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too-deviant · 2 months

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jackie and wilson.

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summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

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mymegumi · 5 months

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GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library—all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.”

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never… pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

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kooktrash · 9 months

Text

jealousy ink | jeon jungkook drabble

DRABBLE FOR: ROMANTIC DREAMS but you don’t have to read it, this drabble can stand alone

summary: you can’t help but seem a little jealous about your boyfriend doing tattoos on women when he doesn’t even let you talk to guys without him being around. you tell yourself you’re just mad at the unfairness but when he brings you pleasure with his head between your legs you seem to forget all about it.

warnings: smut. jealousy. [jk eats oc out on his tattoo chair]

Like usual, the studio was dark aside from a few gothic looking lamps in the corners and the bright light he had above his work station. Ohms by Deftones played louder than necessary with the buzzing of his tattoo gun to try and keep him focused on his work. His gaze kept shifting toward the clock for each second that passed after 7pm. The sun had set so his shop was even darker than usual but he didn’t need much light to work anyway. It’s just that the later he got, the more worried he was, where are you?

“So when do you plan on getting here?” Taehyung asked on the phone as you walked the short distance from the bus stop to Jungkook’s tattoo parlor. It was late and you were just now getting off work but you had plans to meet up with your friends later so you were waiting for Jungkook to get off.

“I’m going to Jungkook’s work right now and we’ll head over when he finishes,” you told him, already seeing the shop in view. You couldn’t see him but you could just picture him rolling his eyes.

“He couldn’t have just met you over here instead of making you get the bus all the way to him?” Taehyung asked, clearly sounding annoyed, “He does realize I’ve known you a lot longer than he has, right? He doesn’t have to get jealous every time we hang out and he doesn’t have to force you to bring him along.”

You didn’t say anything for a minute as you stood outside the shop. The way the windows were set up was for privacy, they were tinted dark with ‘Jeon’s Ink’ in pretty calligraphy painted on the window. From the inside you could look out but from the outside you can’t look in and you seemed to forget that part as you came to a stop in front of his shop, still on the phone with Taehyung. You ran your hand over your hair with a sigh, trying to think of what to say, “Tae… it’s not like that, he’s not… we’re dating, it’s normal to want to spend time together.”

Once again, Jungkook found himself checking the time wondering where the hell you were. The girl he was tattooing was kind of getting on his nerves and he just wanted to finish but he also didn’t want to rush and do a shifty job so he was trying to bite back his tongue from responding to her.

“So does your girlfriend have any tattoos?” She asked him.

“Not yet,” Jungkook said, looking up on instinct and froze. The tattoo gun in his hand kept protruding ink but he no longer had it on his client, he was too distracted by the sight of you to move. You stood in front of his shop with your phone pressed up to your ear and you were smiling at whoever you were on the phone with.

He couldn’t help but press his tongue against his cheek in annoyance as he looked back down to get to work again but he was just bothered at this point.

First, you made these stupid plans with Taehyung and got mad when he said he was going with. Like, there’s no way you actually got upset with him, as if he would let you go hang out with another guy when he’s not around? He doesn’t care if it’s just your friend, he doesn’t trust him. Why does Taehyung feel the need to hang out with you one on one? Is he trying to take you away from him because Jungkook is not going to let him.

Second thing that bothered him was how little you texted him today. You were barely responding to him, even when he sent you three texts in a row you still didn’t respond for three hours. He gets you’re busy but he’s busy too and he finds time for you so why can’t you make time for him?

And third, the fact that you’re late and you’re on the phone with a huge smile not even caring that he’s been waiting for you.

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” you finally said, “He’s probably wondering why I’m not inside yet.”

Taehyung just brushed it off and let you go with a goodbye. You wasted no time in opening the front door, immediately hearing the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s favorite band playing. Usually, when you visit him at work he stops working and looks up to greet you but right now he didn’t even bother. It’s not like you expect him to always be happy to see you but… but that’s the case most of the time and you’ve gotten very good at reading Jungkook’s emotions. Something is wrong and it’s not hard to tell he’s upset.

“Hey,” you said quietly as you went to sit behind the receptionist’s desk like you usually do when you waited for him, not wanting to bother his work and invade a sanitary space with upside germs. Jungkook just nodded his head in greeting, not bothering to look up even if he really wanted to. He knows that if he acknowledges you any further then he won’t be able to stop himself from asking who you were on the phone with and then it would become a huge

“Mm, careful, I’m sensitive there,” the girl said as he held onto her thigh with his black gloved hand. She was getting a piece on her thigh and it was a popular design. She had flowers going over her hip bone so she had to lay on her side for him to be able to work. He didn’t even bat an eye at her but you, on the other hand, couldn’t help but look up. The noise she let out when she said sounded very close to a moan and you didn’t miss the way she seemed to arch her back further into him as he added shading to a sunflower. Deciding to brush it off, you went back to your phone looking at the messages between you and your friends.

hobi: y/n hurryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy I miss u

you: ew

hobi: bitch?

jiyoung: y/n I miss you too

you: awwww miss u :( I’ll be there soon

hobi: bitch?!?!

taehyung: y/n doesn’t care about us anymore :(

“You’ve got big hands,” the girl said, clearly not caring that you were sitting right there and openly flirting with him, “It’s covering my whole thigh, I like men with big hands.”

Her eyes fell on yours and once again you seemed to such her back making her butt and thighs bend toward him. You couldn’t help but scoff and look back down at your phone.

you: I doooo, I’ll be there soon.

Not even five minutes later the girl made the noise once more and for a second you wondered if she was doing it on purpose, to provoke you or something. Your brows furrowed in thought, having a moment of silence as Ohms ended and Passengers began to play. You even hummed to the song a bit, your boyfriend’s musical tendencies rubbing off on you, and looked back at him. You couldn’t hear him clearly but you could see him mumble something to the girl and for some reason that made her smile. Unable to help yourself this time, you rolled your eyes.

You’re not jealous, you swear.

There’s literally nothing to be jealous about but she’s pissing you off—or maybe you are overthinking it but… Why is she making this feel more intimate? Jungkook was just doing his job and you’re very aware of the fact that he has a lot of attractive clients but for some reason you never really wondered how it was when he and his client were by themselves. How was she acting before you got here and how far would it have gon? Would Jungkook say a little comment to make her blush just because he can, or would she try and flirt with him?

That seriously was pissing you off. You can’t hang out with guys you’ve known for years without him around but he can be alone in an intimate environment with a woman and listen to her basically moan anytime his hand touches her? And what kind of tattoos has he done and how did that go? Maybe a girl wanted a tattoo under her boobs or maybe on her butt and would they act like this too? How is that fair?

Your friends are just friends and his clients are just clients but your friends aren’t moaning and shaking their ass in your face because you would probably hit them over it.

Once Jungkook was finished and the girl was getting dressed again, he came to the desk. You moved out of his way so he could get on the computer and print off whatever aftercare paperwork he had to give the girl and do the payment. She flashed him a smile, “Thanks Jungkook, I’ll make sure to schedule another with you soon.”

Not even a minute after she shit the door behind her was Jungkook already questioning you, “Who were you on the phone with?”

“Tae,” you said watching him finish off whatever he has to do on the computer turned away from you. You could see his side profile and the way his tongue poked against his cheek.

“What did he want?” Jungkook asked leaving the desk to go clean up his work station. You just sighed, “He wanted to know why I wasn’t there yet.”

Jungkook released a scoff as he started to peel off the clear wrap from his side table where he set his ink down, “And you told him you’re waiting for your boyfriend, right? Or do you just forget I exist when you talk to him?”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t start.”

Jungkook stopped what he was doing to look at you, “With what? I can’t talk about how my girlfriend’s best friend is obsessed with her?”

“He’s not, we’re friends and we’ve been friends for a long time so frankly I don’t care how you feel about him,” you argued now.

There was a loud thud when Jungkook angrily pushed his stool against the wall where he normally had it and now he was doing everything aggressively. He was mad because you and Taehyung and Hoseok were close and it was just complete bullshit. You were tired of having this same conversation about who you can and can’t be around according to him.

“And on top of that, if you can do tattoos for girls who moan in your ear every time you touch them then I can hang out with my guy friends when you’re not around,” you decided to finally say. You got up from where you were behind the desk and walked over to him, “You always get mad when I even look at a guy no matter who they are but you could be alone with a half naked girl for work?”

His jaw clenched as he turned to you, “I don’t give a fuck about then and you know it, so don’t compare this to—“

“Fine, I’ll go get a tattoo myself then and I’ll make sure it’s somewhere that requires me to undress for the tattoo artist too,” you huffed as you sat down on his tattoo chair, “Since that’s not a problem but hanging out with my friends without you is.”

He took you by surprise when he released a bitter laugh, “So you’ll go get undressed for another guy to give you a tattoo just because you’re jealous?”

With a roll of your eyes, you stood up, “Fuck you, Jungkook, all you ever do is get jealous but when I’m upset, you just laugh? Fine then, I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think you are, Y/n,” Jungkook grabbed you by the wrist, “We’re gonna talk.”

“I don’t want to talk, I want to go and see my friends whether you’re with me or not,” you said even as you sat back down on the tattoo chair with him at the end of it.

“I don’t care about any of my clients,” Jungkook told you seriously, “And you know that. I care about you, and only you so I don’t get why you feel the need to get upset.”

