’t help but hope he gets more than a kitten by the end of this.
#robin: what is eddie munson doing in our living room?#steve: you guys already know my new friend eddie?#i honestly don't really know what this is#i woke up from a nap and this was just in my brain#so do with it what you will#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ficlet
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band!ellie 2 headcanons and smau
read this
sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her).
cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, explicit, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp, not explicit if reader is fem or masc.
part 1
band!ellie who made it unbelievable for dina and jesse to believe she found her girl, but then they met you.
“this shit's cringe as fuck, but you two are sweet…” jesse starts and dina immediately agrees. “yeah, she's perfect for you, el.” “i knowwwww, i need her.” jumping like a teenage girl fr...
band!ellie who sometimes thinks her bandmates like you way too much.
“invite y/n to the next rehearsal too for real.” jesse says after you leave a rehearsal you went to. “okay man i get it, she's amazing.” with an annoyed expression. “so… invite her.” dina chuckles. “no, i don't want any of you jumping on my girl.” but she does invite you anyway.
band!ellie who's so stupid tbh, she's gonna sign girls’ tits after concerts and act all oblivious when you swerve her kisses.
and swerving her is so fun istg, she's gonna try like 4 times before she's upset. UPSET! (she will go non verbal).
band!ellie who's the type to perform and glance at you like you're about to have sex right that instant (u will, after the concert tho!).
band!ellie who's a singer herself but turns on the tv and pretends to be the weeknd for you.
band!ellie who wishes she could rap… actually, no. she thinks she can.
"that was... something." you smirk and she scoffs, throwing herself on the couch she was standing on, mic in hand. "i'm literally in my rapper era but whatever, you'll see." and you're full on laughing. "don't laugh." and you come hug her and say she's so so special.
band!ellie who makes it so you can't open x (twitter) without seeing girls mourning your girlfriend… she's alive not single tho!
band!ellie who's always late for everything, but she tries her best istg. you and the band are TIREDDD.
band!ellie who's nervous about pda… but she likes it, showing everyone you're hers and she's yours.
band!ellie who made a slideshow about how you should move into her apartment… that was kinda like:
“REASONS FRRRR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯
ALL OF THEM 🤣
we're literally soulmates so we gotta be roommates too???
countless sleepovers omg i'm crying!
i'll never be late again (kinda😬)
we can get a pet tg 😯
i'll get to listen to u sing in the shower more and you know i like hearing you and singing with you while im in the toilet or even outside the bathroom
passionate lesbian sex before sleeping, after eating, doing the dishes, the laundry ALL THE TIME
i love you the most and i want you close all the time
you love me back (i hope) so you gotta want me close too
i want you as my wife asap
think about it, thanks and please my love ❤️”
you moved in… weak mf but can anyone blame you??
band!ellie who loves cooking with you for friends and family when they come over. just loves being with you in general but even house chores are better with you??
band!ellie who comes to disturb see you at your job, your bosses hate her and said they were gonna stop selling their album 😒 (they actually love her).
band!ellie who switches from your serious cool rockstar girlfriend to your silly baby girlfriend in a second.
band!ellie who reposts them and comments under edits fans make of you, even more than her own edits.
“that's my baby so stop gawking.(jk)” “whats her @” “id repost but my gf would be jealous, shes hot asf 🤤🤤” “THAT'S MY GIRL” “creamed💔” "straight to the y/n folder" someone said “ellie cant handle allat” and she replied fr “true, she the one handling me 💯💢” SHE HAS NO CHILL...
band!ellie who pays the same attention to potential hate you'd get, she will block them… don't talk about her girl.
nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e and r!receiving], fingering [e and r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).
