#i decided i wanted to switch a group out </3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nctsworld · 1 year

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fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #yn brainrot

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alexiroflife · 3 months

Text

"red"

MDNI, very suggestive content

satoru gojo x singer!reader

Synopsis: utahime brings satoru and shoko to a bar to watch her friend perform, and satoru is immediately whipped for you the moment you step on stage. utahime warns him, however, not to get close to you, but how could he refuse the way you look at him?

to sum it up: you have a strong effect on men, satoru included, and despite the stories utahime tells him about you, you match other's freak

WC: 15,482

Warning(s): smut smut smut, unprotected sex, dom/switch, vulgar language,

happy 500 followers!! thank you all so much for your love and support, you're all amazing. i can't believe there are already half a thousand of you. here is my gift to you and i hope you enjoy <3

The moment Utahime proposed going out to see her friend perform at a grungy bar smack in the middle of the city, Satoru was incredibly skeptical. Normally, the white haired sorcerer was left in charge of staff outings since, according to him, he had the most creativity out of the group of professors that trekked out into the late night after long, grueling weeks of training their students.

It was a good thing he took charge of their activities, too, since everyone else’s suggestions were always so boring. Nanami’s idea of an entertaining night out wasn’t even to actually go out, but to stay indoors with a cup of tea and a newspaper cracked open over his lap. Yaga tended to lean toward artistic outings, such as pottery barns or knitting classes, solely due to the bias of his cursed technique. Ichiji hardly ever even made any suggestions himself, often allowing other opinions to overpower his own to the point where he didn’t even want to bother chiming in. Shoko only really wanted to visit anywhere that allowed her to drink and smoke, so she wasn’t much of a problem. And Mei Mei, well, Satoru hardly knew what the hell motivated Mei Mei’s interests aside from some means to winning money, and he was never too keen on allowing her rather questionable interests to lead the group out.

While everyone liked to complain when Satoru dragged them along to engage in the things he wanted to do, they normally all ended up enjoying themselves by the time the night was over. Even Utahime, who would have stepped freely into oncoming traffic before admitting that Satoru’s suggestion that she would initially turn her nose up at the beginning of the night brought a smile to her face by the middle of the evening. He had a knack for these kinds of things, bringing his colleagues together socially in the best ways he deemed how.

Nevertheless, the indigo haired woman pushed her luck enough to finally let Satoru relent his control for one single evening when she groaned on and on about how she refused to miss the performance of some woman she hadn’t even bothered to mention until now. Satoru only did so for the sake of gloating purposes in case this so-called friend of hers turned out to be far less engaging than Utahime claimed. He determined that she wouldn’t hear the end of it for as long as the two of them kept in contact from this night going forward.

Tonight, the group had narrowed down to a select few as well. Mei Mei thankfully had duties to attend to elsewhere, Ichiji had to babysit his niece, and Nanami downright turned down the evening completely, leaving only him, Shoko, and Utahime alone to attend this mystery friend’s show.

Utahime had in fact begged Satoru not to tag along once she realized that so few people would be coming and she was not entirely fond of him impeding on what could have been girl time with Ieiri, but he persisted, assuring her that he would be delighted to tag along to see what all the fuss was about. Utahime was horrified, to say the least, but she knew that once Satoru had decided upon involving himself in something, there was no way of turning him elsewhere.

So the three professors trekked on that Friday evening, pushing through busy crowds of people until they approached what Satoru could only describe as a hole in the wall smack in the middle of a row of shops and restaurants. It was a small brick building with a hazy led sign spelling out what he assumed to be the name of the establishment with narrow black doors and the scent of liquor tingling the air as people walked in and out. It was clearly a busy and popular place, well worn by the years and buzzing with visitors. He could hear the overlapping chatter of hundreds through the walls from the outside, loud laughter, the scraping of seats against hardwood floors, and the clinking of beer bottles and flasks.

This wasn’t exactly the type of place he had expected Utahime to take interest in, leading him to only grow more curious about who exactly they were about to see inside this enticing little building.

“This is it?” Shoko asked coolly, twisting her cigarette over to the other side of her mouth as her brown eyes examined the outside.

Utahime hummed, double checking her phone screen displaying a text bubble with an address that she had been following. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she nodded, looking back up.

“Huh,” Satoru said, scratching the back of his head as he examined the spot along with the two women beside him. “Didn’t peg you for the grungy type, Utahime,” he teased. The said woman gritted her teeth, tossing a glare over her shoulder through the side of her eye.

“What the hell do you know about my interests?” she hissed.

Satoru smiled, shrugging. He took the first steps toward the door, grinning smugly at Utahime as he brushed past her. “Enough to know that you’ve always been too much of a goody-two-shoes to come somewhere like here all by yourself.”

Utahime growled, clenching her phone tighter within her grasp as Satoru pushed the door open, the noisiness of the inside immediately blaring out into the atmosphere.

“After you,” he smirked, her eyes twitching.

Shoko patted the woman’s shoulder softly before making her way inside. “Don’t let this idiot sway you with his nonsense, Hime,” she advised with a light smile. “You don’t want him to win, do you?”

That question was enough to get Utahime to straighten herself up, following suit behind the brunette. “Like hell I do,” she grumbled. Satoru snickered, letting the door swing closed behind him once they all made it inside.

Satoru had been right about his earlier observation. It was absolutely packed inside, the space much larger than it looked from standing before the exterior. A series of occupied tables took up the majority of the space, where customers sat and talked vividly, surfaces cluttered by bottles of finished and unfinished alcohol. On the left side of the room, the bar resided with crowds swarming the countertops.

The atmosphere was so dark. If Satoru hadn’t been gifted with his six eyes, he likely would have had to squint to find his way through the dimness. The space was illuminated in a lazy, red glow, specs of golden spouting from the bar for the sake of the bartenders and low hanging lamps swinging over the tables.

At the very front of the room was a small stage, concealed by a thick velvet curtain. A few men dressed in black stood at the floor chattering amongst themselves and gesturing above, likely in charge of managing the performers or the stage functions.

“Well, look at you, Utahime,” Shoko patted the woman on the back enthusiastically, the trio standing at the entrance. “You got some spunk in you.”

“It’s not me, it's (Y/n),” the hazelnut eyed woman rolled her eyes. “She’s the one performing at these places.”

“Then you must have some sick friends we don’t know about.”

“And to think, I had no idea you had any friends outside of your colleagues,” Satoru chimed in, inspiring a vein to bulge in Utahime’s forehead. “So, where is this ‘friend’ of yours? I’m starting to think she isn’t even real.”

“Shut up, Gojo! She’s real!” the sorcerer barked. “She told me her performance slot was at ten. That’s in five minutes.”

“We’d better grab a seat then, huh?”

“She said she had the manager save us one up front. I guess we should go check it out.”

“You guys go ahead,” Ieiri waved her hand. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want?”

“Nah. You know how I get, so no alcohol for Satoru. But here,” Satoru stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. He dug into the pocket of his pants and handed her his wallet. “Go crazy. The black one’s unlimited.”

Shoko quirked a mischievous brow, snatching the leather wallet between her index and middle finger. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Satoru,” she said. “Utahime? Anything?”

“Just surprise me. I’ll need something to get through being out with this idiot.”

Satoru grinned playfully and Shoko nodded before walking off.

Utahime clicked her tongue, dissatisfied with the fact that she was left alone with the man next to her. Satoru immediately detected her displeasure and smiled, leaning over her shoulder and gesturing his arm forward. “Lead the way.”

“Get away from me.”

Upon spotting a vacant table to the far left in front of the stage, Utahime took the lead as she shuffled awkwardly through the cramped pathways to make her way to the seat. Once the two made it, she spoke shortly with the man standing guard nearby to tell him that she was the expected visitor in which this seat had been reserved for. The man backed off accordingly, recognizing her face from the description he must have been given beforehand.

The two sorcerers sat down across from each other, Satoru leaning back in his wooden seat with a contented exhalation. “This is a nice change of pace,” he said.

“If you’re mocking me, quit it. (Y/n) is very talented and I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t think it would be worth it.”

“About that. I’ve been meaning to ask. Why are we hearing about this (Y/n) person now, all of a sudden? You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Because she’s a human being with her own line of work separate from sorcery. There’s no need to bring her up when we’re on duty. We all have personal lives,” Utahime spoke flatly, fiddling with her purse with her gaze down and brows angled with irritation.

“But she’s human and she knows about you somehow?” Satoru tilted his head.

“She has an idea of the weird things that go on around this country, if that’s what you mean,” Iori sighed. “Even so, none of it concerns her. She’s got nothing to do with any of this stuff.”

“Where do you know her from?”

“God, you’re so nosy,” Utahime scrunched her nose. She hung her bag by its strap over the back of her chair and leaned back. “We’re old friends, that’s all.”

“‘Old friends?’ Why so vague, Utahime?” the blue eyed man pried, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just curious to know about who we’ll be watching, that’s all.”

“Your motives are never that simple. You can shut up and watch without knowing her entire life’s story.”

“Okay. Touchy.”

Utahime grinded her teeth together. “So help me, Gojo, if you don’t behave tonight I’m ripping your hair out in your sleep, strand by strand.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, hands flying to his snowing locks fuzzy with misty dust of red casted down upon him by the ambience. “What?! No! Not my beautiful hair,” he pouted. “You’re so mean to me…”

“I’d hope so.”

Satoru threw his arm over the back of his seat. The lights suddenly flared lethargically, blinking between darkness and red to signify the commencement of a performance. Satoru noticed the way Utahime shifted in her seat immediately, turning her attention upward with a gentle smile reaching her features. Satoru followed her gaze and looked up, supposing that he’d see for himself what all the fuss was about.

The lights finally melted into darkness, blocking out the sea of tables in inky blackness with the only light provided now by the stage. Footsteps came into Satoru’s earshot, and he turned to find Shoko squeezing her way over to them, two drinks and his wallet somehow cradled in her arms. She plopped into the empty seat between Utahime and Satoru with a huff, leaning her body over to set the drinks down carefully. The brunette slid Satoru’s wallet over to him across the table.

“I’ll come back for that later,” she whispered, and Gojo snorted, tucking it away.

A short man with a scruffy beard climbed his way onto the stage from the steps on the far right, a microphone in hand. He stood before the curtain at the edge of the platform, waiting for the chatter to completely die down before he spoke.

“Good evenin’, everyone. Hope we’re all havin’ a good night.”

A few straggling hollers of excitement and a symphony of claps resounded throughout the space in response. Satoru took the opportunity to clap loudly along with everyone else, Utahime shielding her face with her hand in embarrassment.

“Alright, that’s what I like to hear,” the man nodded, grin widening. “Now, I ain’t gonna stand here long. I know what you’re all here for. So just remember to keep your damn ringers off during the performance. That shit gets distracting for our singer. And if you’re already wasted, which I can already tell most of you are-” a few laughs jump out from the crowd. “-don’t go tryin’ to climb onto stage to join her either. I know how some of you can get. Yeah, I’m lookin’ at you in the back.”

Satoru found the statement strange, to say the least. Utahime’s friend must have been incredibly popular within this establishment to spark the kind of attention that inspired men to try to get onto stage with her. Then again, looking around at the crowd, he couldn’t say that he expected much decorum from them.

“Alright, I’m done talkin’. Here she comes folks. You know her, you love her, she makes you wanna risk leavin’ the wife, our very own (Y/n) (L/n)!”

The crowd roared, the very mention of your name enough to bring a few intoxicated stragglers to their feet, cupping their hands around their mouths to whistle and shout for your entrance.

Satoru watched carefully as the announcer left the stage, admittedly intrigued. The overhead stage lights softened, isolating a single spotlight that glared against the ridges in the curtain. The surrounding atmosphere up there mellowed into sultry hues of purple and blue, complementing the recurring overarching red that sank over the space.

The curtains pulled back with a squeak, and there you were.

The white haired man’s brows lifted slowly, subconsciously, when the sight of you revealed itself like a gift on display after a tauntingly slow drag of a satin ribbon between pinched fingers.

You stood beneath the light, fingers clutching the handle of the microphone stand. Your shoulders curved with passion, body hunched into the circular ring around the speaker as though you were drawn to it like it was a piece of you. Your eyes were closed, dark lashes coated with tiny specs of gold from your eyeshadow dusting your smooth cheeks. Your lips, glossed sinfully red, grazed your mic as you took in deep breaths that expanded your bare chest, sweat or glitter glimmering over the shiny (s/c) skin of your collarbone and shoulders, twinkling beneath the overhead beam.

Adorned over your figure was a tight satin dress that accentuated every detail of your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and hugging your waist generously, cutting off over your thighs. Incredibly sheer tights ran over your smooth legs and down to your feet, snug in a pair of shiny heels you wore all too comfortably.

“Holy shit,” Satoru heard Shoko whisper. “That’s (Y/n)?”

Utahime hummed in affirmation. “Yes, it is.”

“She’s fucking hot.”

Satoru couldn’t have agreed more. You were more than hot, you were unnaturally, criminally gorgeous. You stood on that stage, soaking in the all the praise that this dive had to offer as if you had done so a million times over, your air of confidence capturing you in a sultry glow complemented by the way those red lights submerged into your aura like smooth molasses milking into cake batter.

Delicately, you opened your eyes, revealing the maroon glint of your (e/c) irises as they danced over the room warmly. Your lips pressed together into a smooth, seductive smile, reading the room and your audience and what they wanted from you, and you catered simply with the look in your eye and the smallest tilt of your enticing, blood red lips.

Satoru couldn’t look away. You had grabbed his attention, fully, easily.

The warbled blare of a saxophone brought Satoru’s attention to the small band of instruments he had failed to register behind you when the curtains first pulled away. A large man worked his fingers over the instrument beside a sleek black piano that eventually trickled with a flirtatious flutter into the saxophone’s accompaniment. The commotion within the crowd died down as the music rose gradually, tenderly.

You swayed slowly to the lazy melody, tapping your fingers against the mic handle. Your heel tapped against the floor and your hips, fuck your hips, swung gently with the will of the music. All the amusement Satoru once harbored had completely drained from his body. He felt suddenly earnest, consumed by the sight of you complemented by the symphony that followed, and he watched eagerly in anticipation for your lips to part, for sound to fly from your mouth. He awaited your voice with a sense of severity, face blank, eyes slightly wide.

As though he had summoned it, a rich note dragged through the air, deep, earthy, vibrating with soul and captivating ardor. The tune ripped through his ears, floating into the atmosphere like a dove gliding its wings through the air, touching the surface of water and rippling waves. It took several moments before Satoru realized that this blissful sound was coming from you. Your lips puckered ever so gently, brows angling as the space between your lips released the most hypnotizing vibrato he had ever heard in his life.

Chills crawled down his spine from the back of his neck as your voice nearly blended into the glide of the saxophone, slippery yet controlled and achingly sensual. You sang so effortlessly, tone mature and impassioned by your engrossed facial contortions and the subtle movements of your body. Whoops jumped into the air, followed by more claps from stunned listeners, and Satoru couldn’t decide whether he wanted to join them in rejoicing over you or turn around to tell them all to shut the fuck up so he could hear you more clearly.

He was lucky to be so close, watching you within near proximity as your lids lowered over your eyes then lifted with each note and lyric you sang, head turning and face scrunching accordingly. You were so physically reactive to your own voice, to the words that left you, to the people watching and the space you resided. You filled the room with your presence, capturing the building with your intoxicating charm. Your voice was as sexy as you were, and you sang and moved slowly enough for Satoru to take note of every detail.

The sorcerer sat there hypnotized, dizzy from you. He couldn’t even be bothered with turning to look at Shoko or Utahime to see what they were thinking, but due to their rather stiff silence, he assumed that they were in the exact same boat as him and everyone else within the room.

After a minute or so of sluggish bliss, the pianist shifted the tone of the music and played something bright and mischievous. The saxophone quickly adapted, slurring into the uplifted beat. The crowd reacted swiftly and your crimson lips spread to reveal your shiny white teeth, a grin devilish enough to feel as though Satoru wasn’t supposed to be looking.

Your jaw dropped to ease out a loud, booming note that sparked the bar into an uproar, your leg lifting and curving over the mic stand. You leaned forward, pressed the bar into your figure as you allowed that inhumane note to drift yourself forward with a tilted chin as you gaze over the crowd over your nose with those feline, hazy eyes.

Satoru’s eyes gawked over the shimmer of your thin stalkings when you raised your thigh up, the hem of your dress teasing the lace cutoff that cupped over the upper flesh.

Then, you stood back upward, yanking the mic from the stand to strut downstage, wiring dragging in your wake. You crouched down, voice fluttering handsomely through the speakers with your simultaneous and sudden engagement with those below center. You sang as though you were speaking to individual audience members, knees bent and arm dangled over them, head craning as your eyes isolated everyone, face by face.

A shout of your name jumped out as you looked around, and you loved it, responding with a playful wink as you maneuvered yourself into a seated position. Your legs dangled over the ledge, ankle crossing over the other and weight leaning on one hand.

“She’s so good, isn’t she?” Satoru heard Utahime whisper excitedly into Shoko’s direction.

Good was an understatement. You were flawless. A gem. A fucking masterpiece hidden within the confined walls of this establishment.

You were so smooth, shifting about languidly like your body was melting into all the right positions. You were like a drug to survey, seeping through Satoru’s veins and numbing his senses, leaving you to be the only thing within this space that he was perceptually aware of.

He watched you turn to look all around, finally drifting your face into the direction of his table. Your eyes found Utahime first, a glimpse of amiable excitement flickering through your gaze with a twitch in your smile. The said woman waved enthusiastically with a beam. Your smile brightened as you continued singing, (e/c) eyes dancing over Shoko and then finally onto Satoru.

The white haired man stilled under the spotlight of your gaze, your piercing eyes far more intense now that they had connected with him. His skin tingled, sapphire eyes holding your own as something within you sparked, eyes jumping ever so subtly as you took in his frame.

Satoru wasn’t normally easily swayed into speechlessness, let alone nervousness, but damn. Your eyes were practically devouring him whole as they shamelessly roamed over his body, hungrily, as if you were going to pounce on him.

Satoru grew hyper aware of his physical reaction to you in that moment. His heart was pumping steadily yet loudly within his ears and his throat had run dry, Adam’s apple bobbing whilst he tried to appear unfazed by you to no avail. A battle of dominance transpired between your shared eye contact, and he couldn’t deny the fact that you were winning. Your voice floating on in compliance with your gaze wrapped him into a chokehold, burned his peach skin, and for the first time in his life he felt rivaled by a human woman’s natural power outside of his ordinary world of sorcery and chaos.

Your hand supporting your body weight slid out, your figure leaning along with it and your eyes failing to leave Satoru’s even for a second. Your hand carried you until you were laying on your side, hand propping up your cheek and left leg crossed over the other. The blue eyed man’s eyes widened as he took in the manner in which you presented yourself before him, for him. The mic pressed into your soft lips, your gloss grazing the speaker, corners of your mouth curving with sensual delight.

You looked so edible like this, mesmerizing him with your voice like a siren out of sea. Your beautiful legs, your jutted hip, those gorgeous lashes, and lord help him, those juicy red lips that had him seeing stars. Red, Satoru observed, was your color as its shade cradled you and illuminated the frame of your body. He drank in your artistry in awe, the room growing warmer around him with each bat of your lashes and gliding of your fingers down your dress.

Cheers surrounded, but all Satoru could focus on was your face and the sudden ache arousing from his crotch. He glanced down momentarily and caught sight of the growing bulge stretching his nice pants and exhaled heavily. He rested his elbow on the table and slid his hand over his mouth, peering back up at you with blown pupils.

It was going to be a long night.

Your grin twinged with an air of satisfaction when you noticed Satoru’s response to your rather blatant flirting, and you pushed yourself back up. You tilted your head over into the opposite direction slowly, eyes trained on his until the very last second, and then they broke away.

Satoru’s daze shattered when a balled up napkin bounced off of his infinity shield. He turned rigidly to find Utahime glaring at him angrily, lips curled into a disapproving frown. “Don’t even think about it,” she seethed.

Gojo examined her for a moment before a devious smirk crept its way back on his lips. He shifted, crossing his legs to attempt to hide the current problem poking into his pants, and grinned. “No promises,” he mouthed and Utahime groaned, ripping her eyes away from him as if the sight of his face disgusted her.

Your performance ended far too soon for Satoru’s liking. When he looked back up, the accompaniment was dwindling down into the slow pace that it had begun with. You were back on your feet, turning your back to the audience to saunter over to the mic stand. You carefully slid the handle back into its holder, voice soothing into a low, conclusive note that fluttered regally off into a momentary stunned silence.

You stilled, inhaling sharply as the song reached its end. You blinked your eyes, as though reawakening from a daze, and looked up contentedly. Your hands fell to your sides and you awaited applause that came as rapidly as you had aroused the entire room.

Gojo made sure that he was the first to jump to his feet, clapping wildly with a ridiculous grin. Everyone else followed, showering you in praise, compliments, a standing ovation well deserved. Shoko ‘whooped’ next to him, joining in on Satoru’s boisterousness while Utahime clapped a bit more politely with a proud smile.

You gave a little bow, your smile radiant enough to put the sun to shame. You looked over everyone in grateful acknowledgement before turning your attention back to your friend’s table. You took the opportunity to return Utahime’s wave merrily, bringing your fingers to your lips and blowing a kiss to the brown eyed woman.