You sighed in frustration, “Because Jungkook! It’s not fair, I can’t talk to guys whenever you’re not around but you can do tattoos like this when no one’s looking and I just have to be okay with it? I don’t care if it’s work, it’s unfair and complete bullshit.

You tried to ignore his traveling hands as they began to run along your legs, caressing you like he was trying to soothe some of your tension. You shook your leg to get him off but he just let his hands go higher until they were over your knees, “So you want me to stop taking female clients?”

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back with a whine, “No, that’s not what I want. What I want is for you to stop being so controlling of me when you can just go and do whatever you want.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, he only looked at you curiously as you made yourself comfortable on his chair. You were leaned back and your legs were spread apart to make room for him to sit and you were ignoring the way his hands seemed to keep going up until they touched the end of your skirt. He wanted to smile but he knew that would just make you madder but…

But he just knows you. He’s not going to deny that you’re mad, that’s obvious, but are you really mad about how controlling he is or are you jealous of his female clients? When he asked you to come visit him before going to your friends place you said okay. When he made it clear that he didn’t want you hanging out with them alone, you were fine with it. You didn’t have a problem with it but now you’re bringing it up?

“Okay,” Jungkook said calmly, finally letting his hands slip under your skirt, thumbs pulling lightly on your underwear, “I’ll stop doing whatever I want.”

He knew his response annoyed you but you just looked so pretty when you were mad at him. You let out a groan in annoyance but never once stopped his hands, “Jungkook! Instead of saying you’ll stop being controlling you say you won’t do what you wa—“

Your words died in your throat when he leaned forward to capture your lips with his. You hated how quick you were to kiss him back despite the urge to always get away from him. You even lifted your hips enough for him to pull your underwear off and you didn’t even realize you were doing it. Jungkook smiled into the kiss as he let his tongue glide against yours, releasing a low moan from the bottom of his chest and tilted his head to the side to reach better.

With an annoyed whine you pushed him back only for him to trail his kisses down your neck, “You’re so unfair.”

“I am,” he moved down the chair, dragging his stool back as he pulled you lower so your legs were spread for him, panties discarded on the floor, “I just don’t like the idea of sharing you with anyone else.”

He began to kiss the inside of your thigh, “So if my female clients bother you then I’ll be more careful when I book.”

That wasn’t the problem…

Right?

Everytime Jungkook has you like this he just wants to be patient. He wants to ease into it and not rush things but whenever it comes down to actually doing it, he can’t think of anything but getting his hands on you as soon as possible.

A long finger traced the space between your folds, not yet feeling your slick but he knew you were getting there, especially when he just barely brushed against your clit, “I love you.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You just stared into his eyes biting back a moan when his index finger began to rub slow circles into your clit, feeling it twitch with excitement. He didn’t break eye contact as he leaned down to press another kiss against your thigh and repeated, “I love you.”

You bit back your response, thinking of why you were upset in the first place, “Then stop being so possessive and trust me.”

“I trust you,” Jungkook’s head disappeared between your legs, skirt bunched up in a tight fist of his and just as the tip of his tongue swirled around your clit, he was adding, “But no, I don’t trust any other guy around you, you’re too pretty to not fall for.”

Your lips parted in an attempt to say something back but you couldn’t, not when his tongue didn’t shy away from licking a flat stripe between your folds, separating them so he could feel your growing slick and dragging it toward your clit. He curled his tongue against the nub before closing his lips around it and sucking. Your head fell back once again, “You’re ridiculous.”

When you began whimpering he started to become more bold, trying not to smile at the way you reacted to him but it was hard not to. You could fight him all you want but at the end of the day he knows that you’re starting to fall for him just as hard as he fell for you. Sure, it’s taking you a while but he told you he wasn’t going to let you leave him and you’re slowly coming to accept that. Now you’re reciprocating his feelings of jealousy even if you want to say you’re not.

If the problem really was his possessiveness and not the girl from earlier then you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, moaning his name when he sucked your clit swollen before making out with your entrance.

You would be in a cab on the way to visit your friends once you found out he has no intentions of going to Taehyung’s tonight.

You just couldn’t help but grab at his soft hair when he began to suck your left labia between his lips and tugged the sensitive fold out only to lick around it once more. You pulled at his hair, “Jungkook.”

You’re ashamed to admit that you were slowly forgetting about your plans with your friends all because your boyfriend decided to suddenly go down on you. It’s no secret that Jungkook knows exactly what to do with your body and you never deny him the satisfaction of intimacy because he’s just so damn good. It’s embarrassing how quickly you forget things when he’s between your legs.

Jungkook moaned into your wet cunt, fingers digging into your thighs as he dragged your body even lower down the chair, “You’re my favorite taste.”

You looked up at the bright overhead light he used to do tattoos, eyes nearly rolling when he occasionally licked further down your pussy for any fluid that might have trailed too low. He would just lick it back up and swallow your pussy with his mouth all over again. It got to the point where his hair was clearly ruffled from your grip and the way your thighs brushed against his head when you grind into his face but neither of you cared.

“This isn’t right,” you said between moans when his tongue stiffened inside your hole and he wagged it side to side with a light sound of your slick just gushing around him.

He just kept going, hands spreading your thighs and nails digging in almost painfully as you licked your dry lips, clit twitching with arousal and said, “You do tattoos here.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook nodded with his mouth full of pussy, “So mark your territory and cum for me.”

And you hated yourself for doing just that the second the words left his swollen lips. Your thighs tightened around his head either to push him out or pull him in but he stayed put, only wrapping his arms tighter around them so you couldn’t pull away. Jungkook felt his own eyes roll at the sight of your body. It’s like he could physically see the orgasms travel through you in a wave before he finally tasted your release on his tongue that he happily licked up.

It took you a moment to realize Jungkook wasn’t letting up, nose bumping against your clit and holding you so you wouldn’t move back even when you tried to sit up, “No more.”

You words ended in a moan when he sucked on your clit, oversensitivity kicking in and your cunt just tried to push more and more cum out for him to swallow.

“Ugh,” you whined as he finally moved away, tongue swiping against his lips to lick up your release, “Why are you like this?”

He could practically hear the anger dissipating from your tone of voice as he pulled away from your spent pussy. His chin was coated in your release and you didn’t seem to care when you hooked a finger into his silver chains and pulled him toward you by the neck like you tend to do. Jungkook happily followed after your lips, kissing you hard and making you taste yourself on his tongue.

Just as he was going to say something, the familiar sound of your ringtone was heard behind the loud music and you both looked at each other. Jungkook nipped at his lip rings with his front teeth, “They're still waiting.”

You sighed as you sat back. You hated that you didn’t want to go anymore, “I know.”

“So are we going?” He asked fixing your skirt for you as he looked around for your underwear.

When you failed to give a verbal response he looked back at you only for you to shake your head, “I don’t know.”

He had to bite back a smile as he said, “Or we could go home and hang out with Bam and Armani.”

You looked at him up and down, mad at yourself. You were mad at him, you wanted to hang out with your friends and yet he looked so good. He looked so good and inviting and he wore his usual all black but this time with a noticeable bulge in his jeans from eating you out and everything just seemed more fun than hanging out with your friends. You could always hang out with them tomorrow… you have the day off and you’re sure they’ve already assumed you’re not coming and if you do hang out tomorrow then you don’t have to worry about dragged my Jungkook along because he’ll be working when you’re free…

“Let’s go home,” you finally said and he couldn’t help his pleaser smile as he nodded his head and helped you up.

It never failed to make his heart race when you said home. Like he knows it’s your apartment but it’s basically his now too. He’s brought over most of his things without being told to do so and Bam sleeps there every night too so it’s basically both of yours now and last month he even paid the rent fully. He hasn’t told you that he ended his lease early and that in thirty days he’ll fully be living with you from now on but it’s fine. You might be upset when you find out he took it upon himself to make the decision on his own but it’s not like you’ll turn him away, you love him.

“I love you,” Jungkook said as he locked the shop up waiting for you to take his hand in yours so that you could walk to his parked car together.

You laced your fingers together letting him squeeze your hand as you mumbled, “Love you too.”

That made him smile widely as he finally asked, “And if you decide you want a tattoo, who’s gonna do it?”

You rolled your eyes, “You.”

Maybe he’ll convince ou to get his name tatted or a matching flower with him… or maybe he won’t tell you and just start doing the tattoo he wants when you think you’re getting something else.

You’ll probably be mad but once he reassures you that he stopped taking as many female clients then he’s sure you’ll be happy in the end.

::.

for visuals:

nobody asked for more romantic dreams but I’m gonna give it to yall bc idk I like this weird Jungkook 💀anyway for clarification y/n is NOT a bad friend even tho it might look that way. I mean obv she’s ditching her friends for jk but it’s bc she’s giving up on fighting with him and like stated she plans on still hanging out with them without him knowing.

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#jeon jungkook #Jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook request #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook #Jungkook fic #Jungkook fanfic #Jungkook oneshot #Jungkook one shot #yandere jjk #yandere jungkook smut #romantic dreams

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

omg omg omg i can see it now, reader in the hospital hooked up to an ekg and emt!maurauders after dropping someone off sees her in the room and they go in to check on her and her pulse just skyrockets and sirius is like "oh are you still in shock?" and rem is like "...i don't think so" and then they all get so flustered and reader gets flustered and fluffffffff

Thanks for requesting!

part 1 | part 2

cw: hospital, head injury, broken ribs

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

Some of the whiplash you’d been warned about is setting in now. It’s been a few hours since the trio of unreasonably attractive paramedics had dropped you off at the hospital, and you’re stiff and sore all over. Even your knees have developed dark bruises, apparently from hitting the dashboard when you’d stopped suddenly. You don’t remember getting them.