band!ellie who treats you like a star
you were supposed to be in the shower but ellie saw you stripping out of your clothes and she has to ask to kiss your clit, dropping to her knees. her fingers bruising your thighs and shes eating you out as if she'd been starving. you cum but she's not satisfied yet, she pulls you down on the bedroom carpet with her "give me another one, please." hands roaming your skin ever so softly, sending shivers down your body. she asks what you want, the position, how many fingers, she just needs to please you. and now she's on top of you, pounding you with her fingers and pressing down your lower stomach because she just wants you to cum again.
band!ellie who loves sleepy sex
she's gonna be in bed with you, almost asleep asking you for kisses, then for some touches... and you end up between her legs, sloppy nasty head and some slow fingering. your lips around her clit and kissing her pussy lips and slit and your fingers in and out her pussy. she's whining and squealing, playing with her own tits and caressing ur face. you're humming against her pussy and she's clenches "let go for me, ellie..." you coo and she squirts on your mouth and fingers. soft pants leaving her lips, soon stopping with her caresses on your face as you lick her cum. you look up, hair messy against the pillow and eyes closed. "i love you..." she mutters after you clean her and lay next to her "i love you." you spoon her.
a/n: this is kinda shitty but it's for who asked for more! @kyleeservopoulos @sameenatruther @harrysslutsstuff
#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie tlou2#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x female reader#ellie x fem reader#lover girl!ellie#ellie imagine#ellie x masc reader#rockstar!ellie#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams smau#ellie williams hcs
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Heatwave: Day 4
tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry
Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other
childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.
Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.
You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.
In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.
Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.
Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.
You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.
As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.
This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.
Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.
It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.
It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.
“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”
“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.
It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.
“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.
“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”
“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.
You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.
-
You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.
But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.
What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.
Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.
It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.
Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.
Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.
Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.
A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.
However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.
Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.
That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –
And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.
Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.
But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.
And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.
Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.
Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.
Cool, cool, okay, cool.
But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!
It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.
It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.
Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.
But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.
Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.
You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.
Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.
A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.
Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.
His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.
Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.
Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.
You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.
(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)
Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.
Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.
“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”
“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”
“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”
“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”
And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.
That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.
What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.
It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.
Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.
Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.
He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.
He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.
So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.
Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.
Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.
They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.
Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.
But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.
The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.
Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.
He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.
For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.
If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.
Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.
But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...
And you’re just as confused as before.
Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.
There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.
It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.
You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.
Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.
Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.
He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –
No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.
And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.
Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.
Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.
There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.
He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.
Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!
And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.
Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.
But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.
Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.
Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.
Wait. Is he… is Gojo…
You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.
One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.
This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.
What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?
“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.
Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.
…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?
Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.
There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.
“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?
“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.
You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”
“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”
Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?
You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.
It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.
“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”
He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.
Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).
But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.
His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.
It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.
“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.
Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.
What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.
There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.
No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!
Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.
Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that’s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.
This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.
The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?
But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.
From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.
Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.
So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?
Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.
Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.
Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.
But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.
-
After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.
“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”
“Never, Satoru-sensei~”
“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”
“I never admitted that!”
(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)
Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.
-
You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.
It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!
So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.
Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.
And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.
The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.
“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.
“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.
He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.
The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?
Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.
“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”
“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.
“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”
“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.
Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.
It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.
By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).
He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.
It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.
You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.
Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.
Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –
Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!
Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.
The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.
It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.
He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???
It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!
Did he – why would he –
If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???
The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.
You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.
The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.
That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.
“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”
You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!
“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”
He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?
A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”
You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.
Your face is hot. So, so hot.
“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”
Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.
He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.
“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”
“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”
The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.
Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.
“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.
He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”
“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”
“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”
“But you want to – ”
“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”
A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.
But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.
“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”
Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.
You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”
“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.
Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.
“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.
Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.
“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”
God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.
“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.
And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.
He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”
“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”
“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”
“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”
Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.
There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.
Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.
“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”
You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”
Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.
“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”
“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”
You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.
Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.
Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.
“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”
One last time?
God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.
“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.
Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –
“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”
At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.
“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.
“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”
“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”
Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.
Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.
You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –
“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”
The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.
He doesn’t mean…
The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.
His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.
Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.
Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.
A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.
When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.
The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.
He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!
Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.