Satoru and Shoko’s cheers picked up in volume, and your eyes brought themselves back to them. Your shoulders jerked with a soft chuckle, giving the two of them an introductory wave. Satoru brightened when you looked at him again, gazes exchanging an internal, mutual address of one another’s tension.

You drew your top lip down, suppressing a bigger smile as you stared at him. Your gaze traveled downward for half a second and your eyes went big. You were quick to brush a hand over your amused expression and lower your gaze the moment the curtains drew over you and shut, concealing your beauty once more.

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip in momentary befuddlement, looking down to be reminded by his… problem. He was lucky that he was wearing pants that were tighter around his lower waist and crotch area, keeping the print of his dick somewhat compressed, but you had still managed to notice from your view upstage.

Well, more accurately, you had been looking.

Satoru grew ecstatic at the notion.

“You!” Utahime pointed an accusatory finger at the blue eyed man once the applause had died down and chatter arose once more. People began to leave after your show had ended, having only come to watch you sing, and hell, Satoru couldn’t blame them.

Satoru lowered his hands and pointed an innocent finger to his chest. “Me?”

“If you sleep with (Y/n), so help me-”

“Woah, hold on now,” Satoru stopped her. “What makes you think I’m the kind of guy to go around sleeping with strangers?”

“Oh don’t play coy, I saw the way you two were looking at each other earlier,” she rolled her eyes. “I hardly care what you do in your free time- frankly it makes me gag to think about it- but please just leave (Y/n) out of it.”

“Oh come on, it’s not my fault she was looking at me. What’s a guy to do in that situation?” Satoru shrugged. “I’m sorry I can't help my incredibly good looks.”

“I mean it, Gojo.”

“Utahime, let’s be real. She’s your friend. I wouldn’t do anything to mess with her. I’m not the horrible guy you take me for.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible, I think you’re an idiot whose arrogance is going to get you in a world of trouble one day. And I’m not even talking about how you’d affect her, I’m talking about her.”

“Hm? How do you mean?”

“She will eat you alive.”

“Eat me alive?” he repeated curiously. The prospect had only further piqued his interest. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you… I’m just thinking maybe I should see for myself.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Shoko laughed. “Think of it this way, Utahime. If Satoru sleeps with your friend, he’ll be admitting that you chose a great place for us to hang out tonight. After he doubted you, and all.”

Utahime paused, a noble grin reaching her features with the touch of her finger to her chin. “That’s right! He’d have to admit that he was wrong about me. Looks like you’re not the only one who knows how to plan a fun night out, huh?”

Satoru watched the woman gloat in her newfound honor with a blank face. “Jeez, Utahime. I didn’t think you were so obsessed with trivial things like proving me wrong. I was just playing around earlier,” he badgered, successfully rousing her agitation and disrupting her temporary air of victory.

“I can’t stand you!”

“So,” Shoko sighed, turning to observe the flow of people exiting the space as the lights rose once more overhead. “Are we gonna get to meet this girl, or what? She put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh… yeah, hold on,” Utahime pulled out her phone. “She told me before to just wait for her to text saying that we can head backstage. I think she’s in the dressing room.”

Satoru buzzed with the anticipation of seeing you up close. Something about the way you stood up there, the way you presented yourself, the way you looked at him made every fiber in his being tremble with excitement as though you were a celebrity he had only dreamed about gaining the privilege to encounter in person until this very moment.

He looked over his shoulder at all the drunken men who had been hollering your name and brimmed with vanity. Those poor idiots could only ever ponder about speaking with you one on one and seeing you up close, when he was able to saunter his way back to you with absolutely no obstacles in his way. It was foolish of him to sneer down at these non-sorcerers, who had been established as far beneath him the moment he was born, but he couldn’t help the pride that swarmed his chest when he thought about the advantage that he already had with you in comparison.

“Ah, there it is,” Utahime smiled upon seeing your name pop up on her screen. “Alright let’s go. Gojo, keep it together.”

“When have I ever done anything but that,” he grinned.

The three found themselves being led up the stage and behind the curtain by the same guy who had presented your performance. They walked through the narrow right wing and toward a door at the end of the room. The man knocked loudly upon it, announcing to you through the barrier that you had visitors before walking off. Another shiver wracked Satoru’s body when your honey-like voice called out that the door was open.

Utahime turned the knob slowly, peering into the room hesitantly. “(Y/n)?”

The door opened widely, revealing you sitting at a foggy mirror and a beaten leather chair. The surrounding clutter of storage and clothing was enough to show that you had been in this space often despite its rugged, vintage look.

The light of your vanity illuminated the brick space. You looked up when the door fully opened, and that jaw dropping smile graced your red lips again.

“Utahime,” you greeted happily. Iori beamed, rushing into the room to wrap you up in a hug the moment you stood. You let out a surprised huff, easing into her arms and chuckling. “I’m so glad you made it,” you said, rubbing her back.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world! The second I knew you were performing here, I came running,” Utahime replied, pulling away to look at you. “You were so amazing out there.”

“Aw, you think so?” you raised your brows, serene grin broadening.

“Absolutely! You made everyone go crazy.”

“I try my best,” you shrugged, eyes darting over to the brunette and the white haired man standing at the doorway. You raised a brow. “I see you brought some friends with you.”

“Ah,” Utahime recalled, releasing you from her grip. “Yes, these are my colleagues. This is Ieiri Shoko and… Gojo Satoru,” she grumbled the latter bitterly, slimming her eyes at his cocky gaze.

You hummed. “Oh yeah?” those eyes of yours flickered over Satoru rather noticeably. “Well, nice to meet you both. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“Enjoyed it?” Shoko echoed, crossing her arms with a tipsy grin. “We loved it. You’ve got a crazy set of pipes on you. And that dress? Fucking incredible.”

You accepted the compliment genuinely. “Thank you, you’re sweet.”

“How long have you been performing?”

You followed the owner of that voice and found yourself staring into captivating blue hues once more. A small smile rested on his lips and his hands were tucked into his pockets as he looked at you.

You sharpened your gaze and lowered your lids. “Do you mean here or in general?”

He shrugged, glossy lips puckering as if in thought. “Both.”

A glint flickered through your eyes when you responded, leg crossing over the other. “Been performing for ten years, here for one.”

Satoru lifted his chin and parted his lips, humming in understanding. “So you’re a real professional then.”

“I don’t know, what do you think I am?” you asked him.

Gojo immediately picked up on the light banter that you were encouraging, therefore he, so taken by the sight of you, could do nothing but play along. Especially when you proceeded to check him out with absolutely no remorse.

“I think you’re good enough to be with the stars somewhere. On a big stage with a big crowd. Bigger than any of us could imagine.”

Flattery, though common, still seemed to have a rather carnal effect on you. You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyes glistening with intrigue. “Who says I haven’t been?”

You clearly liked to challenge, to push your limits and see if your words and responses were strong enough to make the man before you falter or stumble over his words. If Satoru Gojo were anyone else in this world, he internally conceded that he would have, but he liked this daring persona you harbored. He liked the way that you were aware of the fact that you could bring a man to his knees with a look alone, the way you could shift your words to chip away at someone’s resolve and make them a mess at your feet.

He thought it was so hot.

If Utahime had been right about you earlier, that you would eat him alive if he had been presented the chance to make a proper move on you, he would have let you consume him blissfully.

He wanted you to consume him.

“You’re right,” Satoru chuckled lowly. “If you have, you’d be right where you should be. In the limelight.”

Your smile spread as your locked gaze soaked him in, and Satoru knew that he was set.

“Alright,” Utahime’s voice cut through the thick air. Her expression was bored, having very clearly witnessed what was slowly unveiling before her. While she didn’t approve of it in the slightest, she was hardly the least bit surprised.

Shoko had kept quiet as well, looking between you and Satoru with knowing widened eyes and a tight laugh-suppressing smile.

“(Y/n)? When’s your next show?” Iori asked you, clenching her jaw when her eyes cut through Satoru threateningly. The said man hardly cared, for you were initiating far more of the tension rising between the two of you than he was. After all, Satoru hadn’t been bluffing before when he had questioned the accusation thrown about regarding his sex life. He was a busy man with very little to no free time aside from the few hour block he took out of his Friday evenings to spend time with his fellow sorcerers.

Of course, women were drawn to him, but he found very little interest in entertaining their efforts. In his mind, the act would have been like poking fun at forgotten admirers for the sake of entertainment. It was beneath him, sleeping around, and he hardly trusted anyone enough with his powerful mind and body to be vulnerable with them. Consequently, he kept to himself, flirting around every now and then but never crossing the line between pretty words and physical intimacy.

So to be dragged into your will with little effort had stunned him, more so because he was not opposed to your unspoken invitation in comparison to how he would have normally reacted to someone’s advances. You looked like you were trouble, conniving, gaining control of a room with the tricks of your beauty and your talent. You knew full well that you were an unfathomable treasure, a sex symbol amongst the little world that you had built for yourself, and that alone was dangerous. Satoru knew so because he himself was just as dangerous for the same reasons and far more.

You weren’t even intimidated by his presence, like most human women were. He was abnormally tall with prominent features that stood out like a sore thumb; snowy white locks that glowed blindingly in the sunlight and eyes as vast and blue as the sky above. Normally, people shivered under his gaze, cowered in his wake, but you demanded his submission as though he was just another man, and hell, he couldn’t even be offended because he wanted you just like any other man.

“Usually I perform every Friday,” you started, pulling your eyes from Gojo to look back at Utahime. “But next week they’ve got another guest performing in my place ‘cause I want off. Sometimes I do stuff at the bar in one city over too, but during the weekends. You’re welcome to come check it out whenever. All of you.”

“We’ll definitely have to stop by more often. I can’t believe I’ve been missing you all this time.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it. I can only imagine how swamped you are with work and everything, being a professor and all. Just come when you can, no hard feelings.”

“Do you have a social media handle?” Ieiri asked. You nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s my full name pushed together. You follow me, and I’ll follow you. I love making new friends.”

The brunette immediately exchanged information with you, and just like that, the night was over.

Utahime was the first to bid farewell, claiming that she had to get up early the following morning for some business to attend to that Satoru and Shoko knew as a quick mission orchestrated by Tokyo Jujutsu High. She gave you another tight hug and Shoko followed, telling you that it was great meeting before turning to the door with Utahime. Satoru was the last to leave the room, turning over his shoulder to casually part with you.

You watched him closely, leaning your hip against your vanity with your hand on upon the other. Your red lips pressed together in a stiff smile, desiring eyes watching as you said goodbye, though you knew deep in your gut that this wouldn’t be your last time seeing Satoru Gojo.

On the way out, Satoru stopped in his tracks on the stage steps, standing over the now completely vacant building. Utahime and Shoko walked with their arms linked to the exit, Shoko stopping first when she realized that Satoru was not directly behind them. The women turned, catching sight of him looking around the room calmly.

“Satoru!” Shoko called out. “You coming or what?”

He smiled, lowering his head to look at the brunette from across the room. “Nah,” he sighed contentedly. “I think I’ll take in the ambience a bit more and… ponder over the performance we just watched. Why end the night so early, you know?”

Utahime’s expression fell flat. “It’s a quarter past midnight,” she deadpanned.

“And yet, there’s still so much the night has to offer.”

Shoko snorted, turning back around and waving her hand over her head. “Whatever you say. Text me after you get laid.”

“Like I said, Shoko, you know I’m not that kind of guy!”

Utahime huffed, shaking her head in disdain. “You’re playing with fire, Gojo. We all know you’re the strongest, but you shouldn’t underestimate that woman’s control. She will break you.”

Satoru scoffed, waving the indigo haired woman off. “Please. I’m unbreakable.”

Utahime rolled her eyes and turned her back to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. “It’s your funeral.”

His funeral, huh?

Satoru never knew himself to be the masochistic type, but somehow, the thought of you metaphorically killing him only made him harder.

You emerged from behind the velvet curtain about ten minutes after Shoko and Utahime left. You were rifling through your purse for the keys to lock up, which the owner usually entrusted you to do when you performed because you were close personal friends.

Your heels clicked and echoed throughout the vacant space, no signs of life aside from the sound of your footsteps. Even so, you knew you weren’t alone before you had even rounded that corner to exit backstage. You could sense the overwhelming presence of that friend of Iori’s who had been ogling over, and you hadn’t been surprised. When you looked up from your bag and saw his tall figure sitting patiently at the same table he had occupied earlier that night, chin propped in his fist and eyes glowing through the dim space to find yours, you lowered your arms knowingly.

“Hate to break it to you, but the show’s over, pretty boy,” you said smugly. “You’ll be waiting in the dark forever until my next one.”

“That’s okay. I was actually waiting for you,” Satoru replied suavely.

“Is that so?” you stepped down the stairs slowly to make your way over to him. “I don’t give autographs, if that’s what you’re looking for. I haven’t made it that big yet.”

“Whattt? No way. I thought you said you’ve been with all kinds of stars before.”

You walked up to the table, slinging your purse off of your arm and tossing it carelessly on the surface. “Don’t get me wrong. One day I will be,” you sighed. “Just not yet.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Satoru grinned, watching in the dim light as you slid into the seat across from him. “I’ve never seen anyone perform the way you did.”

“You must not get out much,” you teased. “I’m really not all that special in places like these.”

“Okay, we both know that’s bullshit,” Satoru cocked a brow, giving you a look as your grin widened. “You’re unreal on that stage. I’ve been around enough to know that.”

“Clearly,” you chuckled. “I appreciate the flattery, Gojo.”

Your laugh was heavenly, and holy shit, you remembered his name.

“Satoru,” he corrected you, quickly ridding the both of you of any formalities that could have gotten in the way. Your lips parted slightly with fascination, and you caught the way Satoru’s eyes jumped to the motion.

“Right. Satoru,” you tested his first name on your lips, and Satoru thought that he would have combusted right then and there.

If that hadn’t been enough to blow a fuse in his brain, sitting so close to you and taking in your features within your proximity was a gift within itself. You were even prettier up close, the details he couldn’t quite admire from when you were on stage fully displaying themselves before him exquisitely.

Your eyes were so heavy, lined with a coat of black liner that deepened, accentuated the rich hue of your alluring eyes and your skin so smooth beneath the expertly applied coat of makeup you wore for your performance. You still had on that dress too, only it was concealed by a leather coat that reached your thighs, hiding what Satoru so desperately wanted to see now that he was mere feet away from you.

“So, a colleague of Utahime’s, huh?” you prodded, seeking further information from him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a teacher.”

Satoru laughed lightly at the sentiment, momentarily forgetting that you had no clue about what his profession could have possibly entailed. “I get that a lot,” he elected to say.

“And at a religious school no less?”

You were testing the water.

“It’s just work,” Satoru shrugged. “I never thought about it as religious or non-religious, which I know is probably weird to say since I am a professor there.”

“No, I get what you mean,” you said. “Work is just work,” you repeated his words, and Satoru smiled.

“Exactly.”

“Then you come to these kinds of bars for, what, a break from all the sanctity?” you mused.

“Not really. I’m actually not much of a drinker. I only came here for the entertainment. Per Utahime’s suggestion, of course.”

“Right,” you smiled. “Speaking of, Utahime doesn’t seem to like you very much. I only got that from the way she introduced you like she wanted your head on a silver platter,” you observed smugly, Satoru releasing an amused breath.

“She acts like she hates me, but I’ve known her for years. She’s just always been easy to mess with and she lets me pick on her.”

You laughed, clearly understanding what he meant. “So you’re that kind of guy, huh? Picking on poor Utahime. No wonder she hates you.”

“Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like some kinda monster,” Satoru sulked slightly, much to your amusement.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you were. I could take it.”

Satoru’s cock twitched, your words alone enough to further stimulate his lust for you.

You could take it.

The phrase had so many different possible connotations, and you knew it. Your eyes said it all as they melted over his face, surveying his facial reaction to the way you lifted a nail between your teeth to bite down on it mid sentence.

It drove him crazy.

“You don’t seem like the type though,” you countered your previous statement. Satoru leaned forward slightly, inquisitive.

“No?”

“Nah, you seem too nice.”

The blue eyed man snorted. “You think I’m nice?”

“Or maybe that’s not the right word,” your painted finger tapped against your bottom lip, the flesh so plush beneath your touch.

He wanted to feel that softness against him. He wanted your lipstick to stain his body. To stain his life. He wanted you so bad.

“I mean, I guess I do consider myself to be generous,” Satoru played along, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Mmmm,” you pressed your lips together, slimming your eyes and setting your elbows onto the table. You leaned into him, eying him closely, studying his cunning smile and pressing your chest into the table. “I take it back.”

“Damn, you don’t think I’m nice anymore?”

“You’re more… extroverted,” you decided. “You know how to talk to people, and it comes off as generosity. Sometimes. But in reality, it’s just you being lighthearted.”

“So lightheartedness and generosity aren’t the same thing?”

“Hell no,” you smirked. “You could be a dickhead and still be spirited.”

He chuckled again. You were so forward. “You’ve got a point.”

“You’re also a little flirty, you know that?” you specified. “I think that’s a part of your ‘lightheartedness.’”

“Oh really?” the strongest sorcerer shifted to open his fist and lean his cheek over in his palm, peering down at you through his lashes. “Pretty, if I’m flirty, then you must be in love with me.”

You were momentarily stunned by the comment, your pleasure with the conversation only growing as Satoru grew more brazen. “Wow. That’s a new one,” you grinned, pretty teeth on display again, and Gojo found himself mirroring the sun before him.

“I’m just saying, I’m not the only one who’s been flirting. You can’t tell me otherwise.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” you admitted freely, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Satoru sucked in a heavy breath as his pants only grew tighter. “Hate to break it to you, though, I don’t do love if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. Somehow I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“What did you peg me for?”

Satoru took a few seconds to reply, staring at you. “As a woman who your friend told me would eat me alive.”

“What?” you released a real laugh this time. It was a loud, bright sound that boomed through the empty space and left Satoru’s cheeks aching and dimples popping from how hard he was smiling in reaction to it. He watched the way your head tilted back and your eyes scrunched closed, your expression displaying true thrill.

You were so beautiful, he couldn’t stand it.

“Why’s that so funny?” he asked in the midst of his idiotic simpering.

You swiped a finger under your eye as you calmed, shaking your head with lingering giggles. “Because Utahime would say something like that about me,” you exhaled.

“Can I ask if she was wrong?”

You interlocked your fingers, elbows on the table, and rested your chin atop them. “No, she’s not,” you said, softly. “But you know that anyway, don’t you? You look pretty smart.”

“Aw, thanks for noticing,” Satoru cooed. “You’re right. I knew that the second I saw you.”

You hummed, dragging your eyes over his face, then down to his hands. “Then why are you here, Satoru? To get eaten alive?”

There went Satoru dick for the third time that night, jumping excitedly within the confines of his pants. The predicament began to grow rather uncomfortable, and you were quick to notice when he shifted in his seat in an attempt to be subtle and his dark pupils expanded amidst the pools of sapphire beneath his messy hair.

Your perfectly plucked brow arched as you looked down when he shifted. “Problem?” you asked knowingly, sensually, and god, you were only making his situation worse. Your lips bounced apart with the end of your question, your mouth now slightly agape.

Satoru could feel his skin burn, your presence unbearably intoxicating.

A muscle in Gojo’s brow twitched as you lowered your palms flat to the table and pushed, your chair scooting loudly across the floor. Blue pools of desire followed your figure as you rose from your chair slowly, rounding the table with your fingers dragging along the surface. Satoru’s heart was hammering, entirely fixated on you as you approached and stood over him.

Suddenly, you kicked your foot out and knocked it against the front leg of his chair. Hooking the point of your heel over it, you dragged the furniture away from the table to face you. You broke your eyes from his to look down, the image of his throbbing hardon meeting your eyes kindly.

“Looks like it,” you answered for yourself.

Satoru instinctively released his technique when he saw you coming into him. You leaned over and pressed onto his shoulder, throwing your leg around him to straddle his lap. Satoru hissed, corner of his lips twirling up as his eyes flew to where your thighs crowded around his crotch, tights stretching perfectly over the way the fat of your thighs expanded when you sat.

You pouted, sliding your arms around his neck and tilting your head down to meet his lowered eyes. “What’s wrong? Got no more talk in you?”

The white haired man trembled under you, wordlessly taking you in. You smelled so good, your scent invading every one of his heightened senses as your gentle fingers dragged over the nape of his neck. You leaned in closer, brushing your wine red lips over his glossy ones as he exhaled shakily, warm breath fanning against your skin.

“Am I making you nervous, pretty boy?” you whispered into him, and he fucking shuddered. “I thought you wanted this…”

Your fingers tangled up and into his hair, pushing his locks from his forehead and tilting his head back. You looked over him, marveling at his beauty as his cheeks reddened and his hands cupped over your waist. His lashes fluttered with the brush of your fingers through his silky strands, eyes inky pools as he looked up at you desperately.

“Funny, your dick may be making all the moves for you,” you teased, words vulgar as they dripped from your tongue.

Satoru’s length jumped against your inner thigh, hardening beneath your weight. He clenched his jaw and drew his brows together, digging his fingers into your hips under your coat. You hummed, drawing your lips to his ear. “See? All of a sudden he’s more talkative than you are.”

“Fuck,” Gojo hissed, your voice in his ear snapping something deep within him. “Baby, you’re something else.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” your fingers curved down the side of his jaw and over his throat. “You gonna let me ruin you?”