The other doctors and nurses who’d been assigned to your care have been nice and of course highly competent, but no one has been as kind or warm as the men who’d picked you up at the scene. Ridiculous as it is, you almost miss them. There’s nothing comforting about this place, and if you can’t have the familiarity of a loved one with you, you’d happily settle for the strangers’ compassion.

The parade of hospital workers and concerned loved ones going past your room is endless, but you look up from your phone when someone stops abruptly in the doorway.

Sirius lets out a quiet oof when he crashes into James from behind, Rem simply sidestepping the both of them before coming to a stop in front of your room.

“Hey.” James grins at you. “It’s you, from the car crash.”

“Hi.” You return his smile bashfully, and Rem gives James an exasperated look.

“I’m sure she’d rather not be referred to as the girl from the car crash, James.”

“Right.” James' smile goes somewhat sheepish. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “Thanks for…uh, everything. Earlier.”

“You’re very welcome,” Sirius drawls, recovering from his collision and sauntering into the room. He gives you a not-so-subtle look over. “Just doing our job, dollface.”

The monitor connected to your finger starts beeping more rapidly, and the suave confidence saps from his expression.

“Shit, are you still in shock?”

It starts going faster. You’re pretty sure your face is getting red too. How much trouble would you be in if you just disconnected the thing?

“I don’t…” Rem’s eyes narrow, a second before his eyebrows raise an inch. “I don’t think so.”

Your gulp has to be audible.

“Oh,” Sirius says, his brow unfurrowing. He looks at you, and a smile curves his lips. “Oh.”

“Okay, the both of you fuck off.” James comes to your defense, striding over as if to forcibly remove Sirius from your beside. “Look what you’re doing to the poor girl! Remus, you didn’t have to give her away like that.”

“Better than her still being in shock,” Rem—or Remus, apparently—points out.

“It’s fine, darling,” James goes on with forced breeziness. He’s looking at you with such sweetness you’d almost believe his nonchalance if not for the quick way he blabbers on. “Honestly, it’s an unfair advantage for us that you’re the only one with a heart monitor on. Though I suppose I’m lucky I don’t have one on too, or we’d be making a pretty terrible symphony in here right now.”

It takes you a second to catch his meaning, but by the time you do he’s blushing nearly as badly as you.

He’s tossed himself under the bus just so you wouldn’t be down there by yourself.

You don’t know what to say to that, but a quiet thanks slips past your lips unchecked, and for reasons you cannot figure James’ smile softens in response.

“Anytime, love. So, what’re you still doing here?” He changes the subject hastily. “They keeping you for observation or something?”

“No, I’m just waiting for my ride to get off work,” you explain. “What are you doing here?”

Sirius grins, leaning against the wall near your bed. “We work here, babe.”

“No, I—I know that,” you laugh. It hurts your chest, and all three boys’ expressions tense with sympathy when something in your face must reveal it. “I meant, don’t you usually work in the ambulance?”

“We just dropped off another patient,” he says, so preparedly that you suspect he knew what you were really asking the first time. “Older guy, complaining of a stomach ache.” He winks. “No competition for you, sweetness.”

Christ. You’d thought they were bad when they’d picked you up, but it’s worse when you can actually process what they’re saying and doing.

“Is he okay?” you ask, ignoring Sirius’ last comment.

James gives you another one of his soft smiles. “Yeah, he’s alright. We see him like three times a week, he’s always fretting about something. But how are you, sweetheart? They treating you alright in here?”

You shrug. “I’m fine. I have some broken ribs and a concussion, like you said earlier, but I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. And of course everyone has been very nice.”

“Glad to hear it.” Remus’ voice seems soft compared to the other two, though he more matches your volume. He perches next to you on the bed, eyebrows scrunching just a little as he looks at the stitches on your forehead. “Mmm, that’s probably going to scar.”

“I don’t mind,” you say honestly, a second before remembering his own scars. They tug a bit as his eyebrows flick upward again, and then his lips pull into a boyish, lopsided grin.

The monitor goes off again, and you cover your face with your hands as Sirius cackles.

“Sorry, lovely.” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat amused too as his hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing delicately. “We’ll get out of your hair so you can rest.”

“Thank you,” you say into your hands, removing them only once his weight lifts from the bed.

Sirius won’t stop laughing, not looking abashed even when Remus grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him along on his trajectory out of the room.

“Get well,” James says, walking backwards to follow them and giving you a smile that seems to contain, impossibly, equal parts mirth and earnestness. “I’d say I hope to see you around here again, but best not, huh?”

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venxvending · 3 months

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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

I've been having such brain rot for this pairing I had to write it out, and honestly, if ya'll really want me to, I'll make a full fic of this au because GOD DAMN

Anyways..... enjoy 😍

18+ MDNI!!!!!

Pairing- SingleDad!Sukuna x Teacher!Reader (AFAB) TW- Smut, degrading, p in v, exhibitionism? (kinda?), Sukuna being a meanie, Sukuna, public sex Word count: 916

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Imagine- You’re a 5th-grade teacher with this one student who just doesn't know when to stop. He’s constantly disrupting class, trying to start fights, and back-talking you every single time you try and punish him for his misconduct. So, you’re left with no choice but to schedule a parent-teacher conference.

Imagine- You’ve been waiting for 15 minutes, and this kid’s father still hasn't shown up. It’s not like you're shocked. You barely managed to keep his father on the phone for longer than a minute to schedule this damn conference. Not to mention the student’s father was a complete and utter jackass throughout the entire call. With an exasperated sigh, you tapped your nails on your desk, and you were just about to send the kid off to catch a late bus when the door to your classroom opened.

Imagine- The absolute shock on your face when you see what your student’s father looks like. While you have seen your fair share of hot single dads in your line of work, the way this man’s biceps moved underneath his tailored suit made you question throwing away your entire career just to be his cute little housewife. It took everything in you to straighten up and forge a warm smile as he walked over to your neatly decorated desk and took the chair next to his son.

Imagine- When you first hear his sultry and, dare you admit, sexy voice ask, “Why in the hell did you bother calling me here? Isn’t your job to be handling misbehaving 10-year-olds?” your mind immediately snapped away from the inappropriate fantasies of the bedroom. Your dazed expression shifts to one of annoyance as you once again slap on your customary smile and explain to him how much of a little shithead his son has been. You expected many different reactions from Sukuna, but what you didn't expect was for Sukuna’s face to curve up into a sly smirk as he laughed in your face. Your expression dropped as you stared at him dumbfounded. “And how is that my problem? From what it sounds like, the other kid was being the issue.” It took you a few seconds to respond, and when you did, it wasn't in your typical friendly tone. “I’m sorry, what? Your child literally gave him a black eye for not laughing at one of his jokes!” A stunned laugh of your own slipping past your lips. Never once in your years of teaching have you ever dealt with such a disrespectful parent.

Imagine- After a painful hour of arguing back and forth, you and Sukuna finally reached a compromise. And well, it definitely wasn't what you were expecting.

Imagine- The confused expression on your face as you watched Sukuna tell his son to wait outside while handing the kid the keys to his car. You only grew more bewildered as Sukuna slowly pulled off his blazer and stood up from his chair. “Now that the kid is out of the way, how about we settle this like adults… Yeah?” You would be lying if you didn't admit that what he said made you clench your thighs together. The more you thought about it, the more this was starting to look like a porno.

Imagine- The absolute filth that would fall from Sukuna’s mouth as he has you bent over your desk and plowing into you from behind, his fat cock stretching your poor little cunt to its breaking point. Your eyes rolling to the back of your skull every time he slammed into you while groaning out a. “Stupid little slut, can’t even take a punishment. No wonder your students get away with so much shit… Their teacher is a weak little whore.” The sound of his laughter following his comment made your cunt squeeze his thick shaft as he bullied his cock into your pussy once more.

Imagine- How pissed off Sukuna would get at the way your hands are practically nailed to your mouth as you tried to suppress your pathetic whines. You were only trying to spare your dignity as other faculty members could be roaming the halls outside your classroom. Yet, Sukuna wanted to hear you scream his name, and he WANTED people to hear it. You felt his hand grasp your wrist before you felt him rip your hand away from your mouth. “Come on baby, I know you wanna be loud for me. Show me how good this fat cock makes you feel.” You broke right then and there when he whispered that into your ear.

Imagine- The absolute mess that would be made of your desk after he’s through with you. Papers, pencils, and folders were thrown across the floor while the cum that slowly dripped out of your spent cunt stained the wood of the desk. While you rested there, panting, you watched as Sukuna tucked his button-down back into his slacks and fixed his belt. “I’m assuming there’ll be a follow-up conference, hun? Oh, and don't worry, I’ll ensure the kid behaves.” Sukuna snickered with a wink. Before you could even string together a sentence, you watched as he walked out the classroom door, leaving you with cum spilling from your cunt and one hell of a mess to clean. “Like father like son.” You groaned while standing up, your wobbly legs almost causing you to go crashing back down to the floor. Luckily, you caught yourself before you did. “Bastard!” You huffed.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna scenarios #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #anime smut #jjk #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #au #fanfic

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hughesurdaddy43 · 4 months

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Come over

Summary: I'm setting off. But not without my muse

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem reader

Note: IM sorry guys this one is actually so long so I cut it in half so the next part Ill post tomorrow & its gonna kill you

It's been three days since you've last seen Quinn. 72 hours since the two of you shared a kiss. 259,200 seconds of you replaying that moment in your head, over and over again.