He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.
The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.
And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.
Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.
Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.
You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.
Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.
He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.
Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.
It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.
“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.
You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.
“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.
Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”
"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "
You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.
And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.
"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."
Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.
God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.
"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.
He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.
"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”
When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?
“Not an omega, Satoru.”
“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”
Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”
“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”
And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!
“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.
He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”
Then you should take care of him, this time.
“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.
And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.
“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”
“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”
There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?
He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.
It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.
But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.
Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.
Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.
You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.
“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”
With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.
It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.
No wonder the toy’s so big.
You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.
(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)
Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.
You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.
When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?
Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.
And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.
You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.
Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.
You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.
He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.
Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.
He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.
Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.
It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.
“Say my name.”
You hear it.
You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.
He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.
It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.
Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.
Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.
His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”
Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.
“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”
When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.
“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”
It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.
He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?
One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.
You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.
When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.
“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.
The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.
He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.
While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.
When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.
His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.
It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.
You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.
“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”
He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.
There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.
He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.
He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.
“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”
Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.
You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.
So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.
Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.
Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.
The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.
“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”
There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”
His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”
Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”
The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.
You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.
Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.
And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.
Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.
“I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”
“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”
Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”
God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.
Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.
Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.
He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”
“What’s yours?”
“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.
That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.
God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?
“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”
“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.
You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”
“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”
“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”
Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”
Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”
His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.
“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”
The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –
It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.
You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.
Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.
A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.
Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.
Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.
It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.
Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.
Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.
“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”
His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.
Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.
“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”
Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.
“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”
-
Hours ago
“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”
Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”
“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”
“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”
“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”
“Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”
Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”
“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."
His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”
It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.
“So… have you told them?”
He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”
"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"
"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"
That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.
Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”
“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.
“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”
The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”
“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”
“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”
“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”
“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”
That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”
“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”
“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”
“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.
He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”
“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”
“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”
Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”
“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”
Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”
“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.
“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”
“Ha! Neither did you.”
“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”
Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”
Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.
“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”
He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”
Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.
He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.
Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.
Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.
That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.
If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.
“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”
“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”
A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”
“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”
“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”
Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”
Satoru looks away.
They both know why he didn’t ask.
“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”
The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.
His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.
“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”
Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”
“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”
Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.
You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.
You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.
Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.
“Good luck, Satoru.”
-
You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.
He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.
The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.
“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”
Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.
Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”
He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.
And then, for a moment, he pauses.
“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”
He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.
“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”
He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.
For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –
“EEEEHHH??”
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#omegaverse#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru x reader#satoru x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#satoru smut#lemon#alpha gojo#beta reader#afab!reader#gn!reader
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something like love
part - 3
pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd
word count - 3.3k
c/w - language, slight homophobia
a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!
Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.
What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.
It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.
Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.
Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?
Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.
Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”
The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”
Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”
“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”
Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”
“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”
Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”
“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.
“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”
“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.
“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.
“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.
“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”
Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”
“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”
Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?
It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.
Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.
“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”
“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”
“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.
“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”
Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”
Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”
Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“
“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.
As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”
“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.
But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.
“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”
“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”
Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”
Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.
“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”
Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”
Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.
“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.
“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”
Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”
Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.
“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”
“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”
Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”
“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”
“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”
“Yo!”
—————————————
Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.
Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.
“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”
“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.
They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.
She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”
“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.
“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.
“Huh?” Paige says.
“You said something.”
“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”
“Paige.”
“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”
“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”
“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”
“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.
“Are you dumb?” Paige says.
“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”
“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.
It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”
Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?
“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”
“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”
Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”
Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.
They’re inches apart.
Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.
Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.
Paige gasps.
Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”
Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.
Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.
—————————————
They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”
Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”
“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”
He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”
Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.
“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.
“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”
Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.
“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”
Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.
“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”
“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.
“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”
At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.
Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”
“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”
“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.
Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”
She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.
Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.
“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.
She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”
Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.
@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334
#azzi fudd#fake dating#paige buckets#paige bueckers#pazzi#pazzi fics#the people's princess#uconn wbb#wbb#wcbb
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Summary: Spencer meeting your apartment for the first time because you avoided it because of the decoration
Words: 1.8K
Relationship: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, fingering, fluff, creampie, praise.