Satoru smiled breathlessly, his grip around you tightening. “I should be asking you the same thing, pretty…” his heavy hands smoothed down over your ass, pushing you further up against him. You raised your brows, pulling away to look down at him daringly.

“That’s pretty cocky for a guy who lost his words for a second, there,” you licked your lips.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea how cocky I can be.”

You grabbed a fist full of his shirt, tugging harshly. “Then prove it.”

Your mouths were clashing into each other’s before Satoru could even process his next thought, which only would have been something about you. Your lips were so soft, plush as a cloud as they mashed into his own, your red gloss smearing over his lips and chin, painting him red, and Satoru knew then that he could die happy.

Satoru reached up blindly and pushed your jacket off your shoulders. You swiftly shimmied out of the fabric, letting it drop to the floor whilst your lips remained locked hungrily in a primal, hot, greedy battle. The white haired man immediately snatched the opportunity to feel over your body, memorizing the curves that followed his hands beneath the smooth fabric of your tight dress. His legs spread beneath you, feet pressing into the floor to hump up into your hips as your body curved into him like the trickle of water smoothing down a pipe.

He grunted into your mouth as you nipped and bit, curling your tongue into his mouth to fight for your authority. Satoru welcomed your dominance, floating into a twisted heaven as your hand curled over his throat and your tits pressed into his shirt through your dress, thighs rubbing over his sides and nails dragging down his chest to rip open the buttons of his shirt.

“That shirt was expensive,” he breathed heatedly into you between the swift seconds your lips broke apart. Wet smacking filled your ears as you pressed back in, pushing your body flush against his large frame and licking your tongue along his lip.

“I don’t care,” you purred. Satoru released a shaky moan, slamming his lips back into yours, eager to taste every bit of your lipstick and the slick of your tongue.

You jumped back to stretch the material of his shirt further apart, buttons popping with the revelation of his flushed, bare pecs and the hint of his well-sculpted upper abdomen. You dragged the shirt from his shoulders, Satoru yanking his arms free to grab your cheeks and press you harder into him. “Your lips feel so good,” he huffed mindlessly, a string of saliva pulling from the two of you as you parted.

“All I did was kiss you,” you breathed.

“So kiss me more,” he demanded. “Everywhere. Wherever. I don’t give a fuck.”

“So bossy,” you groaned, teeth grazing his jaw as you slid your hands down his exposed skin, feeling over the ridges of his abdominals. Satoru jerked, breath releasing with a vocalized sigh as your touch smoothed over his stomach. You popped open the last button of his shirt and ripped it out from under him, throwing it over your shoulder with a pretty smirk, lipstick smudged messily over your cheek. “I’ll kiss you when I want to kiss you, where I want to kiss you.”

“Don’t be like tha-mmm…”

Your hand slid over the bulge of his pants as you pressed yourself up above it to free the space for your access. Satoru clenched his jaw and watched intensely as your fingers traced over the outline of his hard on teasingly, teeth sinking into your lip as you monitored his reaction. “You feel big, Toru,” you observed sweetly. “Can I call you that? Toru? You like that, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” he heaved, eyes blurry. “Call me whatever the fuck you want.”

“Atta boy,” you praised, pressing your lips to his cheek as his cock jerked beneath your hand. “Ohhh, look at that. Someone likes praise…”

“You’re- killing me, baby,” he looked up at you, jaw hanging as stuttered breaths escaped him. “Need you to take care of my cock, pretty, can’t handle the way you’re touching me.”

“You must be so used to getting what you want,” you sighed. You leaned to place your finger at the base of his balls, watching the way his body jumped. You slid your finger all the way up his concealed shaft slowly before ripping it away with a sweet smile. Satoru made a noise like a dissatisfied whine in his throat. “I already told you, I’ll do what I want when I want it.”

He tossed his head back, brows curling. “(Y/n),” he whimpered.

“Ooo, don’t say my name like that,” you pushed your hips back down to roll against his cock, a pretty moan fluttering from his muscular throat. “You’ll get me even wetter than I already am.”

Satoru’s hands clutched down onto your thighs, squeezing harshly with aching want.

“Relax,” you ordered, and he did, sinking back into the chair as your hands climbed over him and your lips touched the crook of his jaw. “Good boy.”

You slid your tongue along his skin, sinking your teeth into his neck like a damn vampire, smoothing your open mouth over the stinging bites, marking his skin redder than that makeup you wore. Satoru breathed heavily, twitching beneath you uncontrollably. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, and he was already a mess at your will. His moans strained in his throat as you sucked circles on his neck mercilessly, capturing any piece of his perfect skin you could find.

He needed you to free his cock so badly. It was causing him pain, at this point, how achingly hard he was. He could feel precum already staining his underwear and soaking through his slacks, but you kept him waiting, pressing you clothed mound to his bulge as his grasping hands pulled your dress over your legs and scrunched it around your waist.

Your lace cut offs and string panties unveiled themselves to him and he almost came then and there beneath you. You were so bad, dressing like this to perform as though you were asking to get fucked afterward. As though you knew Satoru had walked through those doors and would melt into putty the moment you laid your hand on his chest.

“Uh uh,” you whispered, feeling Satoru press his dick up into you again. He could feel the slipperiness between your thighs, soaking your thin underwear and threatening to pool through to touch his clothes. “Stop that,” you said firmly, glaring up at him from where you had begun nipping at his chest.

Your back was arched, your ass sticking out over his lap, and oh, you were just begging to be fucked, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do anything but what you told him. Not yet at least. He got off on the way you dominated him, the way you took control with no idea that if he wanted to he could have snapped you in half.

Only, if he wanted to.

“Pretty, I want you so bad,” Satoru said through gritted teeth, gazing longingly at you through the mess of his hair. He involuntarily bucked up into you again and you gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly with one hand and onto the hand that gripped your waist with the other.

There you were. He had finally gotten a reaction from you.

Your face darkened, your eyes hard. You looked back up at him with eyes that could kill, expression falling into intensified hunger. Satoru gulped.

You lifted your hips and grinded them forward, pressing them down and swiveling your lower body with rapid pressure. Gojo inhaled sharply, eying the way you slithered across his dick like a goddamn snake, movements glossy and abrupt. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist, curling into the waistband of your panties and stretching at them eagerly.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” you growled, rolling your hips over him again and moaning softly when his bulge rubbed against your clit. “Shit, how fucking big are you, Toru?”

“You would- hah- know if you took my f-fucking cock out, princess,” Satoru moaned, pulling at your hips to keep them in motion. You finally complied, rocking your sopping cunt against him slowly, the friction against your heat sparking waves of pleasure to your brain.

“Mmm, fuck,” you whispered. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Baby, come on,” Satoru begged, encouraging you to keep going. You began to get yourself off, using his hardon to stroke against you dripping pussy as humped his pants, pulling back and pushing in, back and in. “There you go, pretty, grind that pussy onto me. Make yourself feel good…”

“I said- ah- s-shut up!” You pushed him back by his shoulders harshly, holding him still against the back of the chair as you rode him out through your pants, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open. Your pace quickened, your clit throbbing with each grind it took against his length. “Why do you feel like this with fucking pants on?” you breathed out, confounded by howquickly he was making you feel this good.

“Take them-ngh, fuck- o-off, and it’ll feel better.”

You fumed, slapping a hand over Satoru’s mouth as you glided your throbbing pussy into him hard. A muffled groan escaped Satoru’s mouth, eyes threatening to roll back as a string of curses fled your lips.

You wanted him to shut up. No man had ever spoken to you this much, in such a manner that Gojo was encouraging you with that sweet, needy desperation lacing his deep voice. It was only dragging more arousal from your cunt, and you weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to responding to a man’s body and mouth this way.

You usually did all the talking. You were normally the one watching in amusement as a man shook like a leaf underneath you. You were usually the one experiencing less pleasure, but hell, you had only dry humped Satoru for five minutes and your pussy was already pathetically crying for him. And his mouth, god, he just wouldn’t be quiet, and his inability to do so was threatening to weaken you.

You truly did not want to comply with his desires, but you could no longer deny that the both of you longed for the same thing.

You kept your hand secure over Satoru’s mouth, his fucked out gaze drinking you in as you hurriedly unbuckled his belt, fumbling over the straps and leaning away from him momentarily to do so. Satoru’s hands moved to help you, but you pushed them away, pressing against his mouth harder.

“Don’t touch,” you ordered. His groan of frustration and want vibrated against your palm, his hands grabbing immediately into the plush of your exposed ass beneath you bunched dress.

You scooted further down Satoru’s legs so that you could tug his pants down once you got his belt out of the way. You hadn’t even bothered to stand to pull them all the way down, for you were in far too much of a rush to free his dick to care.

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, ripping them down quickly. Your lips curved back into a smile, your frustration fading, when his gorgeous cock flew free and smacked angrily against Satoru’s abdomen. A smear of shiny precum spread over his skin in his tip’s wake, the pink head oozing generously. Your eyes grew, internally and temporarily stunned by Satoru’s size. He was long, unnaturally so, with bulging veins wrapped around his shaft and trailing upward. A soft tuft of white hair resided above his dick at the end of a teased happy trail.

Your (e/c) eyes admired his entire figure once more, his heaving breathing, sweaty brawny chest, the love bites you left behind, littering his collarbone and either side of his neck within circles of your lipsticks stains that trailed up to his nose behind your hand, his flushed skin, and sex dazed sapphire pools.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Toru,” you praised. A glimmer of light flickered through his pupils in reaction to your gentle words, a stark contrast to the way harshly you pushed into him.

Gradually, you wrapped your free digits around his base. Satoru moaned, broken voice rumbling into your hand. Your tongue touched the top row of your teeth as you reveled in the feeling of his dick in your hand. It twitched within your soft palm, fluttering toward you with a mind of it’s own.

“You wanna do me a favor, baby?” you asked, and Satoru nodded eagerly. “You wanna move my panties to the side so I can slide your pretty dick inside me?”

Satoru trembled, nodding again with fervor. You leaned down and kissed his cheek again.

“Go ahead,” you spurred him on.

The white haired sorcerer wasted no time in reaching under you to rip his fingers into the thin strap of your thong. He stretched the band out desperately before feeling his way further down, freezing when he touched a cool patch of slick dripping from the cloth hiding your pussy from him.

He pushed the fabric aside as you had advised him to and experimentally slid his fingers over your slit, collecting your sticky fluid as it seeped down his palm. His chest jumped with another muffled moan, eyes hardening when your dark lashes flickered and your thighs jerked over him. You were so wet for him, and you were trying not to show it on your face, but Satoru could tell that you were deprived of him, of real, attentive, passionate doting. He could tell that you needed him as much as he needed you.

Satoru allowed his mind to wander as he sank his index finger past your lips and into your warm, gooey walls. You mewled, hips bucking downward. “Satoru,” you warned, but your voice lacked your previous grit. The blue eyed man smirked behind your palm just seconds prior to your removal of it from his mouth. Your lids grew heavy over your eyes as he dragged his finger out and pushed it back in slowly, swirling around your gummy insides. “Ahhh, shit- f-fuck you!” you moaned, the sounds you released so pretty.

“Don’t fight it, gorgeous,” Satoru coaxed, finding his voice again. He plunged his finger deeper inside you, twisting and twirling so slowly that you almost saw stars. “Fucking hell, this pussy is so greedy. She’s sucking in my finger like it’s nothing. Such a perfect cunt for me.”

“St-Stop with that c-cocky shit, oohhh god,” you gasped, lowering yourself back down and ducking your head into Satoru’s shoulder as he worked another finger into you slowly, your juices squelching loudly with their lazy pump in and out.

“So you can be cocky, but I can’t, hm?” he turned to murmur into your hair, listening to the sinful sounds your needy pussy made around his fingers. Your arousal proceeded to flood over him like a pool, drenching his wrist and dripping onto his balls and the wooden chair. “Mmmm, you really like this, baby. You’re drenching me so good, almost like you’ve never been fingered before.”

“This’s exactly-y why I covered y’r mouth,” you mumbled, breath hot against his neck. “You talk too goddamn muchhh, fuck, Toru, right there! Right fucking there, like thattt…”

“Hm? Like this?” he curled the tips of his fingers against your walls and you yelped, notifying him that he had discovered your sweet spot. “Right there, right pretty?”

“I already told you, yes,” you moaned, gripping the back of his chair. “Yes, yes,” you murmured, and Satoru hissed.

“Enjoy it, baby. So pretty. Such a gorgeous girl, such a gorgeous little pussy…”

“Fuck, Satoru,” you exhaled raggedly. The said man made a noise of acknowledgement, hypnotized by the steady stroke of his fingers into you. With your hand still wrapped over his cock, you slid your it up his shaft slowly, squeezing softly. Satoru’s fingers froze inside you, his face burying into your hair.

“Oh my god…” he grunted, closing his eyes. “Your hands are so perfect.”

“You’re whipped,” you teased, lifting your hips up into the air so that his fingers could reluctantly leave.

Satoru studied the stretch of slick that connected his fingers to your cunt as they left your walls. Before he could protest, you were guiding his tip toward you and sliding your sloppy cunt overtop of it.

“(Y/n), fuckkkk,” Satoru drawled, jaw slack while he watched you ease your way down over him. The tip of his puffy dick slowly disappeared within your slimy walls, and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull with the toss of his head backward. His fingernails imprinted into your sides as you sank down, swallowing his girth and taking him into you.

You huffed out, moaning loudly with your hands now pressed into Satoru’s bare chest. His girth was quick to stretch you before you had even made it halfway. A whine caught in the back of your throat as your face tightened. You had never taken someone so big before, and he was filling you up so deliciously. You could feel every twitch, every curve, every ridge and vein of his heavy, lengthy cock as it slipped further into you, your walls tightening instinctively around him the further down you went.

“Oh, baby,” you purred. “Your dick’so… nghhh, shittt!”

“She’s soakin’ me,” Satoru choked out, assisting your glide down with the drag of your hips to his own. “So tight, god, pretty, you can’t be fucking real. You- this fucking pussy, hahhh, that’s it, baby. That’s it, keeping going. All the way. Please, baby, please. Want to fill you up. Need to be all inside this messy cunt.”

“So big,” you mused, watching as he sank into you halfway, and for the first time in your life, you paused. “Fuck, you’re in my stomach!”

“Take it all, honey, take fucking all of it. You got it, pretty girl. Keep going.”

“Don’t- hah- need your help, fucking- fuck!” You sank down further, pushing with the pull of Satoru’s desperate hands. Your breath left your lungs momentarily, Satoru’s long dick sliding up to the hilt of your pussy and stretching you absolutely full. You could feel him everywhere, your bum reaching his balls the moment you saddled onto him completely.

Satoru’s face stilled into blissful emptiness, staring down at where you were connected and the bulge that prodded against your lower tummy. “That’a girl, fuck, you’re so good,” he babbled, hands sliding up your back. His fingers blindly grabbing for a zipper. He peeled it down once he pinched it, curving his hands under your slipping dress as he exposed your bare skin to the empty space.

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulders accordingly, revealing the plush of your pretty tits that peaked over the fabric. Satoru was overwhelmed, struck by your entire being as you warmed his trembling dick, perky nipples pressing into his line of sight as your dress fell around your waist.

Satoru pushed in, pressing his hands to your lower back and arching you into him as he touched his lips to the center of your tits. His dick nudged your insides with the motion and you inhaled sharply, holding onto him tightly.

“Could you be any more fucking perfect,” he grumbled, catching your perky nimble between his lips.

Your body leaned back and he craned forward along with you, hands supporting your weight to him as he teased your nipple between his teeth. His tongue followed swiftly, lapping over your bud and sucking hungrily off your tit, spit drooling from his mouth as he made out with the plush fat. Your moans carried just as your singing had, lifting melodically into the space and bouncing regally off of the confined walls and casting Satoru deeper under your trance.

“Smell s’good, taste so good, feel so, so good. Can’t get enough of you baby, can’t.”

“You’re so sappy,” you whispered, head rolling on your shoulders and eyes closing as your cunt clenched around him in pleasure.

Satoru moaned into your chest, marking up your boobs as you had his neck. “C’mon, baby,” he grunted. “Kill me.”

You were quick to carefully lift your hips, Satoru’s length sliding along your gummy walls. You were slow at first with the withdrawal before lowering yourself down heavily, his cock slamming back into your aching pussy.

You both moaned in unison, and you wasted no more time. You set a steady pace, pushing up and pushing back down to sink over Satoru’s dick, juices leaking and mixing into his precum as you clenched repeatedly around him. You rode him out carefully, nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” Satoru purred, peering up at you from under your other tit, eyes dark enough to sink into. “Ride me out, gorgeous, use my cock.”

“Fuck, Toru, you’ve got such a good dick,” you whimpered, reaching up to tug into his hair. Gojo’s eyes rolled, skin slapping lewdly with the collision of your ass rippling against his thighs. The slimy sound of his rock hard cock sliding from your drenched heat was like music to your ears, better than any song you had ever sung, better than any cheers you had ever received.

“Ah-ngh, baby, baby,” Satoru blabbered, already fucked out. “So fucking wet, dripping all over me. Pussy feels so good, so so good…”

“Yeah? You like when I ride your dick, baby? You like being the only one I get to fuck after my show? You like being my toy, tonight?”

“Fuck yes, love it so much. Fucking love the way you fuck this cock, pretty, don’t fucking stop.”

“That’s a good boy, Toru,” you purred, sitting fully onto him mid bounce to roll your hips into his. Satoru moaned loudly, uncaring of his volume. His mouth found your tit again, sucking like a madman as you rode him deeply, ensuring that he felt every corner of your pussy around him and that you felt every glide of his slender cock into your wet heat. “You’re so good, taking my pussy, yeah?”

His cock jerked inside you and he nodded dumbly, tongue swirling desperately over your reddened nipple. You hummed in ecstasy, pushing into him once more and pressing him back as you threw your ass down onto him, slick and pre melting between your connection and stretching with the rapid slaps of your hips into his. You moaned, brows pinching as you brought your lips to Satoru’s parted ones, his groans and whines sliding into your mouth with the insertion of your tongue against his.

“Yessss,” you cooed into him. “So big, you’re filling me up so good.”

“I ca- nghhah,” Gojo was a mess, moaning helplessly as you bounced mercilessly onto his cock, trapping him against you so that neither of you had anywhere to go. “Sl-Slow down, pretty, fuckkk, shit, slow down,” he begged, but you ignored his pleas, bouncing faster as he held your hips shakily.

“Can’t take it, Toru? Hm?”

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum already, baby, please…”

“So soon?” you nudged, lifting your hips up to roll slowly over his tip before slamming back down, continuing you pace. Satoru choked over his own voice, leaning his head back and slumping into the chair as it rocked angrily beneath your weight, attempting to support your angry thrusts. “Mmm, not surprised, baby. Saw the way you- shit, were looking at me earlier. Saw… saw your pretty hard on from onstage. You wanted my pussy so bad, didn’t you? You wanted to be snug inside me the second you saw me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered, eyes screwed shut. “Needed you. Needed to fuck you in this pretty little slutty dress. Needed my dick in this pussy the moment you laid there in front of me. Fuck, wanted to take you right there,” he whined. His hands slid back to your thighs, pressing and clawing and squeezing.

“I know, pretty boy, I know…”

“S’much better than I imagined. F-Fuck, fucking perfect. You’re so perfect. Fucking me just right, pretty.”

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth,” you groaned, head tossing back when Satoru’s dick brushed against your cervix, veins rubbing against your g-spot as you switched to rocking back and forth over him. Satoru’s hands grabbed your ass, his eyes flickering between the way your tits jiggled with your body and his dick bulged against your lower stomach with your grinding.

You knew just how to treat his dick, keeping him snug within your wet cavern and massaging it with the fluidity of your hips. “Nghmm, right there, Toru. Right thereee,” you sighed, face contorting with pleasure.

“Don’t stop, honey,” he reached a hand up to your face. “Don’t stop, keep going. Make yourself cum on my dick.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeahhhh,” he smoothed his thumb over your cheek. “Gorgeous baby, you look gorgeous.”

“Stop that,” you whimpered through broken moans, attempting to shift away from the warmth of his palm.

“Nuh-uh, pretty, let me look at you,” Satoru laced his fingers into the back of your hair, holding your face steady and your eyes to his. “Need to see those pretty eyes, they make me so hard.”

You couldn’t fight the moan that caught you, eyes swimming into his as you rolled your hips over his cock, eyes growing heavier and heavier as a knot built in your lower abdomen and your cunt clenched more frequently.

“Mhmmm,” Satoru hummed in satisfaction. “Keep looking at me, baby.”

“I said stop the sappy shit,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. You didn’t have time to pull his hand away, however, when his feet planted into the floor and he pushed up into you, throwing his arms around your lower waist to hold you to him. You cried out, curling against his chest as Satoru thrusted up into you desperately, balls slapping up against your skin as his hazy eyes peered over your shoulder to watch the connection.

“Come on, baby,” he grumbled into your ear. “Don’t give me that, let me admire you like you deserve.”

“Aghhhh, fuckkk,” you sobbed, your body rocking wildly with the force of Satoru’s thrusts. “God, m’fucking close.”

“Me too, pretty, me too,” Satoru’s voice dipped down ruggedly, an animalistic hoarseness to his tone. He couldn’t stop, fucking into you like a rabbit as if it was the very last thing on earth he was going to do.

You whined, cunt drooling over him as it prepared you for your orgasm. Your clit rubbed against his rigid abdomen, stimulating your nerves further as you quickly approached.