Quinn had already left for his away game, and not seeing him in person again after he single handedly took your breath away was driving you crazy.

You sit on your couch, having yet another lazy day after opting out of going into your office today. Your mind is too much in a daze to deal with annoying coworkers who are a little too interested in your friendship with the famous hockey player. With your computer in your lap, you try and focus on an email from your boss that has gone unread for the last four days, and as soon as you start reading the first line, your phone starts to ring.

Quinns name flashes on the screen and you don't hesitate to toss your computer to the side and answer your FaceTime call. He flashes a smile as soon as the call connects. It's dim where he is, and you soon realize that he's on the bus. His under eyes are dark, and his beard is a little more scruffy than usual, but that doesn't stop you from thinking he's still the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on .

"Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?" You ask Quinn, raising your eyebrow at him. It's a mom kind of question, one that you know Ellen would ask if she had seen him awake this late at night after he had played, and won a game.

"Couldn’t sleep," He tells you, and you know it's a lie. His poker face never worked on you. You roll your eyes at him letting him continue. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

Your heart does a backflip, which seems like the only thing it's been doing lately.

"Go for it." You tell him.

Before Quinn responds, you watch as he pulls his headphones off and look off in the distance. He's talking to someone on the other side of the phone, so you take another moment to admire him. The way he listens intently to whoever it is he's talking to you, how his eyes don't look away until he's finished talking.

He makes it easy for you to remember all the reasons you fell in love with him.

"What are you doing right now?" He asks once his attention is back on you. You let out a laugh, pulling your phone closer to your face. "I'm waiting for that question you wanted to ask me." You say in a 'duh' tone.

Quinn laughs, following your own actions and pulling his phone closer to his face. You can't help but stare at his lips, reminiscing how they felt against your own.

"Oh yeah, I'm flying you out to Jersey. To watch me and my brothers play. Well," He pauses, "Just Luke actually, Jack's out with an injury, but mom and Luke would love for you to be there."

"That wasn't a question, Quinn. And what about Jim?" You tease, and Quinn smiles again. "Jim is Jim. So, you'll be there?"

You shrug your shoulders, looking over at your computer that still has the email from your boss on the screen.

"I already bought the flight and the hotel, and it's" Another pause, "10:45 right now. Your flight is tomorrow at 9 in the morning, and you'll get to Jersey some time in the evening. I have a driver picking you up." A final pause, Quinn catches his breath. "It's all taken care of." He says softly.

It's times like this, where you remember Quinn has money. Where he's willing to spend a lot of money for you to be anywhere with him, but with the sweet gesture comes curiosity and you can't help but wonder if he's done things like this for her.

A part of you wants to tell him no. You have your own life in Vancouver. Your job, half-assed plans that you'd already made with your friends, you can't always drop everything for Quinn. But he knows you better than he knows hockey. He knows you'll be there.

"I guess I should start packing then, yeah?" His smile grows wider, "Will you text me when you're boarding?" He asks, and you nod your head 'yes'

The both of you stare at each other through your screens. Silently admiring each other. Secretly acknowledging how easy it is for you two to be together.

Once you hang up, you immediately run to your closet. Most of the items hanging up are Quinns. Hoodies, t-shirts, old jersey and even a couple of suits that he's left after late nights and early mornings. "What's mine is his" You think to yourself. You start throwing in a mix of yours and his clothes.

New Jersey is a cold state, something you'd learned the hard way after a failed trip a few years ago. You'd insisted that you didn't need to bring a winter coat on your trip because you already live in a cold climate, you were used to the cold. Quinn reminded you how you were always cold, and that you'd definitely needed to bring your coat, but like a stubborn child, you'd ignored him. "I'll be fine," You had told him, and instead of arguing, he let you figure it out on your own.

You stare at the winter coat hanging up. The winter coat Quinn had ended up buying you because he had gotten tired of you stealing his.

And it's almost like he's listening to your thoughts, sharing your memory even though he's thousands of miles away, because once your phone dings and you look down at your home screen, you see Quinn has reminded you to make sure to bring your winter coat.

#hockey boys #quinn hughes #hughes brothers #hockey blurb #nhl fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #jack hughes #nhl

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

summary: working in a coffee shop means you always meet a wide variety of personalities; but why, out of all options, did you have to go and take an interest in the mysterious guy with an attitude problem?

pairing: piercer! scara x gn barista! reader

warnings: uhh needles (obviously), cursing like once, reader has questionable nicknaming skills (they're worse than paimon's)

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

It was a typical Monday morning in the coffee shop you were working at, most customers seemingly dragging themselves in after rolling out of bed with the occasional energy ball as an exception. The aroma of roasted coffee beans filled your nose as you worked on several orders and people entered or left the store at a steady rate.

Once rush hour was pretty much over, the doorbell chimed again to reveal a guy with a dark and choppy bob cut you were sure not many people could pull off. The black clothes draped over his silhouette were deliberately torn at some places and a black mask covered the rest of his face except for striking indigo eyes and two gleaming dermal piercings peeking out from under the fabric on his right cheek.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” you greeted, the expected smile already on your lips.

Without so much as a greeting, he said in a monotone voice, “A large black coffee to go.”

Wow, quite the attitude but then again, it was Monday morning and you had seen worse. So, not thinking too much about it, you continued as normal. “May I ask for your name?”

“Huh?”

“To write on your cup, so we can call you when your order is ready to be picked up,” you patiently explained.

In a tone that suggested the guy was bored out of his mind, he merely drawled a “Just write whatever” and went back to scrolling on his phone.

It was a good thing you weren’t holding a cup yet or you might have crumbled it. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Your eyes narrowed as your smile and voice took on an almost unnoticeable edge. “Sure thing,” you replied in a sweet tone before telling him his total.

A few minutes passed after you gave the guy’s order to your coworker who sniggered as you handed them the receipt. While taking more orders, you were keenly aware of that indigo-eyed jerk’s presence lingering by one of the windows, back leaning against the wall and ringed fingers reflecting the morning sun.

Setting a cup down on the counter, your coworker called out “A large black coffee to go for ‘Whatever’!”

At the unusual call, a few other customers turned to see what was happening and the guy himself seemed taken aback for a short second before collecting himself. As he walked up to the counter, he threw you an unimpressed glare which you returned with an innocent shrug.

Despite his grumpy attitude, the guy kept coming back for the next couple of weeks to the point where you could pinpoint the exact time he’d walk through that door, always ordering a large black coffee. He’d yet to give you his name, so when you went to prepare his coffee ahead of time, you continued to write ‘Whatever’ on it.

It might have been your imagination, but you thought Bob-Cut seemed to mellow out more too as he kept coming back and you built somewhat of a routine. He’d actually use words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ which you didn’t think possible the first time you met him. And, much to your chagrin, you had to admit the nonchalant attitude paired with his style and accessories suited him really well and you sometimes had trouble tearing your gaze away from deep pools of lapis. Not that you’d ever make it known to his face though.

Slowly but surely, you started looking forward to seeing him everyday too. Remembering you’d get to see the mysterious - yet cute- guy walk in again made you positively giddy with excitement as you got ready in the morning.

Yet this particular day your enthusiasm was stumped as the prepared cup of black coffee sat lonely behind the counter, waiting to be picked up. But he never came, no matter how often you expectantly looked up as the bell jingled. Your coworker patted you on the back encouragingly and you dragged yourself through your shift, a sunken feeling settling in your chest.

The next day, no coffee sat premade on the counter while you worked on orders. With your back turned to the door you almost didn’t notice it swing open. A gruff ‘Morning’ made your eyes light up before you composed yourself and turned to face the strongest resting bitch face ever.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” You smiled, deciding to play coy although you already knew the answer.

And that was actually the look he gave you; eyes narrowed unimpressed and brow twitching upwards. “Seriously, I don’t come in for a day and you've already forgotten me. That’s a bit harsh, no?”

“Well you never know,” you shrugged playfully. “Maybe you had a change of heart as your coffee was all alone yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. He had nothing to apologise for in your opinion but it was cute anyway. “A client cancelled their appointment on short notice and my coworkers had all the other clients handled, so I didn’t come to the studio in the morning.”

The guy must’ve caught on to the curiosity visible on your face because he followed it up with “I’m a piercer and tattoo artist.”

“Oh wow, really?” you said, remembering your own plans to get a new piercing somewhen soon. Since your last piercer had closed their shop, you had kind of pushed that thought to the back of your mind though. Suddenly you were very much aware again of the ink peeking over the neck of his shirt and the piercings gleaming in the shop light “Where do you work?”

“In the studio down the road. If you don’t believe me, you should drop by,” he challenged defensively, although you didn’t doubt him at all. Realising what he just said, his eyes widened in the first big show of emotion you’d seen from him and you thought you could see a faint rosy tint where his mask ended. “No, I mean– Forget I said anything!”

For the rest of the interaction, the guy kept his head down, bangs obscuring his eyes which never quite met yours. It was cute seeing someone who acted so aloof usually be all shy and bashful and you tugged the info about his workplace away for later. To be precise, for the coming weekend.