A/N: Writing this because my room is the example of fangirl. Btw when I use taylor pics is more because they already have the gray filter and not because I picture Y/N to be like that.
Request are open.ᐟ
➜Masterlistᝰ.ᐟ
When you enter the BAU, you decided to act more serious and stop using a lot of colors like you usually did on your daily routine.
Your personality changed too and you stopped yourself from mentioning your likes and about being a big fan about certain things to not look childish.
That continue even after two years of being with the team and having trust in them, you still choosed to be close about your fanatic side and your love for concerts.
The only person that knew was Penelope and you two had went to concerts together and everything when you both had time.
After you started dating Spencer you had changed with him and decided to be more warm with him and open a lot more, when you two had a date you dressed up with a little more of color, clothes that actually reflected your real personality more.
Of all the things that you had been open about with him on late nights together after making love, there was one that you were scared of and it was your apartment.
Your apartment was colorful and was like the reflected of a teenage girl for most of the people who had been there in the past, past partners and situationships had told you that it was childish and that you should changed it.
You almost stayed at his apartment always, being asleep in each others arms was one of the best feeling in the world that both of you could have feel so being there was common for you.
He had asked you about seeing your apartment a couple of times through your relationship of less than a year but you always had an excuse to avoid that from happening.
For example, a month ago while the team was in a case, he had asked you if he could see your apartment.
"I was wondering if that when we're back, can I go to your apartment?"
"Sorry but one of my friend fought with his partner and now they're staying at my house while thinking about their relationship, maybe in another chance." You made your best effort to make your voice sound nonchalant and casual and not let him know about your lies.
Now, you were sat on your desk writing you reports when you amazing boyfriend brought you coffee. While you were tasting the coffee after not having too much sleep at night, you heard the voice of your boyfriend.
"I want to ask you if today I could go to your apartment, no more excuses so don't try to invent something, I had let it passed many times." He was serious when he said that statement, he had gotten tired from hearing all the excuses that fall from your lips.
In that moment you knew it was finally time to give up and let him see it. "I'm sorry for had been lying to you, in compensation I let you go tonight and I make dinner, what do you think?" Your voice was tired, you stared at his annoyed gaze waiting for his response to your proposition.
"You call me if you want me to brought your anything for the dinner." He said before going back to his desk letting you alone with your thoughts, drowing slowly in them fearing of him being the same as your previous partners
After work, you were back at your apartment cleaning everything until it was almost perfect. You had spent almost a hour choosing what to wear of your actually daily clothes.
When it was time, he was there at your door, with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. "This are for you and your apartment."
You took them from his hands and gave him a kiss. "Before you see everything, please don't judge me." He denied with his head, and gave you another kiss on your forehead.
You let him enter and he could already notice your decorate style from the entrance hall, it had plants and a painting of a husky with her family.
"You have a dog?" Spencer asked you while seeing the painting of the dog and your family. He didn't ask you much about your family to avoid making you uncomfortable if you had any problem of trauma related to them.
"Yes, is a family dog and she is very cute, I wanted to take her with me but the job makes that impossible." You glanced at the painting again and nostalgia filled your mind, he notice that and gave you another kiss on your forehead.
Your apartment was very different from what he expected, it was the contrary of minimalist but in a good way, everything was at balance.
The living room was colorful, the couch with plants at the side that looked well taken care and a coffee table had a nice vase with flowers and candles with cute forms. The wall behind it was cover with vinyls of your favorite artists. Your television had led lights behind it to make it look cool while watching series.
The kitchen was also colorful, the electrodomestics were of pastel tones. The cabinets, drawers and the kitchen island were of a pistachio green tone.
"I know it too colorful and it looks childish but-" He didn't let you finish your nervous speech about defending your apartment.