“Give it to me, princess. Milk my fucking cock.”

“Cum inside, Toru,” you demanded, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. “Want your cum in me…”

“Fuck, baby, fuckkkk- mmmm, shit!”

Like an ocean crashing down onto the shore, your orgasms met each other simultaneously, juices drenching his cock with slippery white cream and sticky fluid. Satoru’s arms tightened around you, his seed splurging into your cunt endlessly, his hips rocking with the continual stream of his hot cum into your aching pussy.

Your moans mixed into each other’s loudly, building into a symphony as you rode out your high, grinding weakly into him as your vision went white.

Satoru’s legs twitched, your own practically numb around his waist. His cum proceeded to leak into you, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. The two of you sat there in your breathless aftermath for a moment, Satoru tucking his nose into your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there. He felt you sink against him, his hands smoothing gently over your back.

The moment you twitched against him, however, his cock jolted with continuous life. Satoru grunted, pushing himself up into you carefully to ease the remaining ache in his dick. You made a low noise, shifting your hips around him.

“Baby,” Satoru sighed. “Let me bring another one out of you.”

You twisted your head to the side, peeling back to look down at him curiously, slowly. Your eyes were tired, yet still dripping with lust, a soft smile playing at your lips. “Another one?” you repeated, somewhat shocked by his persistence.

“Please,” he whispered. “Need to feel you cum around me again.”

Before you could even respond, he was gripping you tight and standing from his now sticky seat. You kept your legs wrapped around him as he carefully laid you on the table, pushing your purse out of the way.

Satoru leaned over you, kissing your lips hungrily then pulling back to peck down your chest and stomach. He was suddenly so soft, caressing you and kissing you, and you watched suspiciously, unfamiliar and normally opposing this kind of contact.

Yet, you allowed Satoru to proceed.

His hands smoothed over your waist, his pants falling to his ankles. He yanked your bunched dress up and over your head, ridding your waist of the clothing article and throwing it carelessly to the side. He yanked your panties down further and slid a thumb over your clit, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over your sensitive, sopping bundle of nerves.

You jolted, feeling his cock harden inside you again as he locked your lips together. He kept his finger rolling over your soaked clit, swallowing your mewls and soft moans into his mouth.

Your hands flew to his shoulders as he pushed into you gently, his cum dripping from your entrance and squishing back up into your cunt with his soft thrust. You broke your lips from his and moaned against him, angling your brows as your pleasure built back up in an instant.

“Let me take care of this pretty pussy,” Satoru mumbled gently. “Seems like y’always take care of everyone else.”

“Satoru-“

“Shhh,” he hushed you as a broken moan fanned over his lips. He pulled back and thrusted back into you again, watching how your mouth froze open cutely and your eyes hardened. “Wanna keep feeling you. Let me keep feeling you.”

“Oh godddd…”

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Satoru mumbled against you, pussy-drunk. He slid in and out of you with ease, pressing between your legs and pushing fully into you, ensuring that you felt every inch of him gliding back into your pretty cunt, stuffing your cunt back up with his cum. “Could stay in this pussy forever. Shit, she’s so loud. Such a good pussy. My good pussy.”

“Y-gonna split me in h-half,” you stammered, and Satoru grinned a dopey fucked out smile as he gazed at you.

“Look at you, baby,” he cooed, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up speed, rocking into you with the continuous swift caress of your clit. Your body was twitching, brows furling into the sky. “God, fucking look at you. M’so lucky, so lucky I got to have you tonight and not those other- f-fucking, ngh- bastards staring you up and down. Tonight, this pussy is for me. She’s treating me so good.., ruining me for any other pussy.”

“Uhhh, Toru,” you quivered. Satoru responded swiftly, bucking his hips and plowing into you rapidly, watching as your chest stuttered with shattered breaths and your legs writhed around him the quicker he moved circles over your puffy clit. “Gonna- fuck, what the fuckkk, gonna cum againnn…”

“Fuck, can’t get enough of you. Want you to come undone, baby, let go. Let gooo.”

You clawed at his arms, watching his fingers work over your clit and his dick spear into your quivering walls. You dragged your nails down his bicep, leaving bright red scratches, but Satoru couldn’t have cared less.

You came again without warning, liquid gushing around his dick with your stunning cries. Satoru’s eyes glazed over, hand ripping from your clit so that he could cage over you, pressing his body down into yours as he demolished your pussy, squirt sprouting over his skin and with each pull away before he thrusted back in. Your fluids flew everywhere, and Satoru kept going.

“Fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, give it to me, baby, fuck meeee, fuck me harder, Toru!”

You were fucking insatiable. You clawed at his back as his inhumane strength kicked in, his hips snapping against yours with feral aggression, grunting and crying out into your ear.

“Keep squirting on my dick, baby, just fucking like that. You’re so fucking good, love this sloppy cunt. It’s all for me, pretty, all for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Satoru wasn’t far behind you. He snapped himself into you three more times before stilling with a hefty groan, ropes more of his cum pooling into you and spilling onto the ground. He kept his body locked on top of yours, legs kicking around his torso as he fed you his seed, moaning pathetically into your skin. If you weren’t on birth control, you were absolutely sure that Satoru Gojo would have gotten you pregnant.

You huffed heavily, closing your eyes to catch your breath and soak in the silence. Never in your life had you been fucked the way this man had just fucked you at your place of work, and never in your life had you been worshipped or handled the way he had done so to you, despite your understanding of your impact on men.

You laughed suddenly once recovered, body jumping with your amusement. Satoru lifted his head from you, peering down at you, dazed, with his own gentle smile on his lips.

“What’s funny?” he murmured, eyes taking you in like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Nothing, I just- don’t know what I expected from you,” you sighe.

Satoru tilted his head. “In a good or bad way?”

“A fucking good way.”

Your response was enough to have Satoru beaming, lowering his forehead to rest on your chest momentarily. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he breathed. “You really are something else, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“No, really,” he lifted his head for a final time to lock eyes. “I mean it.”

Your face fell slightly as he looked at you. You sucked your teeth, pushing him away the moment your cheeks tingled. “You’re still too sappy.”

Satoru laughed softly. “How could I not be when you’re talented, gorgeous, and you have the best pussy I’ve ever felt in my life?”

“You’re telling me stuff I already know, honey. I’ve heard it all before..”

“Guess I’ll just tell you again and again,” Satoru grinned, stealing a swift kiss from your nose before sitting up carefully, looking down at where the two of you were still connected. “Uhhh… you wouldn’t happen to have a towel around here, do you?”

You grimaced, sitting up on your shoulders to survey the mess that kept the two of you united. You looked up at him, corners of your lips twitching.

“How about we give each other head, lick it up, and call it a night?”

Satoru whipped his head back up to stare at you with wide eyes. You knew you had steered into the right direction when you felt his length harden inside you again.

“Sounds good to me,” he smirked.

•

The following day, Satoru dialed Utahime’s at around one pm. The line rang for a bit before it finally picked up.

“What?” the woman growled into the mic.

“Utahimeee,” Satoru greeted cheerfully, instantly feeling the aggravation wave off of the brown eyed women from the other end of the line. “How are you today?”

“Fine, Gojo. What do you want?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to call to tell you that you were right all along. I’m humble enough to admit that. Last night was undoubtedly the best staff outing that we’ve ever had, and it was all thanks to you. I’ll let you plan the things we do more often now,” he beamed.

“…”

Satoru could envision her pinching the bridge of her nose while her other hand pressed the phone to her ear.

Satoru’s lips tugged downward as he tried to hold back the amused laugh that was threatening to leave him. “You there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”

“You two had sex, didn’t you?”

“Whatttt?” Satoru scoffed. “Me and who?”

“WHO ELSE, IDIOT?!”

The blue eyed man chuckled slightly. “Look, I never kiss and tell.”

“Then why did you call me?!”

“To thank you for your evening suggestion, obviously,” he said. “Oh, and to tell you that I put your little inquiry to the test.”

“What inquiry?”

“That (Y/n) would break me.”

Utahime exhaled loudly. “I really don’t want to hear about that details-“

“I told you already. I don’t kiss and tell,” Satoru reassured. “But, I will say, she’s really not all that evil.”

“I never said she was evil.”

“You said something along those lines.”

“Yes, I meant she schemes. You had sex with her once, Gojo. As long as it stays that way, it’ll be fine. But the longer you spend time with her, the deeper you’ll fall, and the faster you’ll be torn to shreds. She’s my friend and I love her, but I know very well how she gets with men. I’ve seen it a hundred times over.”

Satoru pursed his lips, thinking back to the two of you exchanging numbers after he had walked you home.

“Utahime, let’s not forget who’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern age here. I’ll be fine. I don’t risk falling for anyone.”

“…yeah, that’s what they all say.”

Satoru didn’t take Utahime’s warning seriously, of course. You were too pretty for him to turn away from you so quickly, and if you were willing to keep a casual relationship that didn’t interfere with his line of work or your separation from so, he didn’t see any harm in the matter.

Satoru Gojo was the strongest to roam this planet, yes, but you had still somehow managed to bring the strongest to a point of vulnerability, to a place where he was willing to release his technique for you effortlessly, which he never did in the presence of anyone outside of his students, let alone for a non-sorcerer.

Satoru could absolutely understand and physically see where Utahime was coming from, for your impact on him was strangely inhumane despite you being one yourself but hell, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head if he didn’t at least stop by to see you perform and feel himself inside you one more time, if anything.

After all, what could have been the harm in that?

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burntsaltsblog · 3 months

Text

cruelty - billy butcher x reader

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details: butcher is being a real ass, so you decide to run away for a bit <3

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"Well, if ya' tried putting effort into any of these missions, then the rest of us wouldn't have to carry you around like dead weight."

Butcher's words hung in the air before piercing me. I met his gaze, waiting to see if he'd display even a tiny ounce of regret, but his face remained stoic, and his eyes bore into mine unapologetically.

No one said anything, and a tense silence encompassed the group. Everyone was waiting to see if I had a rebuttal to defend myself against Butcher's harsh accusation.

But I had nothing to say. For weeks, Butcher had been unusually nasty towards me, a complete switch from our old dynamic. Instead of his praise that I'd grown used to, he'd hurl nothing but criticism and bitter insults my way. And what made it worse was that he was charming to everyone else. Well, as charming as Butcher was capable of being.

The whole situation was disheartening and confusing because he and I used to be quite close. Yes, we had a significant age gap between us. But those years didn't hinder our ability to connect over our love of bizarre humor and sarcasm.

The rest of the boys assumed that we had had some misunderstanding or disagreement, but nothing of the sort had transpired. I had tried approaching Butcher to coax the reasoning for his cruelty out of him, but he brushed me off, refusing to give me the time of day.

But today was the last straw. I refused to linger any longer in an environment where I wasn't wanted or appreciated. Wordlessly and full of resolve, I turned on my heel and headed for the comfort of my room.

"Kid, wait," MM called, trying to fix the situation, but it was useless. I slammed my bedroom door behind me and slowly sank to the floor.

I didn't bother stopping my tears as they shamefully slid down my face. Through my blurred vision, I pulled out my phone and composed a text to an old friend.

Me:

Hey, do you still need help this weekend?

I used to be a drug dealer and ran in various questionable circles to support myself before I joined The Boys. But I still had friends from my former life that I kept in touch with, and every once in a while, I'd dip my toe back into the drug scene when they needed help with an extra burdensome deal. And right now, I was desperate for any excuse to get out of here.

Alex:

Have you changed your mind about joining?

Me:

Yeah, I have. It's an out-of-town one, right?

Alex:

Yup. We'll be gone for at least three days, so pack a bag. And you can crash here tonight because we have to head out early in the morning.

Grateful for the impromptu getaway, I packed my small duffle bag with my spare pair of black jeans, sweaters since it was getting cold outside, and other essentials like face wash and my phone charger.

Considering it was just past midnight, I didn't have to wait long before I heard the guys mumble goodnight to each other from the other side of my door before they all retreated to their respective rooms.

I waited five minutes to be safe before opening my door and peering out. The common room in our bunker under the pawn shop was empty, and I took it as an opportunity to sneak out. I tiptoed up the old wooden stairs and breathed a sigh of relief after bolting through the old store and out the door, letting the chilly New York air blow across my face.

The walk to Alex's apartment was short because I was already close to that side of town. And I arrived soon enough with my duffle bag in tow.

"You look like shit," Alex said, opening their apartment door and quickly letting me in.

"Well, hello to you too."

Alex snorted as they pulled me in for a hug before directing me towards the couch I would be sleeping on that night.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" They called, heading into their room to rest for the night.

I dumped my bag on the floor and fell onto the couch. It squeaked loudly in protest, and I felt several springs dig into my spine. But I wasn't complaining. Anything was better than sharing a wall with Butcher, knowing the hate he now carried for me. Besides, he snored terribly loud, which the entire group complained about daily.

After some extensive tossing and turning, I fell into a fitful sleep.

༺༻

"Rise and shine, motherfucker!" Alex yelled.

I jerked awake before immediately falling onto the floor. The decades-old carpet did little to cushion the blow, and I groaned loudly as my head throbbed in protest.

I peered up at Alex from my place on the floor and saw them holding two coffee cups. "Want some?"

"Yes, please." I rose gingery before sitting back on the sofa and accepting one of the steaming mugs. I took a small sip and nodded thanks to my friend.

"We need to get on the road in twenty minutes because our first client expects us to arrive at eight tonight. And I don’t want to be late so we can make a good first impression."

"I think the eighteen pounds of coke you're selling them should help win their approval," I said, taking an enormous gulp of the caffeinated beverage.

"Speaking of coke, I need you to help load it into the car. Come on."

༺༻

"You gonna answer that?" Alex asked from the driver's seat on our way to Bardstown, Kentucky.

"No. It's probably just spam."

Alex glanced from the road ahead to give me a knowing look. "I don't think any spam caller would ever waste their time calling the same person two hundred times."

"It's not my fault they're dedicated to their job," I mumbled.

My friend chuckled, shaking their head.

I rolled my eyes and finally peered at my phone after ignoring its constant ringing for six hours. Hughie had texted me a wapping eighty-seven times and called me fifty-one times, which wasn't surprising because he did tend to be a phone stalker. I scrolled through his messages, landing on the most recent one sent three minutes ago.

Hughie:

Look, I get that you're pissed at Butcher, and that's probably why you left. But please let us know that you're safe. We're freaking out over here.

I sighed heavily before I forced my fingers to type out a response.

Me:

I'm fine. I'm out of town helping a friend. Sorry to worry you. I'll be back on Monday.

I pondered over the words before deciding to go ahead and send it. It was a little colder and more direct than how I usually communicated, especially to Hughie. But I knew he'd understand.

Hughie's reply came within seconds. But before I could read it, the notification of an incoming call covered my screen. A lump formed in my throat when I saw Butcher's name flashing in front of my eyes. My thumb hovered over the 'accept' button before I shook my head and hurriedly declined the call. I am sure he only called to yell at me for disappearing, and I wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded by him.

"I can drive the rest of the way," I offered, returning my focus to Alex.

"No thanks, I'm good," They responded like I knew they would. Alex was very particular about driving and refused to get into an operating motor vehicle unless they were the one behind the wheel. I respected that, but it still felt like the right thing to do was offer so it didn't look like I was putting the burden of transportation on them.

My phone vibrated, notifying me that I'd received another text, and I reluctantly viewed the message.

Butcher:

I know you ignored my call.

Ok? And the sky is also blue. I'm so glad he's able to notice the obvious. At least there's nothing wrong with him in that department.

Just as I decided to ignore his text, his name lit up on my phone again, signaling another incoming call. I slumped in my seat, and groaned under my breath. Again, my finger pushed the red icon, sending him straight to voicemail. Not even a second later, Butcher began to call for the third time.

"You know," said Alex, "If you answered the phone, they might stop calling."

"I'd answer if it was anyone else. I refuse to talk to this particular person."

"Alright, have it your way," they muttered, changing lanes.

We fell quiet, and the only sound was my phone as it buzzed with a final text.

Butcher:

Please come back.

༺༻

"I'd say that was pretty successful," I declared as we pulled into our Kentucky motel the next day. We had just finished our final deal, and while it was a little tedious, Alex's client ended up being happy overall with their purchase and promised they'd do business again.

"Yeah, thank God," Alex replied, cutting the engine after pulling into a parking spot. "I'm just grateful you were there. I think your presence was a great influence. You're still a legend in the drug community," they smirked.

I laughed lightly. "I'm happy to help anytime."

"Watch out because I will hold you to that promise."

We piled out of the car, and I waited out front while Alex headed in to get the key to our room. It was just past one in the morning, and I glanced over my shoulder, staying on high alert.

Alex exited the front entrance and dangled a key triumphantly. After entering our room, we each fell onto a twin-sized bed, and I watched as Alex almost instantly fell asleep.

I curled up on the wrinkled comforter for a few minutes before sitting up and rummaging through my bag for my phone; it had died a couple of hours ago, and now was my first opportunity to charge it.

I had received a text from Hughie asking if I was ok, to which I replied that I was, and I hadn't heard from Butcher since I'd blocked him last night when he proceeded to call me every thirty seconds, disrupting my sleep.

With nothing else to do, I slipped my jeans off, stashed my handheld in the bedside drawer, rolled under the covers, and attempted to sleep.

༺༻

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," Alex said as they pulled up to the pawn shop.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, it felt like old times."

We hugged before I got out of the car and looked up at the one building I wanted to avoid more than anything. Three days wasn't long enough, and I genuinely considered asking Alex if they wanted a roommate. But their jeep was already speeding down the road, so I had no choice but to enter the pawn shop and descend the familiar steps.

"You're back!" yelped Hughie as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me. I stumbled back before gaining my balance and returning the hug. "Yeah," I replied lamely.

I nodded to Frenchie and MM before they both turned to Hughie. "You ready?" MM asked, and Hughie replied that he was.

"D'accord, let's go," Frenchie said, and the three of them passed me as they headed upstairs and out of the pawn shop, leaving me alone with Butcher, who stood by the couch.

"Y'alright?"

I ignored his question and headed for the solitude of my room.

"Oi, I'm fuckin' talking to you." Butcher barked, and I heard his boots stomp in my direction. He wrapped a large hand around my arm, spinning me around. "Don't ever fuckin' do that again, ya' hear? You 'bout did me fuckin' head in, running off like that."

Butcher's face was inches from mine, and his warm breath fanned out across my cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to flare. "I guess you forgot that I can take care of myself," I muttered bitterly as I wrenched my arm from his grasp and pushed the door open to my bedroom. Much to my dismay, Butcher followed me in.

"What's with the fuckin' attitude?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "You're acting like a right twat."

I whirled around as I threw my bag onto the floor, my nostrils flaring. "Oh, so you're allowed to have an attitude, but I'm not?" I glared daggers at him. "Get out."

"No. We're gonna talk," Butcher pressed, standing his ground.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, too fuckin' bad, sweetheart. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what kind of stick is up your bum, and why the bloody hell you fucked off for three days without telling anyone."

"It's a free country, and I'm allowed to go where I please," I shot back. "Besides, I figured I'd give you all a break from carrying my dead weight around. I hear it can be quite tiring."

Butcher's mouth opened before he closed it, taking a beat before speaking, "S’that’s what this is about, eh? The fact that I called you dead weight the other night? No offense, love. But if a comment like that was enough to drive ya' out of town, you've gotten too sensitive."

"It wasn't just that one comment, William. It's the fact that you've been terrible to me for weeks now, and the shittiest part of it all is that I have no idea what I've done to deserve it!" I exclaimed, panting slightly as my shoulders rose and fell. Butcher raised a brow, and I scoffed, flopping on the bed. "Forget it. Now, would you mind kindly fucking off and leaving me alone?"

I turned away, and Bucther sighed quietly. A couple of seconds passed before the bed dipped behind me.

"M'sorry, alright?" he said quietly.

"Whatever, I don't even care anymore," I muttered, picking at the skin on the side of my nail.

"Yes, ya’ do."

My stomach flipped as Butcher carefully reached up and brushed the hair off my shoulder. "I didn't realize I was hurting ya' so much. I thought I was doing what was best."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, turning back to face him. A calloused finger traced my cheek before his hand fell limply in his lap. Even though Butcher never slept more than a couple of hours a night, this was the first time I'd seen him look truly tired.

"I needed to push you away, and I figured a bit of tough love would do the trick." Butcher's hazel eyes met mine. "I realize I may've gone a bit too far."

"But why would you want to push me away? I thought we worked well together." My voice grew softer. "I thought you liked me."

"Oh, love, my feelings for you go way beyond like."

My thoughts became jumbled as I tried to comprehend what Butcher was saying, and I struggled to form a response, but it all ceased when he cupped my face in his hand. I instinctually leaned into his touch, and my eyes drooped, feeling serenity from the simple contact.

"M'sorry. M'so fucking sorry," Butcher apologized again. But this time, I saw emotion in his eyes. "You're the most precious thing in my life, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt ya'."

His lips gently grazed my forehead, placing a soft kiss there before continuing. “I'm no good for ya', doll. God only knows I'd fuck up an angel like you. In me own messed up head, pushing you away was the only way I could protect ya'."

"That's not true," I whispered, shaking my head, but Butcher didn't look convinced. "And even if it were true, I wouldn't care because I'm no saint either."

It was quiet between us, and our breaths were the only thing filling the small space. My gaze roamed Butcher's face before it fell on his lips, and I swallowed audibly.