On your day off, you found yourself in front of the glass door of a tattoo shop. The pleasant scent of flowers from the shop next to it filled the air as you took a deep breath before you pulled the handle towards you. You chastised yourself for being giddy and letting your hopes get the better of you; for all you know, he might not even work today. Or what if he really didn’t want you here?

Your nerves were forgotten when you entered the studio. Along the walls of the modern entrance area hung a variety of different sketches, distinct both in style and motif. From fine-line flowers to precise geometrics to calligraphy and Japanese style tattoos, you wondered just how many coworkers Bob-Cut had and which sketches were his as you studied the signatures.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” You spun around to face an auburn haired man who had appeared behind the counter, his olive eyes twinkling at your reaction.

“Oh uhm, I wanted to get a new piercing. That’s fine without a scheduled appointment, right?”

“Sure, thing. Just fill out these documents here and tell me what piercing you want and I’ll hook you up with someone who’s not working right now,” he smiled brightly, yet you had the strange sense that mischief was bubbling just underneath the surface.

“Actually,” you couldn’t believe you were about to say this out loud, “is there a piercer working here with an indigo bob cut and two piercings on his cheek?”

“Oh?” And there it was, that teasing lilt in his voice which raised the hairs in the back of your neck. “Yo, ‘mouchie, there’s a cutie here to see you!”

A mere few seconds after his shout reverberated down the short hallway behind the desk, steps could be heard as a familiar raspy voice answered. “If you call me that again, I’ll fucking ki– What are YOU doing here?!”

“Oh, so you really do know each other,” Olive-Eyes snickered.

Deciding to ignore him, you tilted your head at the accusatory finger still pointed in your direction. “You invited me, remember?”

“I told you to forget it!”

“Well, too bad you’re not my boss and I can do what I want,” you snipped. “Besides, I wanted a new piercing anyway, so I decided to come here. Where’s the problem with that?”

The sound of your bickering lured in two more onlookers, a guy with dark blue hair tied into two braids to frame his face and one guy with his teal hair tied into a messy ponytail, who was staring down at his phone as if it was way more interesting than his colleagues.

“What am I hearing? Scara inviting someone over?” The braid-guy sing songed. He mimicked wiping a tear from his eye dramatically. “That I can still witness the day… They grow up so fast.”

“Go to hell, all of you,” ‘Scara’ seethed.

“Alright, see you there.” Teal-Bangs didn’t even look up from his phone, the quip rolling off his tongue as naturally as breathing.

“Wow, even Xiao is bullying you now,” Olive-Eyes chimed in.

Dual-Braids laughed, slinging an arm around Bob-Cut’s shoulders and you feared he might bite it off given the glare he was sending his coworker. “You should really stop hitting him with the newspaper, you know?”

“Uh, guys…?” you interjected before they could start squabbling again. “About that piercing…?”

“Oh right!” The auburn-haired man took the documents from you and gave you a wide smile. “As I said, a piercer who’s free will take care of that aaaaaand would you look at that! Scara happens to be free, so he’ll have the honour of giving you a cool new accessory!”

“Hey, I-” Your coffee shop acquaintance tried to protest but Heizou was already ushering you in his direction.

“Now, go have fun, you two,” he teased. “But not too much, okay?

That was how you found yourself standing in a neat piercing room, bright white light illuminating the equipment stashed there. There was a sigh behind you and ‘Scara’ crossed the room.

“They’re such nuisances,” he mumbled before he fixed his indigo eyes on you. Without his black mask on, you could see that besides the two dermal piercings on his right cheek he also had a nostril on the left side of his nose. As he spoke up again, a silver ball sitting on his tongue reflected the crisp light. “You’re okay with that? I mean, me being your piercer and all. Heizou didn’t give you much of a choice but just know that you can back out if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine by me, if you’re okay with it too,” you sincerely replied. “I mean you were pressured into it just as much.”

“I’m used to their antics though.” After a brief moment of gazing at each other, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to take a seat. “So, what kind of piercing do you want?”

You watched him pull on a pair of black latex gloves and only when he looked back at you did the question register in your brain. “A helix, here,” you said, pointing at your ear.

“Sure thing.” Rolling closer on a chair, he marked the spot you indicated and handed you a mirror. “Like that?”

When you gave your approval, he went back to the desk to prepare the necessary equipment and sterilised it. The silence prompted you to ask the question that has been burning on your tongue for a while now. “So your name is Scara?”

“Scaramouche is my artist name, I’m going by that,” he replied. “But Scara is fine.”

You didn’t have much time to wonder about the implications of using an artist name because a moment later, Scara appeared in front of you again. Needle in hand, his eyes came level with yours again. Up close, you could make out all the tiny specks of amethyst caught in the light and his scent invaded your senses.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his low voice preserving the delicate atmosphere your proximity created. When you nodded, he gave you a small smirk, demeanour entirely changed from how you’d gotten to know him. “Alright, this is going to hurt a little but the pain will be brief. I need you to hold still through it, can you do that for me?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded again as you swallowed. Latex met the side of your jaw in a ghost of a touch as Scara gently tilted your head the way he needed it. All nerve endings in your skin lit up as liquid fire spread from the tips of his fingers through your veins, the strange intimacy getting to you more than you could have prepared for.

You felt the Scara’s exhale brush your cheek as he positioned the needle and your warbled thoughts caught up with the situation the moment he pushed it through. But only when the jewellery followed did you flinch.

“There we go, the worst part is done,” he soothed. Giving the mirror back to you, he left you to admire his work as he got up. The calm call of your name pulled you from your own reflection as Scara held out a glass of water to you.

“Thanks,” you smiled before pausing. “Wait, did I even tell you my name?”

“Read it on your file,” he replied nonchalantly as you gave him an unimpressed glance.

“I’m sure that falls under poor etiquette,” you playfully chastised him.

“So? The outcome is the same, isn’t it?” he shrugged, yet you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “You good to go? C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.”

As you wrapped up the payment and Scara went over all the mandatory steps in taking care of your new piercing, you were well aware of the doors opening and the people peeping into your conversation. So much for privacy.

“Well then, that’s that.” The metal of his tongue piercing held your attention until Scara brushed some of his hair behind his ear, revealing a few piercings of his own. Among them was a helix which mirrored yours in placement. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will, thanks.” Your smile was filled with genuine gratitude. As you pushed through the glass door, you turned back to wave. “See you tomorrow!”

Maybe it was your imagination but as you left you thought there was an actual smile gracing his sharp features.

The next day, your spirits were high as they could be. Not only were you excited to show off your new accessory, you’d also been on cloud nine since leaving the piercing studio, butterflies stirring in your stomach every time you thought back to how he touched you. Perhaps what you were about to do was a little bold but you’d be damned if you didn’t shoot your shot.

As expected, Scara came in at the same time as every morning and you’d just finished brewing his coffee. He too seemed to be in a better mood than usual as he walked up to the counter. While you typed in his order, you made a bit of small talk over how your piercing was healing.

“It’s all good,” you laughed and showed the jewellery to him. “Almost like my piercer knew what he was doing.”

“You better believe that,” he countered. However, you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemingly lit up and crinkled at the edges, as they did when he smirked, when his gaze fell onto the piercing he put on you. His reaction gave you a boost of confidence for what you were about to do.

Handing him his cup, you wished him a great day and watched as he went to leave before stopping dead in his tracks. No doubt he discovered the little ‘If you ever feel like going for a coffee while I’m not working ♡ (and don’t whatever me!)’ you had scribbled onto the cup holder, followed by your phone number. You gave him a wink when he searched your eyes and watched him pull out his phone. A few seconds later your phone pinged.

Unknown number: whatever Unknown number: are you free this week?

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scara x reader #scara fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #genshin modern au

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julsvu · 1 month

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heyy u take reqs for mha, right? if so, can i request for a monoma x gen neutral reader? reader's in class 1A and is close with all their classmates, but is secretly dating monoma. it's basically the trope 'enemies in public, but lovers in private' but class 1A and class 1B end up finding out about their relationship and lose their minds LMAO

gn! reader

💬: tysm for requesting!! this was so fun to write HSSIDI hope you enjoy !! <33

📒: crack fic kind of??, swearing, written in 2nd pov, monoma is the leader of the sassy man apocalypse, headcanons + a oneshot under the cut :>

being neito monoma's secret lover hcs

during the school festival, neito literally suggested for his class to do a plot where two people would play as secret lovers from different kingdoms that hated each other (he was projecting TEWW MUCH)

one time class 1B was playing truth or dare and he got asked if he was single or not, and this mf said: "my partner goes to a different school! 🙄🙄🙄" bc he couldn't think of any other lie

obviously, everyone poked fun at him

"monoma, y'know being single isn't embarrassing, right..?"