"It's looks nice, you made a great job at decorating it, it isn’t overwhelming for me." His voice had an effect on you and you stopped, his hand went to your back and started to make relaxing circles to calm you down. "It's nice that you have vinyls and a record player, the quality is better only on the first play."
"That's why I liked them but I have more cds, they are more cheaper to collect." You went to put the flowers in the vase and when you were done he had already entered your gamer room.
That room had a setup gamer of a lilac color and had figures and a lot of things, posters of series and movies on the walls.
"This is how you spent your free time?" His tone didn't sound in mockery, it was actually curiosity.
"Yes, I like to play videogames normally when I have time, not bloody types or anything like that, more like Minecraft." You lay your head on his shoulder while he was seeing the room.
"What's Minecraft?" He was confused and he looked at you with his puppy eyes, those that had made you fall many times and still worked like the first time he had kissed you or hugged you.
For a moment you looked confused too until you remembered that your boyfriend didn't use technology if it wasn't necessary. "It's difficult to explain but it's a open world game, I show you later."
You two went back to the living room and sat on the couch and were cuddling while watching tv, it felt nice to be with him like this and forgetting about any preocupation or stress about the job, you wished it was always like this.
You move your head and gave him a innocent kiss that carried all the appreciation that you felt for him for not laughing at your apartment, he gave you another of his that had been more intense and that had let you breathless.
You felt how one of his hands travel from your thigh to under your lilac skirt, until the pad of his fingers made contact with the cotton fabric of your panties, he started to rub them feeling how you were getting wet.
You let out sighs at the feeling of him rubbing the wet fabric against your clit over and over again, slowly driving you crazy, you hid your head on the crook of his neck to avoid your neighbors from complaining about you.
"You lied to me for four months straight and you don't feel remorse, maybe I should stop and not give you relief." His voice sounded husky while he whispered against the shell of your ear, his voice making you shiver at the feeling of his breath.
He continued his teasing, your panties were soaked with your arousal and you where getting too worked up, your whole body was burning like a pile of old papers.
"Please Spencer, I want it." You whined against his ear hoping that he would take mercy on you and give you the release that you needed in that moment.
His pace was getting faster and harder with any moment, you were a mess of moans and whines, his lips against your forehead giving you kisses and whispering sweet nothings to you.
"You look beautiful like this, you wanted it too much, don't you?" His tone was half sweet and half teasing, he love to make you feel like this, to make you felt frustrated and then give you what you wanted.
He notice you were close to reaching your orgasm and stopped his fingers on his tracks, you whined and started to move your hips to tried to reach you peak alone but his hands grabbed your hips and stopped your motion.
You threw your head back in frustration until you heard the sound of the zipper of his pants, you open your eyes to see the bulge inside his boxers, you felt how you breath got faster again.
You straddled his lap and pulled his boxers down to let his member free, he helped you and entered you with one deep thrust making almost scream from the feeling of him being deep inside you.
His pace continue making you see stars and touching the sky, the living room filled with your moans and whines along with his groans of pure pleasure.
"You're too tight, so good my love, so fucking good." He said against your skin of your shoulder, his voice sounded breathless just like yours.
That's when the orgasm hit you both at the same time, you screamed his name and repeated like a mantra while he whisper praise against your collarbone while kissing it.
"I think is better if we order take out and take a break." You were trying to recover your breath and he just gave you a nod and caress your back under your cardigan and top.
He nodded and took you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom, in that instant you remember why you didn't let him. When he enter he found three plushies on your bed and doll on your desk.
When he saw that, he just lay you down on your bed and looked around. "I still don't see nothing bad, your room is nice and your entire apartment is nice too my love."
He gave you another kiss on your cheek this time making you giggle a little and pulling him for a hug.
Taglist: @bre99 @hiireadstuff @javierpenasredshirt @pleasantwitchgarden @iniyalovesall @caffine-queen @fab-notfat @khxna
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