"I want you, Billy."

Butcher looked torn. There was a deep crease between his brows, and his breathing grew quick as the seconds ticked by.

"I'll ruin you." His voice was rough, full of gravel.

"I'm already ruined."

Butcher's resolve began to fray before it split wide open, and his lips crashed into mine.

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not my best work, but i hope you enjoyed it!

-xoxo

#billy butcher #billy butcher brainrot go brr #the boys billy butcher #billy butcher the boys #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban try not to serve challenge #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher fic

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my-smial · 3 months

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Hello hello. I have come with random The Sunshine Court language headcanons for Jean Moreau, because I cannot stop thinking about him.

Neil picks up on Jean's discomfort with speaking French at higher than a whisper and eventually decides to use Nicky's desensitization tactics about it. He ropes in Kevin, and the two of them will not stop yelling at him in French until Jean stops flinching whenever he hears it.

Neil lived in Montreal for 8 months; when he wants to get under Jean's skin, he switches to a strong Québécois accent and Jean acts like his ears are getting burned off.

Jeremy and a little Cat and Laila start learning French, mostly "picked up a tourist phrasebook at the library" level. It's 2008, they don't even have Duolingo. It's years and years before Jean deigns to actually speak French to him, but Jeremy eventually figures out that if he pronounces a phrase badly enough, Jean will correct him out of shear pain. Jean probably picks up that Jeremy knows more than he's letting on when he makes a comment in one of Jean and Kevin's conversations.

The most unlikely, but I find it fun: Jean's family is old money enough that they actually still speak the local Provençal language of southeast France. Jean mostly speaks standard French, but his parents ensured that he can carry a conversation in Provençal out of some twisted disdain for Paris as a power center. Evidence: this is also the kind of person who would name their child Jean-Yves, lmao, a name that was most popular in the 1960s.

Matching with 4, growing up speaking French, Provençal, and English in a massive port city means that Jean can get through a few phrases in most western Mediterranean languages. In addition, being raised as the theoretical heir to a smuggling empire meant he had to learn enough languages to "not get ripped off," as his father would say. He says he speaks 3 languages, because he's fluent in 3 (and it's common to consider Provençal just a backwards dialect, not a full language). But he can also understand random bits of Italian, Spanish, and Algerian Arabic. Some he learned formally, some he picked up from other kids while playing little league exy.

When he gets comfortable on the Trojan's court, he starts yelling back sometimes when little multilingual groups form and chatter, and every time he demonstrates a new language the Trojans lose their shit. Jean has his typical disdain for their excitement; his childhood exy court sounded exactly like this and he doesn't get why they're so impressed.

They keep pulling the "sorry, he doesn't speak English" trick to get annoying fans and reporters off their back for a long time after it should have stopped working. He's given full interviews, come on. Use your brain.

#the sunshine court #jean moreau #sorry i am still on my bs about this book #also not to be dismissive about it in fandom headcanons BUT proveçal and most other regional French languages are seriously endangered #due precisely to Parisian hegemony and a rigidly enforced national identity codified in the schooling system #regional languages are important

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poetskings · 6 months

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@jegulus-microfic | april 5: slap | 1.1k words

James watches on as Regulus plays a card game, surrounded by the family that they have created.

James leans against the doorframe, sipping on a lukewarm cider as he watches Regulus, who’s sitting cross legged in the centre of their living room. He’s in one of James’ old sweaters, the sleeves rolled up to stop them from covering his hands.

James is so in love with him.

Regulus glows, sat surrounded by the people that they love. This is a home that they have created for each other, with each other.

In his hands are two cards, and he watches Remus and Pandora carefully. James knows that he has a +4 and a reverse left, and James is almost certain that he’s going to win.

Remus places down a yellow +2, smirking as Sirius hooks his head over his partner’s shoulder.

Pandora only giggles, placing down another +2, leaving Regulus to slap his +4 down, screaming ‘uno’ before anyone else can place their cards.

He is delighted, his legs uncrossing as he rocks back gently.

“You prick,” Sirius calls, having taken Remus’ side as his partner begrudgingly picks up his ten new cards, grumbling good-naturedly about it.

“Sorry your boyfriend’s a loser, Siri,” Regulus taunts back. He is looser than normal, a glass of wine in his hands that he’s been sipping from intermittently, but he’s not drunk. He’s just comfortable.

Sirius scowls at his brother as Remus plays a green 3, Pandora laying a green 7 and allowing Regulus to place his green Reverse down, declaring him the winner.

There are cheers released from Regulus and his corner, with Mary and Evan having decided early on that Regulus was going to win. James thinks he can see money changing hands between Peter and Marlene, but that’s between them.

Barty and Lily join him, the smell of smoke clinging to their clothes. They’ve come in from the fire escape, James thinks.

“Odd to see you hanging around at the edges of a party,” Barty comments, but James knows he doesn’t mean anything by it.

“Reg is enjoying himself. Didn’t want to interrupt.” James shrugs his shoulders, acting nonchalant.

“You’re good for him, you know?” That makes James pause. Barty’s been hesitant to show James anything other than casual apathy since the pair started dating. “He has people who love him, and that hasn’t changed, but I think you make him aware that it’s okay to accept that love. He’s been in Sirius’ shadow for as long as I’ve known him, and he’s always felt like he’s second choice, but you give him space to be himself. You’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to be Sirius to be loved.”

A distressed noise claws its way out of James’ throat, and Barty pats him on the back before stealing his cider and moving to reclaim a seat near Evan. Lily moves to take his place at James’ side.

“Barty’s right, James. But I also think he’s good for you, too. If he weren’t here you’d be forcing yourself into the centre of the room, even if you needed a break. He lets you switch off, and he doesn’t expect anything from you. I think we take you for granted, sometimes, but he doesn’t.” She turns her head to focus back on the group, and James follows her gaze.

Regulus is looking back at them, mouthing ‘you okay?’ to James. He nods his head in response, but Regulus stands up anyway, heading over to the pair.

“Hey, Lily, I think Pandora needs someone to commiserate with her after her frankly embarrassing Uno performance,” Regulus says, gently teasing his best friend’s failure.

The trio looks over to Pandora, where she’s reading the lines on Sirius’ palm, the two gossiping intently with their heads close together as Remus overlooks the pair, a fond smile on his face. “Oh, she looks positively devastated,” Lily jokes, but heads over to her girlfriend nonetheless. “Look after James, Reg,” she calls over her shoulder.

Regulus takes James’ hand, moving him out of the front room and back through the kitchen, leaving his wine on the side before crawling out the window to take a seat in the fire escape.

James has no choice but to follow him. Wherever Regulus goes, James will always follow.

“Congrats on winning Uno – a truly impressive performance,” James comments, a smirk falling over his face.

Regulus sniggers as he draws two cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. “I hope Mary made a killing. Peter should’ve known better than to bet on Remus – he’s useless at card games.”

Wordlessly, Regulus hands a cigarette over to James, cupping a hand around it as he lights it before turning his attention to his own.

The pair smoke in silence. They don’t need words. They never have.

“I love you, Jamie.” Regulus is stubbing his cigarette out as he says this, but it doesn’t dampen the significance of the moment.

Those words are always significant to James. Regulus is sparing with them; hesitant to express his emotions with words. It’s okay; he shows James that he loves him in a million other ways, but sometimes James needs to hear it.

This is one of those times, and Regulus knows. Regulus always knows.

James doesn’t say anything back; doesn’t have to.

He stubs his cigarette out, leaning over to kiss his boyfriend. It’s soft, tender. Regulus tastes of smoke and red wine, and James loves him.

Regulus pulls back, resting his forehead against James’ before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, to his cheek, to his forehead. “Let’s go back inside.”

James registers the goose bumps that have appeared on his arm, and he nods.

The couple head back in to rejoin their friends. The living room has a warm glow to it, filled with life and laughter and so much love.

“Welcome back, you two,” Remus comments, dropping down from the sofa where he’d taken up residence to sit beside Sirius.

“I hope neither of you were doing anything untoward.” Sirius looks over at them, an eyebrow raising. Regulus only raises an eyebrow in return.

“Piss off, Siri, everyone knows that if anyone’s going to do anything untoward on a fire escape it’s you and Remus,” Regulus bites at his brother, but there’s no real anger in it.

Peter releases a bark of laughter as Sirius buries his face in Remus’ chest. Regulus has won this round.

James draws his boyfriend across the living room, to the sofa that Remus has just evacuated, and the pair curl up together. It’s instinctual, as easy as breathing. Regulus fits himself to James and James fits himself to Regulus. They are two parts of the same whole; two parts of the same soul.

James rests his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and looks out at his friends, at his family.

Regulus is in his arms and he is home.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #marauders #marauders era #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #dead gay wizards #si writes

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stvolanis · 8 months

Note

i loveeeeee ur writing ah!!!!! just read ur most recent farleigh one and i was foaming at the mouth <3 idk if ur reqs are open but i cant stop thinking about being in a situationship with farleigh and finally getting sick of it, u break up with him and hes like ‘?? whatever’ thinking that u will come back but when u dont after a few days/weeks he starts lowkey panicking and basically begging u to take him back… just need him crying begging and being pathetic <3 rlly making him beg for it and purposely making him jealous with other guys just to make him suffer :p then when u finally decide to forgive him he fucks u crazy good and RAW 💕

Thank you so much! Also, sorry if this isn’t like EXACTLY what you wanted D:

Love & War

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, situationship, toxic! Farleigh, mentions of drugs & alcohol, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, crying

NSFW WARNINGS: Switch! Farleigh, Switch! Reader, choking, spitting, tummy bulge, face sitting, breath play, slight size kink, slapping, degradation, praise, dumbification

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start was a cunning, asshole of a man. You’d know, because you’ve been in love with him since you’re late highschool days.

Well—you didn’t know him personally till you both started attending Oxford. You admired him from a distance, as did many other people. You were never popular enough to bask in his limelight. You only ever dreamed of being with someone as amazing as him.

You thought Farleigh had no idea who you were, and truth be told, he didn’t. But he knew of you. He seen you everywhere, always somehow where he was. You were pretty, probably the most prettiest girl he’d ever seen; you were just so quiet. He knew that the people he hung around would eat you alive. You wouldn’t survive in his world.

So, he never dragged you into it. He watched you from afar for years, both of you unknowingly having feelings for each other. Deep down inside, Farleigh knew his friends weren’t the only reason he couldn’t be with you. He, himself had many issues of his own. One of the worst ones being his fear of rejection, and the second runner up; his pride. Always held so high, never coming down for anyone. It would get him hurt one day, but he’d have to realize that on his own.

When you began attending Oxford, you became friends with Oliver, who had become friends with Felix. He was your ticket into the “in crowd”, as you liked to call it.

You attended parties, stuck around for drinks and quickly grew popularity of your own. This didn’t go unnoticed by Farleigh, who you finally, after years of silence, began to talk to.

It was everything you imagined. He was nice, funny, a bit of a bitch in just the right way. Even when you were in a group of people, your eyes somehow always found his. The two of you would sneak away together, talk about nothing aimlessly for hours on end. Counting stars as you rambled about your favorite constellation.

At night, you’d meet at the bridge, sit on the edge in complete silence just to be in each others presence. Your hands would meet, and electricity sparked through your body. He made you feel like you were walking on clouds, and there was never a dim day when you were with him.

He was charismatic, confident, charming—everything you wanted to be. You were complete opposites of each other, but in just the right way to balance each other out. He noted every little thing about you, so much so that he began to do some of the things you did.

He’d use the dorky slang you used subconsciously when talking to other people, or start playing with the pretty rings on his finger like you told him you did when you got nervous. He listened to the music you recommend him, and connected the dots as to why you liked those songs. It all made sense, they explained you perfectly.

Everything was going great, till it wasn’t.

You didn’t know how it happened, or why, or maybe even what you could’ve done that changed him—but suddenly, he started acting different around you. The time you spent together was shortening and as were his touched and glances.

And the worst part about it? You weren’t in a relationship. You never where, but everyone just kinda knew that you were Farleighs’, and Farleigh was yours. No one ever questioned it, not even you, till now.

As you sat across Farleigh at the pub, playing with the flimsy black straw in your cocktail. You were so tired of him and his hot and cold actions and words. First moment he wanted you, and the next, he acts like he doesn’t even know you. It hurts, and you were sick of it.

Farleigh was talking to Felix about their home in Saltburn and stupid stories of how they used to throw these ‘amazingly grand’ parties during the summer and breaks they had. You huffed, standing up before harshly pushing in your chair. Why did you have to sit here and deal with this fuckary if you didn’t have to? You deserved better than the half-assed shit he was barely even offering.

As you walked away from the table full of people, a certain pair of eyes followed you, but you’d rather have died than look back. You heard footsteps follow hastily behind you as you exited the pub, the cold air welcoming you as you shivered.

“What’s your problem?” He shouted from behind you. You laughed dryly, spinning around to face him on your heel. “Oh you must be fucking kidding.” You laughed out. “My problem? No, what the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back at him.

“You’re the one who stormed off like a damn toddler! So enlighten me.” He fired back at you with furrowed brows. You felt your eyes water. God, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it hurt so badly. “Farleigh…why are you being like this?” You muttered.

He groaned as he ran a hand down is face. “Jesus, what are you on about?” He yelled out. “You keep leading me on!! I don’t understand it. You want me one second and the next you don’t!” You yelled back, pausing for a moment.

“You act like you love me and leave me the next second and it hurts, Farleigh. You hurt me!” You sobbed out, wiping your tears from your cheeks with your sleeve. He was taken aback for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Almost as it he was at a loss for words. “That’s not—no, I didn’t—“ he started, but you cut him off as he reached to grab you.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is done. It’s over.” You said as you back away from him. Something inside of him snapped, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and eyes hardened. “Fine. Go on then. See if I give a fuck.” He chuckled out, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out his mouth. After everything you’ve said and done together, he has the audacity to act like he’s the superior one in this situation? It was the icing on the cake for you.

Tears ran down your face, and as they hit the ground, Farleigh felt his heart clench. Never did he wanna hurt you, but it’s what he had to do, or so he thought. He was gonna have to leave to go back to Saltburn with Felix in a month, and he couldn’t bring himself to take you.

Yes, he had fun times at Saltburn—but his family was crazy, rich, narcissistic assholes and he didn’t want you around them. More over, he didn’t want someone like Venetia to corrupt you in that way. He didn’t want you to become like her.

He knew he was being a dick, distancing himself from you. And he planned to keep it that way, but god, you made it nearly impossible to stay away. You were so inviting, how could he not succumb to his urges when it comes to you? He knew better, but he felt on top of the world when he was with you and he didn’t wanna let that go.

Watching you walk away from him right now made tears form in his own eyes, but all he could do is watch as you slipped further and further away from him. And he knew it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t communicate to you what the problem with himself was. He felt like such a coward, but he refused to hurt you more than he already had.

It had only been two weeks since you and Farleigh fell off. It was hard for you, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but it was needed. You knew that.

When you stopped talking to him, you continued being friends with Felix and Oliver, but it was a nuisance. You were trying your hardest to forget about the tall, curly haired man and move on with your life, but they nearly made it impossible.

When you would all hang out, other friends included, Farleigh would show up and say act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Felix and Oliver weren’t dumb, Farleigh was the one who came crying to them about what had happened. They seen right through Farleighs facade, acting as if he’s okay.

They were doing this kind of stuff on purpose, casually. Asking you about Farleigh, or bringing him up in conversation. They wanted you to give Farleigh another shot, but you gave him one too many chances to redeem himself, and you weren’t having it.

Felix invited you to one of his little frat parties, and I say little very lightly, because everyone knows the entire campus attends his parties.

You had no interest, but Oliver had insisted on you coming. Making it his mission to drag you out of the comfort of your bed. “You need this.” He insisted as he dug through your clothes. He pulled out an ed-hardy, strapless dress and some red platformed boots. “Oh this is fuckin’ perfect, love.” He smiled as he held it up to you.

“I dunno, Ollie. I don’t think I should go..” you muttered as you sat down on the edge of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Oliver sighed. “Cmon, just let loose tonight. You’ve been moping around for like ever!” He huffed out, yet a smile returning to his face as he held up some jewelry. “These’ll go good with it.” He urged.

You groaned and got up, snatching the clothes and jewelry out of his hands. “Out.” You grumbled. Oliver clapped his hands excitedly as he stepped out so you could get dressed.

The ed-hardy dress he chose for you hugged your curves in all the right places, your tits pushed together with the small padding built into the dress. You let Oliver back in and his jaw dropped. “You look fucking edible! Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, yet a smile danced on your lips. Oliver always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation, and you loved him for that. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” You laughed, he nodded his head.

When you arrived to the party, the lights were flashing different colors. Red, blue, green, etc. it reflected off of Felixs’ shirt as he approached you, Farleigh following next to him. You clicked your tongue and looked around for an exit.

A boy caught your eye. You’d seen him around the campus, he was friends with Felix a while ago but Farleigh didn’t like him, which ended with Felix ending their friendship. Nathan, was his name, you thought as you approached him.

His eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin top part of your dress. “Hey.” You purred, batting your lashes up at him. He smiled. He was handsome, you had to admit—but no where near as handsome as Farleigh.

You shook your head from the thought, directing your attention back to the mediocre boy in front of you. “Hey, baby.” He whistled out. You giggled, obviously fake, but he couldn’t tell; most likely strung out on cocaine and alcohol.

His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you to him. He was disgustingly sweaty and reeked of cheap cologne, almost as if he poured the whole bottle on himself. Sickeningly too strong, making you gag. You forced yourself to ignore it, instead focusing on the way his hands cupped your ass in your dress.

You turned around, your back pressed to his front, only to be met with Farleighs eyes from across the body-filled room. He was staring at you, then down to the hands around your waist, and his jaw clenched. Anger, betrayal and hurt was all Farleigh felt as he watched some stranger feel you up.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He brought this upon himself, and he knew that. But he also knew he’d do anything for your forgiveness, so he marched his way over to where you stood. You knew you should have ran away, but you didn’t.

You let him rip you away from the stranger holding you. You let him drag you all the way back to your dorm silently, a painfully tight grip on your upper arm the whole way there. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Once you reached your dorm, he slammed you against the door that was now shut. “What the fuck was that, hm?” He muttered. But something was different. His voice, still hard, wavered and you noticed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered.

All the sudden, he broke down. The tall boy, usually filled with confidence and pride fell to his knees before you with a small, barely noticeable sob. You stood there, unknowing of what to do, or what to say. This was new territory for you.

“M’sorry, baby. Please—“ he said through his tears. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Know I was I piece of shit, I’m sorry.” He repeated the words you longed to hear over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He said. Those two words weren’t ever said enough from him, and you basked in every moment he said it. It made you feel a sense of power over him.

You turned his arrogant, cocky ass into a whiney little boy begging for your forgiveness at your feet and, nasty enough, you fucking loved it. You loved that only you were able to bring him to his knees like this.

“Oh, You’re sorry? Hm?” You cooed down at him, running your fingers through his curly hair. He sniffled as he looked up at you, his pretty lashes wet with tears. “So fuckin’ sorry. Promise I’ll be better.” He muttered out, hugging your stomach.

“Prove it.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands as he looked up at you again. “What?” He muttered. You smiled. “Get on the bed.” was all you said.

He nodded before climbing onto the bed, laying on his back. “What—“ he started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Eat my pussy good, make me cum with your mouth and then I’ll forgive you.” You said. He sat up on his elbows and watched you undress through hooded eyes, till you were wearing absolutely nothing.

Your nipples grew hard under the cold air, and the wetness between your thighs he could see from where he lied on your bed; it glistened in the dim light of your bedroom. Your lips were glossy and plump as your tongue glided over them, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

You climbed on top of him, hovering your pussy over his face. His mouth watered at the sight, and he gripped his cock through his pants. Your lowered yourself onto him till your full weight rested on his face.

He began lapping at your cunt with everything he had. Licking and slurping at your juices that ran down his chin. You tasted like heaven on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. You were the drug in him, and he was going fucking wild.

He was a starved man, and it had been too long since he had you like this. He whined when you lifted off of his face, pushing his head back down when he tries to extend his neck to connect his mouth to your pussy again desperately.

You click your tongue. “So desperate, hm?” You mocked with a laugh. Farleigh played nice long enough, you were holding up his meal, and he didn’t like it. “M’not fuckin done.” He growled out. You let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around your thighs, slamming you back down onto his mouth.

You moaned out as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. “Farleigh!” You yelped. He groaned into your messy cunt, sending vibrations through it that had your head falling back. “Perfect little cunt.” He said, Voice muffled by your pussy.

His laps at your cunt more erratic as your moans became more high pitched, signaling that you were on the verge of your orgasm. Your hips moved against his face, your hands entangling themselves in his hair as you glided your cunt across his tongue.

“M’gonna cum, oh my god—“ you moaned out as you squeezed your breast. Farleigh moaned. “Cum on my fuckin’ tongue. Good girl” He grumbled against you as you felt a wave of pleasure roll off of you. The little pinch in your stomach finally releasing into that delicious orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

Farleigh was drowning in your juices, slurping and licking, taking everything you had to offer. He let you ride out your orgasm, your little clit bumping his nose in just the right way, your moans growing lower as you came down from your high breathlessly.