"you can tell us the truth, y'know.."

i feel like kendo probably suspected it at one point

since she saw the way monoma kept investigating your classmates about the villain attacks (as a way of finding out if you're okay or not)

and because his insults towards you was like..so much more detailed compared to your other classmates?? like bro knew EVERY little detail about you, even the details that no one in class 1A knew

she brushed it off though, cause you and neito always argued — there was no way, right? (yes, there was a way)

he claims that class 1A "shines" too much because of you (as a way of hiding the fact that you're the one who he actually pays attention to)

when he approaches class 1A to make fun of them, he actually does it so he can see you (when he sees that you aren't with them, he just scoffs after insulting them, and walks away) (born from the sassy man apocalypse)

your classmates.. i think some of them def knew that you were dating someone, but NOBODY could predict the fact that you'd be dating neito, class 1A's biggest hater, some of your classmates were like "🤨 is this a betrayal or.." 😭😭 goes the same for class 1B, because as said earlier, his insults toward you were so much more..detailed, they thought he hated you more than the others ☠️☠️

they found out when they caught you both dancing together during a U.A high school party

"MY JAW.. WHERE'S MY JAW?" - denki when he found out (one second away from going into his "yay mode")

and u have mina in the corner saying that it's like one of those dramatic secret relationship fanfics (which in this case, it is)

for as long as neito monoma remembered, his heart was full of you. almost like the honey of a beehive, slowly overflowing and dropping to the floor. although, he swears that you're sweeter than honey itself. or, at least, that's how it felt. it started with small, short glances, secret hangouts at a small cafe, texting every day, training with each other, bittersweet confessions, and secret good-luck kisses.

but, for as long as class 1B and class 1A (excluding you) knew, neito and you were enemies, rivals, foes, maybe even nemeses. there was only so much your schoolmates could know, though. U.A's rigid course aided you and your boyfriend in keeping your relationship under warp, people failed to notice the longing stare the blond boy would hold whenever he saw you training with what he described to be "tetsutetsu's twin" from class 1A, the slight tone of pride whenever you'd counter an insult of his with your own words, acting like it wasn't your love language reserved for only each other; sneaking away from your respective dorms to meet each other in the ungodly hours of the night, exchanging sweetened words.

you waited on the bus with your classmates, the vehicle bustling with excited conversations; mina and the girls fangirling over each other's outfits, kaminari asking the "are we there yet?" question every five minutes, iida struggling to keep your classmates quiet, and so on. as you fixed your appearance slightly, you checked the time on your watch, reading that it was now 8:00 PM. however, a certain blond texted you, interrupting your moment of silence.

"darling, we have arrived at the venue. where are you?" monoma texts, with a stunning picture of the venue sent under his text. the dim fairy lights hung around the place, the food table with a chocolate fountain and appetizers, and the chandelier that would highlight the bodies of the people dancing.

just as you finished reading his message, you heard your homeroom teacher state that you guys had arrived. almost immediately, everyone cheered, giggling, and rushed out of the bus, exploring the venue after a few reminders from Mr. Aizawa to not get lost, and to behave. you dusted off your clothing, as you looked around for your boyfriend, neito, before you finally messaged him back.

"i'm at the entrance, neito," and not even five minutes later, you heard the only voice that could make your chest feel warm. neito's.

"hey, pretty," you greet, sending him an awkward wink.

he scoffs, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "hello yourself, sweetheart."

"shall we dance?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you give him a nod, as well as a chuckle. he had the tendency to make things as "theatrical" as possible. you were reminded of the time when you guys reenacted an old classical dance on a random rooftop, with no one else around.

a few moments later, the U.A high school party was in full swing, the pulsating beat of the music reverberating through the crowded gymnasium. amidst the sea of bodies, you and your blond boyfriend were drowning in the rhythm, dancing together in the dim atmosphere.

however, the dim atmosphere wasn't enough to hide you and your boyfriend, as well as your secret relationship.

kaminari spat out his drink from a few meters away. he, and mina were hanging out in the food table. "is that (name) and monoma?! the guy that hates us all?!" his jaw drops right after his statement, as he nudged the pink-haired girl beside him. the girl's eyes widen, before she squeals happily, "it's like a forbidden romance! eek!"

in the other side, there was tetsutetsu and kirishima. "yo, that's monoma/(name), your classmate!" they said to each other at the same time, and same speed.

you and neito exchanged a knowing glance, overhearing your classmates' reactions.

"monoma, did you force (name) to dance with you?!" kendo exclaimed, looking at her classmate with furrowed brows, and holding empathy for you. your laugh started off as small snickers, and then to a full-blown laugh, as you fell to your knees, giggling and holding your stomach. in the background was your boyfriend explaining, waving his hands as if to defend himself.

"you and monoma?" mina asks with a grin, behind her, were your classmates, who stopped to hear your answer. flies were about to fly into their mouths, at this rate.

"me and monoma," you replied, chuckling at the whole ordeal.

the situation made the night more entertaining than ever.

#monoma neito x reader #monoma neito x you #monoma neito #monoma neito x y/n #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #monoma x reader #neito x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fluff

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vinelark · 3 months

Note

Thinking about bbs au where Tim talked first.

Tim: so I'm robin

Kon: I'm sorry bu- wait what?

Tim: I'm robin

Tim: what were you going to say?

Kon processing the guy he made out with yesterday is also the teammate he just realised he has a crush on an hour ago and that he was just about to break it off with the guy he made out to ask his crush out so was about to break up with and then immediately ask out the same person: ...nothing.

in the au where tim spoke first, kon’s brain would go static for a very long stretch of seconds and he would vaguely consider that he was being pranked (tim somehow? figured out kon’s feelings for robin before kon did and is pulling some sort of? joke??) and tim would be like [fond sigh] you like pineapple on your pizza and you and bart are currently tied in your competition to see who can sneak attack me in uniform and the shampoo at the Tower always makes your hair extra fluffy which you only pretend to hate and also— [launches himself right at kon to springboard off kon’s shoulder in a patented robin battle-and-also-reaching-tall-cupboards move]

kon: [automatically catching him] okay okay OKAY just hold on i’m—

tim: [settling on kon’s shoulder] sure, yeah, take your time

kon: shut up i’m—you’re—the whole time?

tim: unless you think i’m some sort of shapeshifter—

kon: obviously i know you’re not a—are you. a shapeshifter

tim: if i were a shapeshifter i would’ve shapeshifted myself taller than bart by now

kon: fair enough. okay. so you. so i. so we.

tim: [nodding] getting there

kon: so that’s why you were so weird around nightwing

tim: okay, he deserved it

kon: oh my god, i yelled at superman about you. in front of batman and nightwing.

tim: ah. about that…

kon: and that’s how you’re friends with red hood—

tim: mm, i don’t know if i’d go that far

kon: and why superman was so stressed out when you were kidnapped—holy shit. and—

tim: listen i promise you can ask all the questions you want and i’ll be so very thorough and honest about it but if you’re not mad at me—

kon: i’m not mad, i’m processing

tim: okay great. do you want to maybe make out more while you process

kon:

tim:

kon: yeah that sounds good

#he’ll make the bruce wayne connection later #i’ve already made myself laugh with that specific realization in the draft doc #asks #my fic #timkon

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

Text

is it too much to ask | quinn hughes x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: missing q when he's on the road! based off the song, "is it too much to ask" by faye webster.

word count: 1.2k

I’ve been waiting for so long

Waiting for you

Maybe you’ll give up and come home

I just want you

you felt a little childish counting down the days till your boyfriend would be back from his roadie. but really, who could blame you? It seemed that recently, with the canucks winning streak and Quinn's captaincy, you’ve seen less and less of your loving boyfriend.

“Quinn!” you smiled at your grinning boyfriend once the facetime call connected. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting ready to get down to the rink” he replied, throwing his tie over one of his shoulders and using his other hand to pull it around his neck.

Quinn adjusted his tie, and you watch on in silence as he gets himself dressed. his belt comes next, and you stare as he stepped back and adjusted the long piece of leather to his body.

“you’re being quiet,” Quinn mumbled, still too caught up with what he was doing to glance back at his phone.

you hummed softly. “just admiring you”

Quinn laughed, that carefree ringing sound that reminds you of those endless summer days on the lake. “you’re cute”

when Quinn finally looked up at you, you felt as if you’ve been caught doing something inappropriate. heat nips at your cheeks, and you look away to the stove to distract yourself from his gaze.

“you look really pretty today,” Quinn continued, missing the redness of your cheeks.

you looked back towards your phone and you can’t help but smile at your boyfriend. “you look really hot! I can't wait to see the HD photos,” you joked. after the walk in photos were posted to the canucks twitter, you would send them to Quinn and comment on how attractive he looked. Quinn liked that a lot.

Quinn chuckled before leaning forward and clicking on his phone to check the time. he deflated upon seeing the little numbers on his screen, letting you know that your short call would have to end soon.

“i’ve gotta get down to the bus,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes scanned his messy hotel room.

“okay, well good luck! I’ll see you later?”

Quinn hummed as he stood up from his hotel chair. he held the phone in a low angle and blew a kiss to you through the screen. “Yup, i'll text or call after the game” Quinn said, moving around his room and throwing various things around in an attempt to find something.

“Your airpods are right there,” you hear Elias mumble in the background.

Quinn moves again, and without a second thought turns to you before uttering a quick, “love you!”

“I love you too!” you respond, and then the call abruptly fades into black.

after the call ended, you trudge over to your and Quinns couch and switch the tv on so you were prepared for when his game started.

you sit around and wait for the game to start, wishing for nothing more than to spend some time with your boyfriend. you knew captaincy was going to include a lot more responsibilities, but the distance combined with the extra hours at the rink… you just wanted your boyfriend back at home. whenever those thoughts of wanting Quinn to quit and come home to you flooded your mind, guilt would wash over you. hockey was his dream, and in a dream world you would be able to spend a little bit more time together.

All these letters that you wrote

They remind me

You’re not far when you leave home

That’s the best part

as usual, after the game Quinn sent you messages and little voice notes telling you all sorts of things.