“M not done with you. Actin like a fuckin slut, letting that motherfucker touch you.” He said through clenched teeth as flipped you around onto your back, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

He lined his cock to your entrance, clenching around nothing. He smeared his pre-cum around your folds before slowly, almost teasingly, sinking into you. You felt him fill you so full of him, almost painfully. The sting was so agonizingly good, and you wanted more.

When he bottomed out in you, his bottom lip was between his teeth, biting down so hard he nearly drew blood. You yelped when he lifted his hips before harshly slamming himself back into you, over and over again.

His pace began to pick up, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass loudly. You gripped around him firmly, so much so that he could barely pull out of you. It made him wince, but he wanted this more than anything. He’s been craving this since you left him; he jacked himself off at night to the thought of being in your warmth.

His hand found it’s way to your throat, gripping tightly. “Take this cock, baby. Know this slutty pussy can take it.” He muttered as pried your mouth open with his thumb. He spit into your mouth, lightly slapping the side of your face, signaling for you to swallow, to which you did.

You felt so small beneath him as he pounded relentlessly into you, the grip on your throat never wavering. His groans were like music to your ear, and the sudden flip in him turned you on to no extent. It was fucking perfect how he could be so needy in two different ways. First, begging for anything you’ll give him, and the next, taking what he wanted from you desperately.

“You with me, honey?” He moaned out against your ear. You mumbled incoherently, your words slurring together. You couldn’t focus enough to form a sentence with the way he was fucking you, your mind going blank. “Fucked you dumb. My stupid little whore.” He mocked as his hips stuttered against yours.

You knew he was close by the way he throbbed and swelled inside you, squeezing down onto him more as he hit that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped onto Farleighs wrist that held your neck, heels digging into his back.

His breathing was uneven and both of your bodies were sweaty messes together, but what really had you in a chokehold was the way that even when he was dominating you, his whimpers never stopped. Still so needy for your cunt as you let him take what he needed from you helplessly.

He came deep inside of you, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. His hips stilled against you, making sure to stuff you full of his cum, not wanting any of it to go to waste. When he finally released your neck, you looked down to where you were connected but your eyes froze on the sight before you.

His tamed mound of hair above his cock was soaked with your juices, but what really got you, was the evident bulge showing through your stomach. He grabbed your hand, holding it onto your stomach where the bulge of his cock was. “Feel that? Remember, only I can fuck you this good.” He spat out as he pressed down, and you released a moan at the sensation.

His free hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing harshly and fast. “Gonna cum, please, can I cum?” You whimpered out as you clenched the sheets beneath you. Farleigh nodded feverishly. “Cum for me, be a good girl.” He muttered as he slowly fucked his cock into you at just the right pace.

The way he dragged along your walls, paired with the stimulation on your swollen clit, deprived clit had you reaching for the moon as you came for a second time tonight. Your mouth hung agape, not a word slipping out as a breathless moan slid past your plump lips. You needed this. You’d been craving this, and you finally got it.

Farleigh nestled himself in you, leaning his head down till his forehead was pressed against yours. Your hair was matted to your forehead from sweat, as was Farleighs, but you didn’t care. It was the least of your concerns. All you wanted was him, and you finally had him again, and this time it actually felt right.

But the words he spoke was what sealed the deal for you.

“I love you, y/n. From the moment I seen you sitting alone at lunch when we we’re sophomores back in Highschool, I’ve loved you. I loved you when you were small, shy and quiet, barely knowing anyone; and I love you now when you’re the socialist butterfly I know. I love you when you laugh, when you smile, when you speak, and even when you cry.” He said, tears running down your face.

“I will always love you.” He finished, kissing the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

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helen-with-an-a · 6 months

Text

I am an Adult pt 3

Hi. So I wasn't planning to do a part 3 of the series but I got a request and it was really cute/funny so I thought why not ahaha.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Word Count: 3.3k

Description: R gets a girlfriend

It took a lot of work to find the right balance. The give and take, knowing where to push and where to pull. That fine line between knowing when to go to the team for help and doing it yourself.

After the events of last Spring, you had been better at relying on the girls for essential things, and they had been better at asking you about them without nagging. You sent a picture of critical legal dates to Alexia, who would set a reminder to ask you about them a week or so before the actual deadline. Lucy helped you figure out meals if you asked for them. Irene helped you stock and restock your pantry and cupboards throughout your house when you were stuck on what to keep multiple or spares of. Marta helped out with your schedule if you felt a little overwhelmed. They felt like they were checking up on you and helping you without you feeling smothered. It was fantastic.

And then you got a girlfriend.

Initially, Your crush was slight, something you could repress and squash down. But then you played her in the Champions League group stages. Wolfsburg and Barcelona were drawn in the same group by some bizarre coincidence or the universe interfering in your love life.

Lena was so sweet and kind; it was crazy. You first interacted when you had to do some media together. UEFA media decided to do ‘head-to-head’ videos where some players from each team had to do videos, interviews, and challenges together. And with another stroke of luck – or divine intervention once again – you and Lena were paired together. You were caught off guard by how gentle she was. On the pitch, she was a force to be reckoned with solid tackles and her fearlessness of a yellow card. That was the only impression you had of her. Of course, you had stalked her social media for months, so you knew she seemed like a fantastic friend. But off the pitch, it was like a switch had flipped. She was so soft, it was unreal – always asking if you were ok with the questions she was asking and checking in with you after challenges. It was making your head spin in the most fantastic way.

“What do I do?” You asked Ona over coffee. She was the one person you trusted with this secret.

“Well, well, well. Where has the confident, cocky, ‘I’m so good with girls’ Y/N gone?” She joked. You had never experienced these feelings before, and you were panicking slightly.

“Ugh, never mind. If you’re just going to make fun of me-” you shook your head, starting to gather your things.

“No, wait, hey, c’mon. Do you seriously like her?” Ona grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

“I … I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t do relationships. I never have. It’s just been one-night stands and friends-with-benefit type things. Casual sex. Never anything more. I don’t do more.”

“Well, neither do I,” Ona cut in. You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Want me to tell that to Lucy?” You said sarcastically, chuckling at her deep blush. “Ona, c’mon, I’m serious. I really like her,” you all but begged.

“Ok, ok. No hay necesidad de preocuparse. If you really like her, just ask her out for coffee, or dinner, or to the movies, or something. Just be your normal self. You know you have game. I’ve seen the number of girls you’ve brought back after nights out. So just be your charming self, flirt a little, and ask her on a date.” You nodded at her words. Flirting, you could do. Charming, you could do. Asking her out on a date … you hoped you could do.

You asked her out after the first leg. It was in Barcelona, so you messaged her to see if she wanted to see the sights. You knew she wasn’t going home until 2 days after the match, so on her off-day. You knew it was slightly unconventional to ask someone out via text, but you think you might never do it if you asked in person.

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u want to go to see some stuff in Barcelona with me on ur day off?? x

L💚: By rselves? Like a date???

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would u like to go on a date with me on ur day off??

L💚: Yes

L💚: I’ll send you the hotel details. I could meet u at like 10? 11?

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll pick u up at 10 outside the hotel – wear comfy shoes!!! <3

L💚: Can’t wait 😁

The day was beautiful; you took her to a little bakery for breakfast – laughing a few hours away over good coffee and excellent food. You then spent the morning doing the touristy things before having lunch at a tapas place, again not noticing the time passing as you giggled and sent longing stares at each other. The afternoon was filled with more happiness as you showed her the quieter spots and your favourite places to relax. Dinner was a classic paella, finally drawing up the courage to hold her hand on your way back to drop her off.

You were just around the corner from her hotel when you pulled her to stop.

“Um … I had a perfect day today.” You said as you shuffled closer,

“Me too,” she replied, softly pushing some hair away from your face. You licked your lips, staring at hers. She slowly leant in, her eyes flicking between your lips and eyes. You leant in, too; you were so close to kissing her – one slight adjustment at you would be.

A car horn sounded right next to you, making you both spring apart. Fuck!

“I … um … I better get going,” Lena said, gesturing towards the hotel. You could tell she was a little disappointed

“Yeh, no, I get it. Just … text me, yeh? Maybe you could show me around Wolfsburg when we travel to you guys?” you said nervously, not meeting her warm brown eyes.

“Hey,” she called softly, using her free hand to grasp your chin and make you look into her eyes. “I will absolutely be showing you around my home. We will definitely be doing this again,” she said with certainty. You felt your heart jump at the idea of a second date with Lena. She squeezed your hand before she left, looking back with a soft smile as she went.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’: https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

After the second leg, Lena took you to a Christmas Market, saying that even though it was only November, you had to experience one. It was lovely. You laughed, ate too much food, and drank too much hot chocolate and mulled wine. As she took you back to your hotel, you came to a stop, much like you had in Barcelona.

“Can I actually kiss you this time?” You asked her.

“Bitte Küsse mich.” You didn’t speak German, but she clarified her intentions as she put a hand on your hip, shuffling closer until your breaths mingled. Her lips were soft and rough and warm and cold all at once. It was perfect. The world stopped spinning momentarily as you slowly let your tongue explore.

“Mein Gott” she said as you parted.

“Guess I’m going to need German lessons.” You laughed, pressing your lips back on hers.

“Don’t worry, I know a willing teacher,” she said as you separated again.

Your relationship was semi-secret; text exchanges left you giddy, hushed phone calls left you too-smiley, and facetimes were taken as you hurried from the rooms. Everyone could tell something was different, and most people could guess that it was probably down to a person; they just couldn’t figure out who.

“Alright, out with it. Who’s got you so smiley?” Patri asked as she sat on your sofa. You were having a younger girls' night—like you do most evenings. Patri, Pina, Esmee, Ona, Jana, Martina, Vicky, Bruna, Cata … it was a bit of a squeeze in your one-bedroom flat, but you made it work.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you smiled into your glass.

“Oh, please. You’ve been smiling away, laughing, and being disgustingly cute. Who is it?” Jana swatted your thigh at your non-answer.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Don’t make us do detective work!” Martina threatened, pulling up her phone and going onto your social media.

“It’s recent, so check who she’s recently started following,” Vicky suggested. You were so grateful that you had been following Lena for years since you had played against her at club and national levels.

“It happened after the group stages,” Ona chimed in. You threw her an offended glare. You knew she wouldn’t actively spill your secret, but you had hoped she wouldn’t join in on the hunt for the identity of your girlfriend.

“You know something, Ona!” Pina accused, a finger coming to point at her. “You know who it is, don’t you?” They soon switched from interrogating you to Ona. Logically, it was the smartest move; Ona could crack very easily. It’s how you found out about Lucy – you had just narrowed your eyes at her for slightly too long, and she broke, spilling everything to you when she stayed the night a few months ago. You watched, somewhat amused, as Ona squirmed, avoiding eye contact, ducking her head, biting her lip. She was close to spilling everything. You knew she was terrified of telling secrets that weren’t hers, but she couldn’t help it.

“Alright, guys. Enough. Stop interrogating her.” You broke up the onslaught of questions, moving from your sofa seat to the chair she was curling up in. You could tell she was close to tears, and you didn’t want to do that to her – you knew she already felt guilty enough. You shuffled her around a bit before pulling her onto your lap.

“Right, you get 5 hints. If you can’t guess it from them, then I can’t help you. And no more asking Ona!” You glared at them all, ensuring they understood how serious you were. “Right, she’s German. She plays in Germany. She’s a midfielder. We’re similar ages. She’s made her senior international debut in 2019.” You watched as the group dissolved into loud discussion.

“Lo siento mucho. No querías que nadie lo supiera y ahora...” Ona hurried out, close to tears again.

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s ok, Oni,” you reassured her as you kissed her forehead. “No es tu culpa. I promise you. I do not blame you.” She nodded and buried her head back against your collarbone, watching the carnage in front of you. You quietly laughed to each other at the scene – Wikipedia was pulled up on everyone’s phones, the German national team website as well as they speculated on who you were seeing. You slowly pulled your phone out, quickly texting Lena.

[Initial]💙❤️: Like ½ my team are tryna guess my girlfriend rn x

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u mind if I say yes if they guess it right? x

L💚: ahahahahaha

L💚: No, I don’t mind. R u gonna tell them who I am if they get it wrong tho?

[Initial]💙❤️: Whichever u want x

[Initial]💙❤️: I don’t mind telling them x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would make it easier when I disappear to Germany for a few days and u suddenly turn up in my Barca jersey

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

L💚: also – I will never wear a barca jersey!!

L💚: Even if it does have ur name on the back 🤢

[Initial]💙❤️: ugh RUDE.

[Initial]💙❤️: But ud still be my WAG tho right? x

L💚: I’ll always be ur wag hehe

[Initial]💙❤️: so kind of u x

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll always be ur wag too btw x

“Alright, alright. We have 2 possible answers.” Bruna turned around with a notebook in her hand. Where did they get that from? “Our first guess, we think, is less likely. Klara Bühl. She’s German, plays for Bayern, is a midfielder, and debuted in 2019. You’re similar in age. But we haven’t played Bayern in a while. So, how would you have met? So, we don’t think it’s her.” She paused, staring at your carefully crafted neutral expression. You met Klara once; she was lovely. She handed the notebook over to Cata. “Our final guess is one we think is pretty true,” Cata explained, adjusting herself to sit cross-legged before you. “We played Wolfsburg at the Champions League group stages, and you disappeared for the whole day the day after and came back all smiley. So, we have reason to believe it’s a Wolfsburg player.” You didn’t realise how seriously they were taking this. “But … most of the Wolfsburg team are German, but not all of them are German midfielders that debuted for the national team in 2019.” She paused dramatically. You knew she had figured it out. “That’s why our final guess is …” another final pause.

“Oberdorf,” Patri shouted out, clearly over Cata’s dramatics. “You’re dating Oberdorf.”

“Oi. Aquesta havia de ser la meva revelació” Cata lunged at Patri, loud shouts of Catalan descending on the house.

“D'acord, d'acord,” you shouted over the noise as you saw a wine bottle wobble precariously as someone knocked into the table. “Sí, Lena is my girlfriend.” You admitted. If you thought the noise was loud before, you were deafened by the cacophony that descended on you. You buried your head in Ona’s hair, laughing as your friends melted into chaos.

You knew that once the younger ones found out who your girlfriend was, it was only a matter of time before the older ones did. You hadn’t expected it to be the next day, however. You were in the changing rooms, chatting to Patri and Pina as you prepared for the session ahead of you. The door banged open, and you were met with an outraged Lucy. As she stalked towards you, you glanced at a very guilty-looking Ona.

“She looked at me.” Ona defended herself.

“Grow a backbone, Oni.” You shouted as Lucy dragged you from the room, remembering to add a nickname in so she knew you weren’t that mad at her.

You were dragged to an empty conference room. Alexia, Paños, Marta, Mariona, Caro, and Irene were already sitting on one side of the table. Lucy pushed you into the single seat opposite them and took her place next to Irene. You sat in silence for a full 3 minutes before anyone spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell us, cariño?” Alexia asked smoothly, folding her hands in front of her like she was conducting a business meeting.

“Ona needs to learn how to toughen up.” You weren’t too angry with Ona, but it slightly annoyed you that she had cracked so easily. You wanted to tell the older girls yourself to avoid this situation.

“Leave her out of it.” Lucy jumped in. You clicked your teeth at her, flicking your hand in her direction, dismissing her protest.

“You have a girlfriend,” Irene stated, bringing the conversation back on track.

“Ja, das tue ich,” you said, chuckling at their reaction to your German. They didn’t fully understand you but knew ‘yes’ in most languages. You could see Caro laughing slightly – she had played for Wolfsburg; she knew you were using your newfound language to irritate them.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Marta asked

“Ja, das ist richtig,” you smiled.

“Cut the crap, pequeña.” Paños hit the table, making you jump slightly.

“Bien. Si tanto quieres saber,” you snapped. “Yes, I have a girlfriend. I’m sure you already know who, but it’s Lena. I asked her out after our home Wolfsburg game. She asked me out after her home leg. We’ve been dating for a couple of months now. I really like her. Anything else you want to know?” You asked Alexia directly. You could see the internal battle – the desire to know everything about your new relationship with her promise to treat you more grown up.

“Everyone, out,” Alexia instructed after a minute, using her captain’s voice to show she was serious. “Cariño, please stay?” She asked. You nodded as the others left. Caro seemed to find this whole thing funny, but everyone else was grumbling and muttering about how they found it rude that you didn’t tell them and that you were too young for a girlfriend. “I thought we promised to tell each other things like adults?” She asked you.

“I know. The others only found out yesterday if it makes you feel any better. Ona’s known for a while, but only because I asked her for help.” You sat back in your chair, careful to leave your posture open.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She seemed a little upset by your actions.

“I didn’t want this to happen. We’ve finally found a balance. And I knew that this would disrupt that balance. And it’s so new; I didn’t want to tell you guys until I knew what we were, and it’s only really been a few months. She asked me to be her girlfriend at New Year’s, so …” you trailed off, hoping that she understood where you were coming from.”

“Entenc. But cariño, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked again.

“I … I don’t know.” You did know. You knew exactly why you didn’t tell her. And she knew it, too. “Ok … well … I didn’t … I didn’t want you to treat me like a child again. Relationships are new to me. I can do the … physical …” you both cringed slightly, not entirely comfortable with those topics just yet, “side of relationships fine. But emotions. They’re new to me. And I wanted to figure it out for myself first. I went to Ona ‘cos she’s my best friend. One that needs to learn how to resist interrogation better, but she’s still my best friend.”

“Don't be too hard on her, pequeña. She meant well. And I get why you didn’t come to me first. But can I ask a few questions?” She watched as you left your seat, coming around to her side of the table, and sitting on her lap.

You sighed, “ask away.” She laughed as she squeezed your waist.

“Does she treat you well?”

“Sí,” you answered honestly.

“Do you treat her well?”

“I think so. I hope so.” You smiled at her concern for Lena

“Can we meet her?”

“As long as you guys don’t give her the talk, then yes.” She leant back to look at your face.

“Can I give her the talk?” You sighed.

“Sí,” you relented, not missing the flicker of excitement that passed over her face.

“When is she coming to Barcelona?”

“Our way game Èl Clasíco matches with a free weekend for her. She’s meeting me in Madrid.” You laughed as she pushed you off her lap, standing up and rushing to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To prepare my speech. Alba never let me do a charla de hermana mayor to her partners, so this might be my only chance.” You laughed at her enthusiasm. She indeed was like your big sister – annoying most of the time, infuriating some of the time, but just a big, goofy kid at heart looking out for everyone around her.

[Initial]💙❤️: U might wanna prepare urself now x

L💚: WHY???

L💚: WHAT DID U DO????

[Initial]💙❤️: Alexia knows

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s very excited to meet my girlfriend x

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s planning a speech x

L💚: I am dead

L💚: I am going to die

L💚: Will u still love me if I’m dead????

[Initial]💙❤️: She wont kill u

[Initial]💙❤️: I wont let her xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes, I will still love u if ur dead xx

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

#barca femeni #woso community #woso #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf

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httpdwaekki · 4 months

Text

bright | h.h.

summary: you have a light sensitivity and forget your sunglasses but hyunjin is kind enough to give you his.

wc: 800

a/n: i wrote this in hopes to reach more of stayblr, the lovely @astraystayyh and many other wonderful writers (including myself) are writing requests for anyone that is willing to donate to her fundraiser to help people in gaza! all you have to do is donate and send proof to one of the writers along with your request! (please do make sure you read writers rules for requests first! and be aware they have a right to say no to the request.) remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

it wasn’t a secret that you had trouble with any kind of light, the sun, lamps, phone screens, etc.

sometimes you were okay but other times any type of light could cause a migraine unlike anything else. because of this you always kept a pair of sunglasses on you just in case.

well apparently not always, today you had rushed out the door to meet hyunjin, the shaded lens forgotten on your counter.

you were sat outside at a small cafe, waiting for hyunjin to return. both of you wanting to enjoy the last of the spring before the summer heat. you were oblivious to the missing object, opting to go without them for a bit, but that didn’t last long. soon after your eyes felt strained, a familiar dull ache presenting itself behind your left eye.

you look in through your bag, searching for the darker lens that weren’t there. you sigh, the ache still coming in waves, growing stronger with each one. luckily there was an umbrella so you decide to ignore it and enjoy your time with your boyfriend.

you place your bag back on your chair, as the pretty brunette approaches your table, drinks and food in hand. his signature versace glasses slipping down his nose, dopey grin present on his face as he places the tray on your table.

you return the grin, scrunching your nose as he flicks the glasses atop his head. he sets your drink and your food in front of you before sitting in the chair across from you. you both enjoy your drink and pastries, catching up and enjoying each others company.

the sun decided to shift, causing the sun to shine directly on you, the dull ache becoming sharper. you squint your eyes, attempting to hide the wince in pain with it. you place your hand above your eyes, giving yourself a bit of shade, focusing on hyunjin’s story.

“so he came to stay at our dorms for a bit to “escape the loud rage of felix because he sucks at league and it’s not changing anytime soon.” his words not mine.” he explains, as you giggle at the absurdity of his story. “ so seungmin’s solution was to go to the dorm that housed the loudest member in the whole group?” you asked, softly chuckling.

“that’s what i said!” you smile at his outburst, switching hands as your arm got tired. hyunjin tilts his head at the action. “angel?” you hum, looking at him, eyes squinted. “why don’t you put on your sunglasses?” he asks, pointing towards your bag.