Quinn (voicenote) okay, so basically I was handling the puck, I don't know if you watched this part? But like anyway i’m lining up the shot-

a lot of the time it was Quinns narrations of the game he just played. you would lay in bed and listen to his warm voice explain all the intricacies of his and his teammates plays despite having witnessed it all go down on your screen.

when the voice notes end and you find yourself staring at your dark ceiling, you’d move onto reading the messages he’d send you throughout the day.

Quinn: The sunset reminds me of you

Quinn sent one image

Quinn: I love you! Sleep well❤️

Quinn: i’ll call you in the morning

Then you’d scroll through old text messages. Brief declarations of love, lots of missing yous, and tens of pictures taken of mundane things that litter both of your everyday lives.

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

“you're back!” you squeal the next morning, lifting yourself up off the couch and into Quinn's awaiting arms. you snuggle in close, choosing to rest your head in the crook of his neck. you can feel Quinn's wide grin against the side of your neck and you giggle when you feel his lips tickling open mouth kisses all along your skin.

“we got in earlier than expected,” Quinn replied, lips still hovered over your skin.

you hummed, “well send my compliments to the pilots”

Quinn kissed your shoulder again, before pulling you into a tight hug. “I missed you,” he sighed.

“I missed you more,” you replied easily, thinking back to all your late nights spent watching the latest of Quinns interviews. in all honestly, you were practically a twitter stan when it came to your boyfriend.

“Bath?”

You nod, “i’ll start running the water”

five minutes later you sit on the edge of the tub, hand dipped into the scorching water as you listen to the sweet sounds of Quinn trudging and stomping through the apartment. he had never quite learnt how to walk quietly, but you couldn’t say you minded how loud his presence was.

It’s the road that takes you away

That's the worst part

‘Cause once it takes you, makes you stay

There's no way out

you knew that this was just one of many days off, and that in two week’s time he would be gone again. you’d lay alone in bed, replaying voice memos and rereading texts as you usually do.

“what are you thinking so hard about?” Quinns soft voice makes you smile. you shift from your place in bed, looping one of your legs over Quinns and pulling yourself closer to him.

“just you,”

Quinn nodded. “atta girl” he teases, lacing his fingers through yours.

you detach your hand from Quinns and rest your palm against his cheek. you brush at his hair, and you let your hand wander down his face as you start tracing circles onto his jawline.

“i love you,” quinn sighed. his eyes are closed now, fully enjoying your light massages and all of your attention.

“i love you,” you whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

that night, laying in bed wrapped up with Quinn made you realize once again that it was all worth it. even though you desperately wanted to spend all your time with your person, reunions like this were always worth it.

for the next few weeks you’d bask in the light of his company, and then you’d repeat the process a hundred times over. because in the end, he was worth it every time.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

❥bad idea (m)

↳ stuck in a vacation home with nobody but the most annoying man in your friend group, there’s not a lot offered to help take the edge off.

a couple of glasses of wine and a crazy idea might, though.

lee minho x fem!reader — enemies to lovers (kinda), explicit sexual content. [3.6k wc] cws: alcohol consumption. sexual cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), oral sex (m), facial, hair pulling, hatefuck (hardly cuz he’s kinda sweet), praise, dirty talk.

The saying is that “bad things come in threes.”

So, when your bus arrives and leaves all of five minutes before you get there, forcing you to rebook a ticket and wait an hour and a half in the cold, windy weather for the next — that’s one. At the time, not something you spend much thought on, it happens.

And when your friend calls you to inform you that the weather is so bad coming from her side of town that she and the car load of friends meant to accompany you at the rental home for the weekend getaway won’t be arriving until some time tomorrow morning — there’s the second. It’s not the end of the world, you think to yourself, as she explains that she’s already contacted the rental host and changed the name of the reservation into yours so that you’re able to get inside safe and sound — after all, there are worse things than having a whole, lavish, five bedroom, three bathroom house to yourself for a night.

The ‘worse things,’ of course, being the third and final 'bad,’ as it were — hauling your bags up the brown and grey cobble stone walkway and close enough to the front porch for the motion sensor lights to finally illuminate — frankly, you’d have been happier to find a stranger, and you’re already wondering if there are any axe murderers mulling about these parts that you could contact straight away, perhaps their schedules are free and could do you a solid.

“Not you—“

You’re unsurprised that he’s the first to speak, and to say something irritating at that. Hair slightly damp and windswept, it looks as though he’s been standing out in the elements and against the door for far too long — a thought that brings you much delight; the misery of one Lee Minho.

It’s not that he’s ever done anything particularly wrong, not to you, or to your other friends, which is why he remains inside of the friend group, but some people simply don’t click, and the two of you are certainly evidence of that — between snide remarks in relation to any innocent going on, and Minho’s insistence on having something to say about everything you say or do, the last person you’d have wanted to meet here tonight without the buffer of the other handful of people, was him.

But here he is.

Slinging a bag up and over your shoulder with a huff, you toss the keys to the front door at him with a tad bit of aggression — the act brings a curl to one side of his mouth, as if enjoying the annoyance he’s already brought into your life.

“Didn’t know anyone else was here, I just got off the phone with them, won’t be in until tomorrow.”

“Bummer,” Minho sighs, turning the key into the lock and pressing the door open at the clicking sound. “Guess you’ll just have to make me dinner tonight, then.”

“Stooping down to sexism now, are we? Ol’ run of the mill being an annoyance not enough for you anymore?” you chime out as you walk past him and inside, kicking your shoes off and carrying forward with your belongings.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you being a woman, you psycho,” he rings back. “You’re the only other person here. Other people can make me dinner, too.”

“I’m sure they’re all fighting for the chance to.”

“Anyway,” Minho ignores you to instead toss his things to the closest doorway that appears to lead into a bedroom. “We do have to eat.”

“And I will, mind your business,” you answer, voice now echoing down the hall and throughout the otherwise empty home — tall ceilings carrying the sound much further than it would otherwise. you find a room that seems suitable enough despite them all appearing more or less the same and chuck your bag onto the bed inside before coming back out and resting eyes on the bizarre sight before you now. “You’re not going to look at the other rooms?”

“They’re all just empty rooms with beds what difference does it make — now who’s not minding their business!”

Rolling your eyes, you opt out of giving him any more of your verbal time, stepping towards and into the open layout kitchen — a lavish display that no doubt has cost millions in the renovations, you jostle open the refrigerator door in hopes to find something that may sustain you as far as intake goes — original plan having been that as a group you would all head back into town and go grocery shopping, but with that now off the table, it’s up to you and Minho to figure it out until morning.

Glancing back towards Minho’s poorly chosen bedroom, you watch him unpack boring t-shirts and clear, plastic bags of skincare items. You think to yourself how annoying to find it, before immediately following up the line of thought with how completely normal it is and that you only find it annoying because it’s him.

But self-awareness if half of the battle, after all.

“They got cheese, some condiments—“ you look around yourself again in an attempt to locate more items that might allow for you to put together an actually reasonable food source as you talk through it. “—Some bread it looks like, some deli meats…I mean, assuming all of this is still good I think we can at least get by on some dinner sandwiches.”

Minho doesn’t answer back, something else you find irritating. You’re talking to him, after all.

Then, your eyes lock onto something else hidden further back into the cold and mostly empty container. “Oh, looks like there’s a bottle of cheap white wine in here, too. There’s that.”

“Finally, some good news!” Minho finally replies. Of course, it’s the alcohol that does it.

When “dinner” concludes, the two of you shake on trying to be normal human beings to one another for the remainder of the evening, even going as far as to exchange a few testing chuckles over half eaten sandwiches.

But with the last bit of wine poured into both of your glasses, and downed just as quickly as it had appeared there, that’s when the real trouble starts.

Naturally.

A bottle between two, hardly enough to get either of you drunk but enough to make the head a little fuzzy, and the people a little flirtier than usual, when Minho leans an elbow onto the table and leans in closer towards you — you don’t hate it, not as much as you might usually. Where your normal instinct would be to immediately pull back and away from him, scoff, laugh off the intrusion of personal space — now, now you find it to be borderline welcomed.

“Why are you such a bitch to me, anyway?”

Well, there goes that.

You roll your eyes right in front of him, eager to turn your head away but it’s a strong hand that cups at your chin and brings you right back to his eye sight. And again — in most cases, a man putting his hands on you in such a way would not be accepted and would likely result in a hospital trip for him and him alone, but tonight, things are a little different.

Minho is no stranger, nor is he any danger to you. He’s pretty fucking irritating at worst —

But have you considered the hatefuck? Absolutely.

“Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you!”

The words come out of him in a chuckle, as if the both of you are well aware that this is a game and not any serious act of violence. You laugh along with him, pressing the tip of your tongue out just a bit to tease him and how upset over nothing he’s getting.

“You’re kinda handsome when you’re trying to act all tough and brooding,” you tease, tugging your face from his grip with little effort required. You watch the way Minho’s eyebrows pull upwards at the words, as if intrigued by the confession.

“Oh, is that so?” he asks, almost sing-song in manner. “Is that why you’re so mean to me? You want me so bad? Want me to fuck you into this dining room table? Will that fix you?”

Minho is already standing up next to you and unbuckling his belt — it’s obviously a humorous display, the two of you bantering and joking about, but you’d be lying if the thought wasn’t running through your mind currently, now that he’s put it out there.

Is that an option?

“Why would we fuck on the table? There’s plenty of beds in here,” you reply dryly, now testing how far you can flirt with this idea before he rescinds it. Or you get dicked down into next Tuesday, either/or.

And you watch as Minho stills finally, perhaps much slower on the uptake than you would have ever expected him to be. Busy hands that once playfully tugged at his belt and pant button now pausing at the realization that you might actually be coming onto him, and not simply playing with him to pass the time. Eyes dropping down to meet yours as you stare up at him, still seated at the table next to — it’s that familiar curl of the the lip once again, devilish and sly — that let’s you know he’s finally getting what you’re serving.

“Get up.”

The words come out sort of quietly, a little under his breath, as if also testing the waters of the situation — a demand that the both of you are aware of not having to go along with, that you can simply tell him 'no’ and it calls off everything that has otherwise been built up towards this moment.

But instead, you choose to do as told, and just as quickly Minho wraps a hand around your arm and yanks you out of the kitchen and down the hall — towards a bedroom, any bedroom.

Finally settling on one based on what you can only assume to be pure luck, it’s just as quickly that Minho has your back flush against it with teeth and lips hard against your own — it’s aggressive, a little rough — perhaps filled with years of pining that otherwise only found an outlet in being petty and childish towards you in the most ridiculous, unnecessary, ways.

But for now, who cares?

“Can you at least get me into the bedroom?” you ask between energetic kisses, the request brings him to grin into your mouth.

“Of course, darling, how rude of me,” you feel him reach down and behind you for the doorknob, twisting and pushing it as the both of you fall towards the newly emptied space behind you. “Well would you look at that — there’s only one bed, what will we do now?”

You can hear in his voice that it’s a sarcastic reference to the popular trope, because quite obviously given the circumstances, one bed is plenty for the activities that you’re about to engage in — but taking it a step further, Minho presses a hand to the back of your neck and urges you towards the edge of the bed, bending you onto your knees and over the side of it. “Any other fun little tropes we can play with tonight?”

“You want to roleplay on our first time?” you laugh, finding the idea of it a little endearing.

“If you want me to fuck you missionary with the lights off I’m more than happy to oblige that, as well.”

“Yuck,” you answer quickly. “Enemies to lovers? Seems apt.”

You can’t see his face given your position, but you can hear it in the way his oh sounds out, as if you’re a total genius and it’s the best idea he’s ever heard in his entire life. Squeezing ever so slightly onto the back of your neck, Minho leans down and over your back towards your ear. “So, you want me to hatefuck you then?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

The juxtaposition in relation to the negotiation of terms, as it were, and the sex you’re hoping to engage in that evening making you laugh a bit internally, it’s not long at all before Minho flips you over and onto your back, roughly pulling at the button of your pants and wasting no time pulling the fabric down your legs — tossing it aside and remembering that his own pants remain long undone from the joking just earlier in the kitchen, you watch as he palms himself through his boxer briefs as he allows his jeans to drop further down and expose more of himself to you — eyes lidded and heavy with lust, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he might actually hate you in that moment.

And in spite of everything, you truly do feel safe with him. Besides, if anything goes wrong he’ll be a dead man in the morning, anyways.

“Anything I can’t do, like, in particular?” he asks suddenly, still lazily touching himself for your viewing pleasure as you hastily take the moment to pull your shirt up and over your head.

“Umm, don’t hit me, don’t call me mean names—“

“Holy shit, I wouldn’t do that if you asked me to, this is the first time we’re having sex!”

“Okay well you asked! I don’t know!

“Alright lemmie think,” Minho says, finally pulling his length out from it’s confines. You sit up upon it’s reveal, already wanting to put your mouth on him before he even requests it. “Suck me off? I’ll think of some stuff…hopefully.”

But you’re already up and with an eager hand wrapped around him, gently pumping him just in front of your face as he gazes down at the sight — tongue out and pressed to the underside of him, Minho’s eyes roll back only to pull tightly shut at the feeling of your hot mouth enveloping him whole.

“God, okay, can I cum on your face?”

You pull off only long enough to answer. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, sold. God, it’s kind of hard to hate you when you’ve got your mouth on my dick like that.”

And so you pull off of him entirely, lying back down again and with legs spread wide, as if presenting yourself for him to fuck. “Then, fuck me like you’re mad that I don’t anymore.”

“Fuck,” he says suddenly, looking around the room as if for something but quite evidently not going to find what it was that he would be looking for. “I don’t have condoms.”

“I don’t care, oh my God, just fuck me already.”

“Are you sure?”

Darting a hand up and into his t-shirt finally to bring him down and on top of you, it’s no time wasted between his hands catching himself on the mattress just next to your head and you reaching down to rub his cock again, pressing the tip of him against your pussy as if to entice him even further — insist that he stop thinking and talking and start fucking.

“Are you gonna fuck me or are you gonna continue being as worthless as I always thought you were?”

What you didn’t expect, was for it to be that easy. Minho’s hand sliding up the bed and entangling into your hair, a hard grip into your scalp as he takes it upon himself to press his hips forward and bury his thick cock into you — it’s not all in one fluid motion, two, three shallow pushes and pulls before he’s completely and fully inside of you but he gives you little time to adjust to accommodate his girth before he’s rocking against the apex of your thighs — teeth gritted and head dropping down into the juncture between your shoulder and your neck — it’s the groans and growls escaping him that really do a number on your want for him, paired of course with the intense drag of him against your unprepared walls.

“Feel worthless now?” he asks against the skin of your neck before latching teeth there, biting and sucking into the skin with intent to leave bruises. Whimpers and moans falling from your own mouth at the feeling, along with the intensity in which his pounding into you grows — your throat feels dry, words caught somewhere in between their origin and destination at the question. “Can’t even talk, like my cock that much? You wanted it all this time that’s why you’re like that?”

You decide to play along, nodding as much as his grip into your hair permits as he chuckles against the skin at the admission. “Why don’t you be good for me and rub yourself off a bit, if you come pretty enough on my cock I’ll consider painting your face with mine.”

And you’ve always known Minho’s had a mouth on him, that much is no surprise, but this filthy is coming as quite one, and in the best kind of way — the words immediately pooling between your legs, walls firmly closing in against him as he fucks you hard, fast and with intent.

Minho pulls up and off your body, letting free your hair and allowing you the range of motion to bring a hand down between the both of you to circle fingers into your clit as he settles on his knees — hands bracing on your waist as he fucks you further — less momentum in his hips and more in his arms as he effectively pulls your body down and onto his cock, you have full view of the way the veins and muscles in his arms flex and move with every motion — the way his eyes lock onto the exact place where he disappears into your cunt repeatedly for extended periods of time, before eventually looking back up and making eye contact with you in a sort of way that almost silently asks if everything is still going okay on your end, but with orgasm threatening you, you couldn’t answer him verbally right away had you even tried.

“Look so pretty, like touching yourself with my dick in you?”

You nod pathetically, the dirty talk still doing you in just as before and the familiar quake of your thighs sneaking up on you.

“Yeah, I can feel it, bet this isn’t the first time you’re going to come to me, either.”

Good guess.

“F-fuck, Minho, I'm—“

“Close?” he asks, but it’s less in character than before, as if genuinely concerned about being able to get you over the edge. You nod again.

“Don’t stop, please, please, don't—“

Taking the command, he carries on and into you, shutting up long enough to focus on the task at hand as he watches your body tighten and shake beneath him with the promise of release — it doesn’t take you much longer to get there, either — teeth and eyes clenched together hard as your orgasm rips through you.

“Yeah baby, yeah come for me, you sound perfect—“

But you’re barely even able to process the words before Minho pulls out of you suddenly — and probably too close for comfort, but given his desire to fuck you through your own orgasm as much as possible taking it upon himself to trust his own judgment — you feel a familiar hand dipping down and into your hair again, pulling you into a sitting position at the end of it with Minho fisting his cock fast and just in front of your face. Jaw hanging slack and tongue out, you take the tip of him — wet with you and precum between your lips as you gaze up at him.

“So obsessed with having my cock all this time, could have just asked, but I’ll give you what you deserve, you earned it.”

He barely gets the whole sentence out before he’s pulling from your mouth and groaning loud into the first rope of cum that empties from him and onto your face — your thankful for the choice to have your eyes closed as the feeling of warm, wetness splashes across your eye and cheek, followed by another, strong string, and slowly finished by the gentle pooling of his cum against your lips and chin as he drags his cock across your skin to make a mess of the job already done.

Chest heaving, you open your one available eye to watch Minho as he slings his t-shirt off, bringing it to your face and gently attempting to wipe away the mess he only just made there. You giggle at him, appreciating it but shortly thereafter taking the fabric into your own hands to do the job yourself.

Kneeling down in front of you, the man looks at you from between your knees and with bright, wide eyes — like a puppy dog expecting praise for doing a good job. “So? How was it?”

“You’re kind of a lousy hatefuck, I’ll be honest,” you laugh, handing him back his cum-soaked shirt and realizing you’ll have to elaborate based on his dropping expression. “What I mean is, you were kind of nice about it, don’t you think? The praise?”

Minho scoffs, but in a way that you know that he knows that what you’re saying is the truth, coyly crossing his arms over his now bare chest and huffing as he makes a display of looking away from you. “It’s the first time and we barely got to discuss anything! What am I supposed to do? Put you in a choke hold and call you a slut? You said no mean names!”

Thinking about it for a moment, you figure he’s probably right, and it generally best to err on the side of caution, but it certainly does present itself to a flurry of other potentials in the future.

“Well, we’ve got all night.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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