“oh i forgot to grab them when i left, it’s okay though.” you give him a reassuring smile before leaning forward into the shade, taking a bite of your croissant.

he knew your eyes and most likely your head was hurting you, and you were trying to put on a brave face. he grabbed the shaded lens currently holding back his soft locks, leaning forward, sliding the lens carefully onto your face.

you jump in surprise, letting out a squeak before relaxing. you send him a small pout as he sits back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “what’d you do that for?” you ask, pushing the glasses up your nose.

“because, i know your eyes are probably stinging and if you don’t have a headache now, you’re definitely on your way to one.” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “what about your eyes?” you asked, frown still present.

“don’t worry about mine, do you want to sit over here in the shade?” he asks, moving as if he’s gonna get up. you shake your head, moving to stop him. “no no, i’m okay, you stay.”

he scoots his chair over slightly, still in the shade, “come on, move your chair.” he waves you over. you roll your eyes before getting up, moving your chair towards the dimmer area, sitting down.

“i was fine over there.” you glare at him over the black shades.

he rolls his eyes before leaning over slightly, wrapping his arms around you. “will you just let me take care of you please?” he asks, placing a quick kiss to the back of your head. “plus i know you were 2 minutes away from a headache.” giving you a knowing look.

now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “yeah yeah.” you concede, admitting defeat. “thank you, my love.” you say, turning to him, placing a kiss to his cheek. “anything for my muse.” he smiles, placing a chaste kiss to your lips before letting you go.

the rest of the day was spent walking around, enjoying the weather and a quick trip to the versace store to buy you your own matching pair of sunglasses.

do not repost

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lunarsturniolo · 9 months

Text

Body Shots | Frat!Chris

Not in the same universe as Pillow Talk Chris. Just another Frat!Chris au lol

Thank you @querenciasturniolo for proofreading!! This is longer than most of my fics, and there was no way I'd be able to properly check for mistakes.

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still.

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.”

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases.

Chris teaches Y/N how to take body shots (and it escalates)

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink if you squint, cnc if you don’t read carefully. MDNI

Masterlist

“Hi,” I gave a sweet smile over the bar, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

Chris was working the bar today. After an overwhelming Wine Wednesday and a slightly unsuccessful mixer on Thursday, he didn’t want to go too overboard at the party his frat was hosting. So, there Chris was, working behind the makeshift bar, pouring shots and distributing Truly’s to the girls who were still there.

It was nearing 3 am, and the crowd was beginning to die down. Chris overheard my request and nudged the other bartender, “Got it,” he said, effectively switching places with him.

Chris leans over the bar, his left forearm resting in a few drops of alcohol as he leans closer to me, “You gonna let me take one with you?”

I look up at him with an innocent smile, “It’s gonna cost you.”

He barks a laugh in my direction, “You’re literally in my house,” he says.

I nod, “I am.”

“So you should be giving me somethin’.”

I give Chris a long look and leave a pregnant pause, “I might be open to something.”

Chris pushes himself off the bar and disappears into the kitchen. I take the moment alone to look around the house. I spotted my friend Kylie, whom I lost to a group of girls about 10 minutes ago when No Hands started playing. With a bit of flair, I watch as the DJ starts to play Sexy Bitch, “How fitting,” Chris says, finding his way back to the counter.

I roll my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips, “What do you want?”

“Wanna do body shots?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips. He holds up his right hand. He was still carrying the bottle of Jose Cuervo. But now, in the palm of his hand, I see a lime peeking out.

My smile falters slightly, “I’ve never done a body shot.”

“Has anyone done one off of you?” He asks.

I shake my head, Chris’s eyes widening with amusement. “First time for everything,” he mumbles. He reaches under the bar, producing a wild berry Truly and passing it to a girl behind me that I hadn’t noticed.

“Who said I wanted to do a body shot?” I tease.

Chris shrugs, “You want to do one. I know you.”

I fold my lips in on themselves, “Okay. Teach me.”

He smiles victorious. “Do you wanna get on the counter?”

I look around once again. The room, by far, isn’t crowded, but there are people here you know you’re going to see again.

“Do I have to?” I finally ask, “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Chris deadpans.

“Because everyone can see me.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Chris says, “Now get on the counter, or I’ll spread you out myself.”

I decide it’s in my best interest to get on the counter. I step up into the kitchen before hoisting myself up onto the counter. Chris tells me to lie down, so I oblige. I can feel remnants of the bar from the night staining my bare skin and weighing down my hair. I cringe slightly at the thought before turning to look at Chris, my cheek resting on the cool surface of the bar.

“So, there are two routes I could go,” Chris begins, “I could pour this into your belly button and take the shot out of there, or I could just use a shot glass and call it a day.”

My eyes widened, “Yeah, can we do the second one?”

With a chuckle, Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’, too.”

He turns around and quarters the lime over the sink. He reaches across the bar, hovering a lime wedge over my face. He taps it gently against the parting of my lips, “Open up for me, yeah?”

I nod and widen my mouth, softly biting into the lime, a bit of juice rolling into the back of my throat, “Good girl,” he commends.

I roll my eyes, a slight mumble emitting from the back of my throat due to the lime I’m holding, “Shut up,” I tell him.

Chris gently guides my hands down to my sides and nudges my hip, “Can I lift this up a little?”

I hum a reply, the lime starting to become a proper hindrance. Chris gently tugs at my shirt, making me arch my back so he can lift it to my breasts. My hands itch at my side as he plants a series of wet kisses, making a line from right under my belly button to the waistband of my pants.

A blush forms on my cheeks as his nose nips under my pants, raising the waistband slightly and giving him a view of the black lace panties I had worn to the frat tonight.

He reaches for the salt behind him, grabs a small pinch of it, and sprinkles it over the slight sheen of saliva that is left behind. “Squeeze my hand if you want to stop,” he tells me, putting my hand in his.

Using his free hand, he grabs a small orange glass and flips it upright. He laxly pours a double shot of tequila into the glass, watching me wither under his gaze.

My right hand landed on my stomach, tapping a pattern next to the line of salt, trying my best not to make a mess around me. The music is still going, and I’m sure Kylie is about to text me, telling me she found a guy to go home with. Chris is still distributing drinks to the girls who are coming up to the bar, and I’m sitting with a ball of anticipation in my stomach.

He returns to me with a shy smile, “Sorry, mama, I’m here for real.”

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still.

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.”

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases.

He gives me one last look before leaning down, his tongue making contact with my stomach. I flinch at the contact, slightly unexpecting, and Chris looks up at me through his eyelashes.

I drink in the sight of him, remembering every detail as his hands push me down against the table. His hair has fallen over his eyes, the dark ringlets tickling my stomach with his painfully slow movements.

Chris lets go of my left wrist, his hand taking hold of the shot he poured. My newly free hand moves without thought, entangling itself into his hair, tugging his further up my body in anticipation.

He hums out a moan with a taunting smile on his face as his tongue dips into my belly button, lingering for an extra moment. The salt sticks to his tongue as he brings the shot glass up to his lips, wrapping them around the glass before quickly throwing his head back. His jaw flexes as he stretches his neck, and I watch as his Adams Apple moves as he swallows.

Chris squeezes my hand as he swallows the bitter flavor, his lips coming down for mine to grab the lime. In a moment of weakness, I suck the lime further into my mouth so he has no choice but to graze my lips with his.

As anticipated, Chris’s lips make lingering contact with mine. His tongue pokes out and wedges itself beneath my lip and into my mouth, grabbing the bottom of the lime and pushing it into his mouth.

Moving back slightly, I keep him from moving any further with a hand in his hair. With hooded eyes, he looks at me as he bites into the lime, some of the juice falling into my mouth and some of it dripping down his chin in a sensual manner.

He turns his head slightly, silently asking to move. I let go of his hair, and he turned his head, spitting the lime out of his mouth and onto the kitchen floor. He looks at me with a smile, “Do you still want your shot?”

“Will it also be a body shot?”

“Whatever you want,” He tells me.

I pull his hand in between us, guiding his ear to my lips, “What I want is to go to your bedroom.”

Chris looks at me, “Beg me.”

“Please, Chris, I wanna go to your room.”

He smirks, “Again,” he tsks.

I roll my eyes in annoyance, “I’m not begging.”

“Then you’re not getting in my room,” he replies.

I leave a long pause before letting out a big sigh, “Please, babe? Can you take me to your bedroom?”

He hums in acceptance, “What do you wanna do in the bedroom, mama?”

I look at him and swallow harshly, “I want you to touch me.”

“But what do you want to do?”

My voice wavers into a whisper, “I want to take a shot off you,” I tell him.

“Mmmm, that’s a good girl,” Chris says, “Always telling me what you want.”

I blush, and Chris moves away to start cleaning up the kitchen. I see him gather a new shot glass, a lime, and some salt before helping me off the counter with a hand on the small of my back.

Together, we walk towards the staircase that’s slightly blocked off- he keeps a hand on the small of my back, nodding a slight hello as we pass his friends.

He lets me in front of him when we get to the stairs, watching my backside as I make my way up, stopping outside his room and waiting for him to unlock it.

With a quick twist of his wrist, the key had unlocked his door, and he led me into his bedroom, sitting on his bed with his knees apart. I made my way closer to him, standing between his knees and giving him a shy smile.

“Can you take your shirt off?” I ask him.

He nods, his hands falling to the hem of his henley, pulling it off in a swift motion, “Where do you want me?” he asks.

I cock my head as I look at him contemplatively, “Maybe just lay down.”

He nods and does as I say, “Can I, um-”

“You want me naked?” he asks.

My cheeks turn hot at his words, “Can I take off your pants?” I ask him.

He laughs at my shy demeanor, “You gotta get naked for me too, then, ma.”

Without a second thought, I drop my hands to my jeans, fiddling with the button before allowing them to pool at my ankles. His hands find the hem of my shirt, this time, pulling it over my head gently. He rests his hands on my back before letting me unbuckle his belt.

“Chris,” I whine lightly.

“Yeah?”

Instead of replying, I push him down onto his bed. His head stayed propped up by some pillows, and he brought his hands behind his head so he could watch me. The two of us were naked, and I finally decided to let the looks of him sink in.

His cock was sporting a healthy erection, just as arousal was beginning to pool between my legs- we were clearly both turned on.

“C’mere,” he says, motioning for me to step towards him. “Wanna see if my baby’s worked up for me.”

I happily make my way over to Chris’s head, legs spread slightly for him to feel my cunt. Without a moment's rest, the pads of his fingers made their way to my bare skin, feeling the warm, plush skin and rubbing my clit slightly to create some friction. I moan lightly at his touch before he pulls his fingers away and rests them on my bottom lip.

“You wanna taste yourself for me, mama?” he asks.

I dip my chin as a nod, his fingers now resting on the parting of my lips. My tongue darts out at his long digits, coating them lightly as I taste myself on his fingers, making Chris moan in appreciation.

I hollow out my cheeks before taking his fingers out of my mouth, a small smile growing on my face.

“Gonna use this on my stomach, okay?” he asks, referring to the fingers I had in my mouth seconds prior.

Wordlessly, I nod as Chris drags his fingers down his happy trail- from the bottom of his belly button to the base of his cock- at an agonizingly slow pace. My eyes watch his fingers desperately as they mimic the exact path my tongue will take.

I clear my throat, “Salt?” I ask.

“Yeah, baby. Add some salt.”

I took the metal salt shaker that made its way onto his nightstand and used it to disperse salt into a thin line along his body. Chris reaches under his bed and produces a bottle of tequila, “From my stash,” he informs me.

I laugh, filling up a shot glass most of the way, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the thought of taking another double tonight.

I pick up a lime wedge and hand it to Chris. Dismissively, he sets it back on the table, “You won’t need that. Promise,” he tells me, a hand making its way into my hair and pulling me close to his mouth.

I can feel his breath fanning on my face as I study his eyes up close for the millionth time tonight, “Okay,” I agree.

Chris hums with satisfaction, “You’re such a good, obedient girl for me, baby. Always listening to me so well.”

This time, I hum in reply, the praise making me feel extra warm. “I wanna listen to you, Chris,” I tell him. My lips pucker up slightly before placing a small, aromantic peck on his lips.

He smiles at me, “Good idea, baby.” He lets my hair go loosely, allowing me to lean back. “You’re gonna tell me if anything is too much, right?” he confirms.

“Yeah, Chris. I’ll let you know. You get to use me until I say otherwise.”

I watch as a satisfying grin spreads on his face, “You’ve always been my favorite girl, you know?”

With a small laugh, I bring my face down to be level with his naval. He gathers my hair into a makeship ponytail in one hand and holds my shot glass for me in another, “I need to see you, mama.”

I smile, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, “Okay.”

Looking at Chris out of the corner of my eye, I bring my tongue to the beginning of the line of salt, licking slowly down to the base of his cock. My left-hand finds his balls, fondling with them lightly as I make my way down to his cock.

He lets out a moan, “When you get there, keep your tongue out, baby. I wanna feed you your shot.”

I turn my head towards him, giving him a slight nod, my tongue still working its way down his body. Giving the base of his cock a light kiss, I tilt my head up for Chris to pour the shot.

Feeling the alcohol glide down my throat immediately, without the need to swallow or for a chase, made me gag lightly. I closed my mouth, savoring the flavor of salt on my tongue before Chris moved my head.

Directing me down further to where his cock is, he rests my cheek on his left thigh. My tongue darts out, lapping around the base of his cock as my hand continues to play with his balls.

“That’s right, baby,” he praises me, “You can get up on the bed if you want.”

With a nod, I crawl up onto the bed, my mouth moving from the base to the tip.

I begin slowly licking the tip, watching the precum develop, and swallowing it as it comes. With a keen fascination, I loosen my jaw and begin to put his cock into my mouth.

Chris lets out a groan, “Fuck.” He reaches around his body, one hand finding my breasts. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and fondles my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat and around his tip.

I continue to push his cock into my mouth before I gag lightly and call it my limit. My hand jerks off what is left outside my mouth, and Chris begins to lose it.

His hands are tugging at my hair, and he is gently pushing my head forward onto his cock, loving the way my throat closes around the tip when I gag. Chris was in a state of euphoria.

“You good, mama?” he chokes out, pulling me off his cock slightly for reassurance.

Instead of verbally answering, I push his cock further into my throat, humming a reply, sending vibrations up through his body.

My tongue flatted against the underside of his cock, my head moving faster as I prompted Chris to fuck my mouth. His thrusts grew from wary to forceful as I began to gag, drool, and moan around him with each movement he made.

Tears grew at the brim of my eyes from the intensity, “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, mama?”

Unable to reply, I affectionately squeeze his thigh, “I know, baby. It feels so good to please me, huh?” he says. His hand leaves my nipple, entangling it into my head roughly so he has more control to ride out his orgasm.

With an especially deep thrust, I let out a long groan, my eyes rolling back slightly with satisfaction. Chris’s cock begins to twitch in my mouth, and I instinctively hollow out my cheeks, sucking harshly on his shaft.

Chris looks down at me with a smile, “I’m close, mama, I promise. Then I’ll fuck you good as a thank you.”

I nod, my voice significantly hindered by his cock lodged in my throat. With a final few thrusts from Chris and a gargling noise that arose from my mouth, he emptied himself into my mouth with a loud, resonating moan.

Giving me a minute to recover, he slid his cock out from my mouth and found a water bottle on his nightstand to feed me.

With a smile, I look at him, “I love having your cock in my mouth.”

With a small laugh, he rests his hand under my chin, wiping away some cum that didn’t quite make it into my mouth, “I love fucking your mouth, baby.”

I bite my lip in excitement, allowing him to use me as he chooses one again.

“Lie down, hmm?” he asks.

I do as I'm told, taking his spot on the bed as he straddles my body. He leans down towards the mattress, his lips finding my cunt. I can feel his breath fan across my body as he begins to lap his tongue in a circular pattern, hitting each part of my cunt.

Unceremoniously, his teeth begin to nip at my clit, creating the perfect amount of friction to make me moan out loud- probably loud enough to be heard over the music playing downstairs.

“Chris, please,” I beg.

“What, mama?” he asks, coming up for air with a small pant. His lips were wet and puffy from the time he spent attacking my clit, and I could see a bit of my arousal begin to make its way down his chin.

“I need you inside me, please,” I whimper.

Chris hums, sending my hips upward with a jolt. The action makes him laugh, which in turn does not help my squirming, “I’ll get inside ya,” he promises.

With one last feathery kiss to my clit, he sends a series of kisses up from my naval to my lips. By the time he has reached my lips, there are drops of my cum trailing up my body as a result of my cum dripping off Chris’s chin.

He leaves a few soft kisses on my lips before I bring his head to mine, holding it there while I nip at his bottom lip. He smiles, sliding his tongue into my mouth and allowing me to take control of the kiss as he adjusts himself against me.

I feel the tip of his cock poking at my entrance before he slowly buries it into my cunt. I let out a gasp, my jaw falling slack as Chris’s tongue laps at the inside of my mouth, trying to regain my attention.

“C’mon, mama, I know you can take me,” he tells me.

“I can take you,” I parrot back.

“Yeah, baby,” Chris agrees, “You’re doing so good.”

He stills for a moment, and I look down between us to see his cock has filled me completely, and he’s allowing me a moment to adjust. I grind my hips against him, my clit rubbing against the base of his cock, making both of us groan.

Looking back up at him, I give him a quick peck of encouragement to start thrusting again. He gently rolls his hips before slowly pulling out and roughly pushing back in.

He began to make this a rhythmic approach, filling the silence between his skin and slapping on yours with a series of breathy moans and chants of both of your names filling the room.

Chris kept his mouth atop mine and intertwined our fingers as he continued to fuck me.

My mouth fell open, and I felt my pussy begin to quiver around his large cock. My orgasm was blinding, leaving me gasping and moaning into Chris’s mouth, giving him ammunition to go faster and harder.

With his bed rocking underneath us and the sound of wet skin repeatedly hitting each other, Chris finally released into my tender pussy.

Pulling out slowly, his hand brought mine to his mouth, leaving feathery kisses on each knuckle.

“You okay, mama?” he asks, “Do you need me to get you anything?”

With a shrug, I reply, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

915 notes · View notes

librarygarten · 2 months

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#2 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 2 includes Legend, Four, and Wild Slight trigger warning for Wild's part? He grabs your wrist harshly Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Legend

Oh this is seriously pissing Legend off. He’s glaring daggers at your Switch like it just insulted his entire bloodline. His adventures? Games? Children’s games? It’s disturbing. It’s degrading. His uncle died! Zelda was imprisoned! He had to fight Ganon in the freaking Dark Realm! And that was only his first adventure! You apparently had ALL of his adventures as games on that device. His life wasn’t some cool toy! (He is slightly smug about having the most games of the chain though.)

He knows you’re not the one who made the games. He understands that you had no reason to view his adventures as anything other than some story a person in your world made. But the fact that until recently, you viewed him as a fictional character? That before you met him, you had seen him as a toy? That hurts.

Legend starts avoiding you. When the group walks somewhere, he’ll change his pace to make sure he’s not next to you. When the group settles down for the night, he keeps himself busy rearranging his items. He tries not to make it too obvious, always having a reason ready if someone asks what he’s up to. Eventually, though, the others catch on to his behavior.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“You know, you can’t avoid them forever.”

Legend looked up from his bag, which he had been reorganizing for the last half hour. Warrior was standing next to him, arms crossed in the “I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed” dad stance. (How he had snuck up on Legend without him hearing was a mystery).

“I’m not avoiding them.”

“Yes you are.”

Legend sighs. He’s not getting out of this conversation, is he?

“It’s just…How are you not bothered? They have all our adventures on a little device. They went on our adventures from the safety of their couch! Do they even see us as people? Are we just a game to them?” Legend snaps his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to start rambling. Warrior raises an eyebrow, considering the younger hero.

“Go ask to see one of your games. Watch them play for a bit.” Warrior puts up a hand to silence Legend when he begins to protest. “I can’t have you treat a teammate like this. Go.”

Later, Legend begrudgingly found himself sitting next to you. The group had come across a town, so most of the chain was off exploring and gathering supplies. Warrior had practically dragged Legend over to where you were sitting, but you were just happy Legend was finally okay being near you.

“So,” you smile, turning on your Switch “I know Wars is kind of forcing you to do this, but which game do you want to see? There’s A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds, Link’s Awakening…”

“Are all my games puns?” he scrunches up his face, cringing at whoever decided on these names. He could guess which pun correlated to each of his adventures, except for one. “What’s Link’s Awakening?”

“Oh! That one’s probably my favorite. It was actually so popular they re-made it a few years ago.” You open the game, and begin moving the game Link around the world.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Legend asks, “Why is my head so freakishly big?”

“It’s not that bad! It’s just the art style! Everyone looks like that. See?” You tap the screen, pointing to another character. Legend recognizes her immediately. Of course. Of course you had Koholint in your device.

“So, how much of my adventure do you see in this game?” Legend asks hesitantly, a blush creeping onto his face.

“From talking to the others, all of the enemies and places are the same,” you explain while moving game Link up a staircase. “But the things you guys say to other people aren't. Links don't talk in games, like, ever.” He nods, and watches as you enter the Wind Fish’s egg. When you finish the final boss fight, you hesitate to walk up the stairs.

“Sorry, I always get a bit emotional at this part.” You give him a half smile, “If I go up the staircase, the Wind Fish will talk, and then the game ends.”

“Isn't that the point?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never liked this game’s ending. It’s… frustrating. And sad.” You throw your hand up, clearly frustrated. “Like, I get that the stupid fish needs to wake up, but what about everyone else? I hate that I can’t get a happy ending for everyone.”

“Why do you care? Isn’t it just a game?” Legend crosses his arms, but his expression softens.

“It is- er… was.” You blush. “I don’t know. Even before I met you guys. Back when I thought none of this was real. I still wanted a happy ending.”

He lets his bangs fall in his face. You can’t see his expression when he talks again.

“I wanted one too.”

Four

(I know Four Swords is on the Switch now, but before that it was so ATROCIOUSLY difficult to play that I had to include The Struggle)

Games? About him? That's… concerning to say the least. It's not that he minds. He's honestly a bit flattered! But also. That means you know about the colors. Which he hasn't really told anyone in the group about.

He's preparing himself for an awkward conversation, but it never comes. Whenever another member of the chain asks about his games, you either only talk about his adventures with the Picori, or go on a half hour long rant about how hard it is to play the games.

Then during one of these rants you mention that Four Swords is your favorite game, and he nearly chokes on his own spit. He had thought you hated it from how much you complain about getting it set up. Something about emulators and linking cables? He doesn’t understand most of what you say, but knowing that he’s your favorite (well, his games are) makes him break out into a huge grin.

He watches you play occasionally, mostly out of curiosity. He usually has other things to be doing, like fixing Wild’s sword. Again. But on the rare occasion he has free time and is feeling especially bored, he’ll watch you.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Four finds you and Wind buried in a mass of wires. Your Switch, another box, and several smaller devices are scattered around the ground. You curse under your breath as you attempt to untangle the cords and plug them into the box.

“That’s it. I’m out.” Wind gets up and lets the wires that were in his lap fall unceremoniously to the ground . “Four’s adventure can’t be worth this much trouble to see.”

Wind walks away, and Four takes his place next to you.

“So… what is all this?” he asks, picking up a mass of wires and attempting to undo some of the knots.

“This, my friend, is all the equipment needed to play your game.” You say exasperatedly, trying yet again to plug the still-tangled wires into one of the devices.

“Are all your video games this complicated?” Four grimaces at the mess in front of you. He’s inclined to agree with Wind on this one. His adventure can’t be worth this much effort to play through.

“No, just yours.” You scowl and jam the end of one of the cables into one of the devices, hoping it will stay put this time. You have no such luck. “Four Swords is only a multiplayer game, and each person playing needs to own a copy of the game, plus have a way to connect to the other players. Hence… this mess.” You motion tiredly at the pile in front of you.

“Multiplayer?” he tilts his head questioningly.

“It means you can’t play it alone,” you stick out your tongue as you concentrate on finally putting the cords in their proper places. “You need to have multiple players.”

He nods. It makes sense, he guesses, considering how much focus he had to put on teamwork during his adventure with the Four Sword. He watches you try to boot up the game, then curse again as you fiddle with the wires again. Finally, you get it working.

“Sweet!” You clap your hands together, and Four smiles at how happy you seem to finally be able to play his game. To his surprise, you hand him one of the controllers. “Want to play with me?”

“Uhh… What about Wind?” He’s not sure he wants to actually play his adventure. Doing it once was enough, thank you very much.

“He ditched me during setup. Now he doesn’t get to play,” you say. “That’s been the rule at my house since we started playing this game.”

“Seems fair.” Four reluctantly takes the controller. He doesn’t want to seem rude and say no. Then who would you play with? “So, how do I do this?”

“It’s basically just a contest to see who can collect the most gems in the level. Not much story. Fastest wins.” you explain.

“Wait, really?” He's a bit surprised. He was expecting his game to be a bit more complicated. He suddenly doesn’t mind playing so much. “That sounds… really simple.”

“Yeah, it’s an older game, so it doesn’t seem like a lot of your adventure actually transfers over to the game.” You pick up a controller and smile mischievously. “Ready to lose, Smithy?”

“As if!” He grins, matching your enthusiasm. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

Wild

Wild isn't sure what the feeling that's settled in his chest is. He's not thrilled at the idea of you playing games about his adventure. He’s been through a lot, and the idea that it was all just a fun game to someone? It hurts. It’s upsetting. He’s honestly a bit annoyed at you for a while. You also seem to know something he doesn’t? What’s that about? Why won’t you tell him?

He decides that if you won’t answer his questions, he’ll trick you into showing him. He watches you play Breath of the Wild while he cooks, or while the group is walking, or really any chance there’s downtime. He quickly realizes that most of what you do is just run around killing monsters and finding Koroks. Nothing very noteworthy or interesting. Certainly, nothing worth hiding from him.

Then, you let it slip that his games are your favorite, and oooh boy is he smug. For about a day. After the initial ego boost, he realizes you said games. Plural. He’s only seen you play the one, though? What’s that about? He’s not getting answers, and it’s starting to eat at him. Eventually, he just steals your Switch and tries to find out for himself.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Wild throws the Switch at the ground next to where you’re sitting. You look up and see that he is absolutely fuming. Anything you could have said dies in your throat. Without another word, he storms off.

“What was that about?” Twilight asks, watching Wild walk away. You shrug, completely bewildered, and pick your Switch up off the ground. There’s dirt in the headphone jack, and a corner of the screen is cracked. You turn it on, testing how much damage has been done, and all the color drains from your face.

“Oh.” Is all you can think to say. Tears of the Kingdom is running. It looks like Wild started a new save file on your account. He’s still in the underground area at the beginning of the game, so he must have just finished watching the opening cutscene.

Before Twilight can ask any more questions, you drop your Switch on the ground again, probably cracking the screen even more, and take off sprinting in the direction Wild went.

“Wild? WILD!” You yell into the forest as you run, trying your best to follow which direction you think he might have gone. “WILD!!? LINK?!”

You stumble into a small clearing, and stop dead in your tracks. Wild is furiously swinging his sword at a tree, each strike is less precise than the last. After what feels like hours, but in truth was only a few minutes, he drops the weapon and falls to his knees. His breathing is ragged as his fingers claw into the dirt beneath him.

“Wild?” you whisper his name, tiptoeing to his side. Hesitantly, you kneel down next to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

“You knew.” His hair hides his face from view, but his voice has an edge you’ve never heard before. He sounds ready to murder you, but he doesn’t move from his place on the ground, only digging his fingers deeper into the ground. “You knew I was going to lose everything again. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I…” you gulp. What can you even say? What comfort can you offer? “I was planning to tell you… sometime.”

“Oh! Sometime!” Wild grabs your wrist and his face is suddenly inches from yours, eyes dark with anger. “And just when was this sometime going to be?”

“I don’t know!” You twist your wrist, attempting to escape his crushing grip, but are unsuccessful. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you! Or to stop it from happening in the first place!”

“Stop it? Just how do you expect to stop that from happening?” Wild releases your wrist and combs his hands roughly into his hair, pushing it away from his face angrily. You take a moment to rub where he had grabbed you. It aches, but there isn’t even a bruise.

“Well,” you speak softly as you stand up, taking a few steps away from him. “I figured, if we ever passed through your time, all ten of us could go wail on him before he even breaks the seal. There is the chance of him escaping and wailing on us instead, though.”

“THAT’S your plan?” He laughs as tears roll down his cheeks. “Sure! Let’s just go in, guns blazing, and all die of gloom poisoning!”

“That’s why I was waiting to tell you!” You throw up your hands. Your words sound louder than you intended them. Are you yelling now? “I have a couple design plans in the works for the Purah Pad and Sheika Slate, depending on which one is available, but none of them are finished yet!”

“Design plans?” Wild’s anger melts off his face, replaced with hesitant hope. “What are you designing?”

“Three words: Weaponized. Spinning. Top.”

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linked universe + reader #lu x isekai!reader #linked universe x isekai!reader #lu legend #lu legend x reader #lu four #lu four x reader #lu wild #lu wild x reader #totk #botw

191 notes · View notes

shuadotcom · 2 years

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Stay ‘Till Sunrise | HJS + KMG (M)

☀ Summary: After years of pining and lusting over your best friends, your desperation finally gets the better of you and you decide enough is enough. Tonight is the night you’ll risk ruining the friendship to be with them in every way you can.

☀ Pairing: Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader x Kim Mingyu

☀ Genres & AUs: Smut, fluff, friends to lovers au, non!idol au, polyam au, porn with the barest of plots

☀ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

☀ Warnings: Profanity (especially the f bomb), alcohol, oral (f. receiving), creampie, pussy slapping (like 3 times?), squirting, spanking, hair pulling, choking, double penetration, unprotected sex, anal (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), dirty talk, kinda dom!shua, switch!gyu, subby!reader, praise and pet names (babygirl, pretty girl, darling)

☀ Words: 9.1k

☀ Note: This was a dream I had that I needed to put together in fic form and write so it will leave my head!! It’s also inspired by Ruin The Friendship by Demi Lovato! Big thank you to @sun-kore for being my amazing, wonderful beta! ❤️ And thank you sosososo much @playmetheclassics \ @classicscreations for this beautiful banner that I’m still obsessed with!! 😍

Tagging the lovely @the-boy-meets-evil because she asked 💛

Okay, you can finally admit it: you want to fuck your best friends.

Well, you want to do more than that. You want Joshua and Mingyu to take you out on dates and call you pet names no matter how corny and old-school they are. You want Mingyu to make you romantic dinners to celebrate milestones together and you want Joshua to make you a beaded bracelet every birthday filled with heart shapes and pastel colors.

You want the three of you to spend lazy mornings laying in bed, sharing body warmth and cuddling until you get hungry or someone has to pee. You want to spend holidays and anniversaries with them. You want to hold Joshua’s perfect hands and place kisses on Mingyu's perfect nose and be the most sickeningly cute, perfect polycule with them.

Every time you see a couple doing cutesy, cheesy couple things your mind always wanders to Joshua and Mingyu, imagining the three of you doing it too and your heart feels so warm at the thought.

Of course, when all of your soft thoughts of light kisses and hand-holding drift away they’re replaced with some not-so-soft thoughts.

Thoughts of Joshua using his big hands to choke you while he fucks you into your mattress and images of Mingyu’s strong arms gripping your legs hard as he makes you cum on his face over and over again. Your laundry list of dirty things you want to do with the two of them is long and extensive but then again how could it not be when they look the way they do?

You’ve known them for five years thanks to your roommate Seungcheol who’s known them for longer. Somewhere after the year three mark of knowing them, feelings for the two men morphed from friendly love for your sweet friends who do nice things for you all of the time to the realization that all of these sweet things have stacked up in your heart to accumulate to the massive, embarrassing, crush you have on them now.

You love your whole group of friends of course, but they’ve always been the sweetest and easiest to get along with. You can always laugh at the same things as them, eat the same foods, and open up to them more than any of your other friends. Joshua and Mingyu make you feel safe and loved and cared for so of course your heart was bound to belong to them both.

They also happen to be some of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen in your life.

Your eyes wander to Mingyu at this thought at his spot in the kitchen. He’s leaning back against the counter as he waits for the popcorn in the microwave. His arms are crossed as he scrolls on his phone and his long, dark hair hangs in his face. The slightly curly locks look soft and you know they are, seeing as you use every opportunity to playfully run your fingers through them.

He reaches up then, carding his fingers through the strands and you eye the wonderful way his biceps flex when he does, the sleeves of his t-shirt very noticeably hugging his arm. The arms that are so deliciously toned and hard that let you know just how strong Mingyu is and how easily he could probably toss you around and -

The ding of the microwave jolts you out of your long-running thirst thoughts about your friend. Joshua laughs from next to you, playfully poking your side.

“Did the microwave scare you?”

“I was zoning out!”

“Clearly. What were you even thinking about that hard?”

About one of my best friends absolutely wrecking my body in the most sinful of ways.

“Uh, my uh glass is empty. I was contemplating getting up for another drink.” You nod towards your empty glass on the coffee table, your skin burning up at getting caught fantasizing. It’s not a complete lie - before you were consumed with your constant Minshua fantasies, you had in fact been thinking about getting up for another drink.

But then Mingyu got up to make popcorn and you watched him walk away in his gray sweatpants at the same time that Joshua shifted on the couch and his thigh grazed yours and yeah. That’s how you ended up in such a daze.

“Oh, I’ll make you another.”

“No! You don’t have to!” You reach out to grab the glass before he can take it, but he simply bats your hand away and snatches it at the same time he gets up from the couch.

“Nope, I’m doing it.” He sends you a smile that has your heart doing cartwheels.

God, he’s so fucking sweet. You want to suck him off so badly.

“Me too?!” Mingyu points to his half-empty cup on the coffee table. He’s returned to his spot on the couch next to you, the bowl of popcorn balancing in one hand.

“What, are your legs broken? Guess you should’ve made it when you were up.”

“You’re mean!” Mingyu accuses, a pout forming on his face.

Joshua just chuckles at him, blowing him a kiss in response as he reaches the kitchen.

You’re so in love with them it’s disgusting.

He keeps a playful smile on his face as he makes your drink and it quickly morphs into determination as he eyes the different alcohols. You haven’t looked at him straight on since he and Mingyu arrived earlier in the evening for your bi-weekly movie night. You’re still both thanking and cursing the rest of your friend group for having plans and leaving you with your two biggest weaknesses tonight.

Joshua leans over the sink to rinse out your glass and the button-down he’s wearing - that’s already undone way too far in your opinion - exposes more of his smooth chest and it takes everything in you not to gape so openly. He’s nowhere as big as Mingyu, but you know for certain they’ve gone to the gym many times together and you know Joshua’s also built in a way that has you blushing and kicking your feet like a mad woman. He’s constantly wearing shirts that show off all of the honeyed skin of his neck, just begging to be covered in marks. And oh how badly do you want those marks to come from your lips and teeth.

“Can I put something else on?” Mingyu directs the question at both of you but is reaching over you already to grab the remote.

His body is so warm and he smells so good and you’re back to focusing on him again. The urge to reach out and cup his face just to gaze at him up close is strong, but you keep yourself composed.

“If you put on Spiderman one more time, I’m going to bite you,” you warn him, watching him open the search bar on the streaming menu.

“Come on! Every time we have movie night you and Shua try to put on too many scary movies!”

“The last one wasn’t even scary, it was just a thriller.” You roll your eyes at the man. “Don’t be a baby.” Your friends, especially you and Joshua, always tease the younger man about how whiny he gets when anyone puts anything remotely scary around him. Unfortunately for him, both you and Joshua love them and it’s two versus one tonight.

“It was a horror thriller! I saw the categories when it was over!” Mingyu continues leaning over you even after the remote is in his hand, so when he tilts his head back to look at you upside down, he’s so incredibly close enough to see every detail on his perfect face.

You’re the target of his pout this time, his plush lips looking oh-so inviting. Delusion kicks in at that moment and you swear you see Mingyu’s eye drift to your mouth too, neither of you moving away from one other.

Is he moving towards you right now? Kissing upside down seems hard and logistically, not that simple, but you’d never dream of rejecting Mingyu in this universe or any other.

“Move your big head!” Joshua interrupts whatever this was when he returns, waving your drink in front of your face. “Alright Y/n, I demand that you give me feedback on my bartending skills immediately.”

Mingyu jolts up, reaching quickly for a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth. He gives Joshua a look that you can’t decipher. It’s quick and you nearly miss it, but it definitely looks like something. Ignoring it, you take your glass from Joshua, and he watches as you sip your drink, waiting for your verdict.

“It’s perfect,” you finally say and he breaks into a brilliant smile.

“I know.” He says rather smugly. “I always know what you like.” Joshua sends you a wink and you guess it’s that coupled with his words that conjure up a version of Joshua whispering that into your ear as he fucks you hard, knowing exactly how you like it and how to touch you.

To drown out the thirst and desperation in your head you start to chug the drink, aware of both men watching you gulp it down in record time.

“Be careful there, Y/n. I know it’s good but don’t get ahead of yourself.” Joshua’s hand finds your knee which doesn’t help you at all with the state that you’re in.

Clumsy hands reach out for the remote, announcing to them that you’ll be finding something to put on which steers the conversation into another debate of what to watch. You’re thankful for it because quite frankly, you need all the distractions you can get.

It’s nearly one in the morning when you suggest to them that they stay the night. None of you are drunk per se, but they are buzzed so driving home is off the table. Joshua suggests that they’ll take a rideshare since they don’t live far from each other, but you shoot that down.

“That’s stupid, just stay the night. We can keep hanging out.” You punctuate your words with your best pout to lay it on thick. To be honest, you’ve been debating all night if you want to make any moves to suggest you want to do more with them than watch movies but you haven’t decided yet and want a little more time. Plus you just don’t want to stop being around them.

“Fine, we'll stay.” Joshua decides for both of them. It hadn’t taken long at all for him to give in.

“Good!”

With that settled, you all take a movie intermission for bathroom breaks and showers before resuming. Since you’re in for the night you want to be more comfortable - and you need a second to try and get your mind sorted.

This wouldn’t be the first time that any of your guy friends stayed at your apartment for various reasons, so you’re able to fish out some extra sweats and shirts for them that have been left behind for various reasons.

Once you’re in your room with your door shut tight you pull off your clothes and get ready to shower. Now more than ever you’re thankful that when you and Seungcheol played rock, paper scissors to see who’d get the master bedroom, you won.

Speaking of your roommate, you think about him and send a text message as the water for your shower warms up. He went home for his brother’s birthday which gave you the blessing and the curse of being alone with the two men who are showering only a few feet away from you.

[Y/n] Cheol, are you up?

[Choi Seungcheollie] Yeah I’m up. The party is still raging on and my brother is absolutely wasted. He’s this close to getting us kicked out of this club 🙄

[Choi Seungcheollie] Why are you still up? Did Mingyu and Joshua leave already?

[Y/n] No, they're sleeping over. We’re not drunk off our asses but they def can’t be driving

[Choi Seungcheollie] They’re sleeping over huh? 🤔

[Choi Seungcheollie] Is tonight the night you’ll finally become the meat in the Mingyu and Joshua sandwich of your dreams?????

[Y/n] Stopppppppp I’m scared 😩 If I confess and they don’t feel the same our friendship is fucked you know this

[Choi Seungcheollie] You’re so dramatic. They worship the ground you walk on already, remember? Ask anyone.

[Choi Seungcheollie] Text Jeonghan I’m sure he’ll tell you the same

You most certainly will not be texting Jeonghan. You may also be close to him, but he still won’t hesitate to blackmail you to confess if he knew your current situation.

[Y/n] I’d rather risk potentially ruining the friendship myself than get that fucking villain involved

[Choi Seungcheollie] Fair point. Then all I’ll say is to just DO IT. It’ll go fine. You’ve been pining over them for literal years and I know these guys. This won’t be the end of your friendship.

[Choi Seungcheollie] Maybe just start with something small and see how they react.

You roll Seungcheol’s words around in your head. The desire weighing heavy in your stomach for them is the most it’s been in a long time. The fear of rejection and driving a wedge in between the three of you has kept your mouth shut all this time, but you’re really going through it tonight with the way you’re quite literally craving them. If you can come up with something small then it could be easier for you to read them.

[Y/n] Fine, I'll figure something out. If I get my heart broken expect a hysterical voice memo later!!

[Choi Seungcheollie] Good luck, Y/n! I’ll be here if you need me ❤️

After taking a quick shower, you finally decide the best course of action is your choice of pajamas. Instead of the cute cow set that you bought recently you decide on a black cotton night shirt that stops somewhere under your asscheeks with the matching panties that can easily be seen when you bend over - even just a little bit. Seungcheol said something subtle and you feel as though seducing them in your underwear is the most blatant yet wordless way of doing so.

Giving yourself a quick once over, you decide that forgoing a bralette is the most logical choice for your desired endgame, and make your way back out into the living room. Both men are on the couch looking at something on Mingyu’s phone when you enter and you watch as Joshua does a double take when looking up at you. He tries to subtly get Mingyu to notice you, but the latter isn’t too good with that, so Mingyu’s eyes on you are much more obvious.

“You guys showered already?” Your question is innocent, as is the way you ease into your seat between them. But, you do go out of your way to lift your night shirt so you don’t sit on it, exposing your panties as you sit.

“Yeah. We were just trying to decide if we wanted to order food.” Joshua’s words sound a little distant and a glance out of the corner of your eye tells you why. His gaze keeps darting between the tv and the expanse of your thighs that are exposed. The nightshirt is already short, but it’s risen nearly to the tops of your thighs when sitting. On your other side, Mingyu’s phone is still in front of his face but he’s doing a terrible job at pretending he isn’t looking at you.

Putting on a short shirt was the best plan of action you could conjure up on the fly, but it seems to be working.

“Up to you guys. I’ve got more snacks if you don’t wanna wait.” Both men make noises of acknowledgment but don’t make another move other than Joshua resuming to flip through Netflix.

Not a single part of you is paying attention to what Joshua puts on tv. It’s an anime you’ve seen but the men on either side of you are all you focus on. You’re no femme fatale in the slightest and your flirting could use some serious work, but you’d like to think their change in demeanor is a good thing. You continue shifting on the couch so that different parts of you graze against the two of them and each man reacts, albeit differently.

Mingyu lets out a lot of stifled sounds of surprise while Joshua clears his throat each time an arm or leg touches him but neither of them moves away or tries to create distance which keeps your small bout of confidence from fizzling out.

Eventually, your urge to make a bolder move is strong so you decide to be a little more blatant.

“I’m gonna grab a snack, do you guys want anything?”

“Nope.”

“No.” They rush their answers out in unison and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

You pull yourself up from the couch slowly, leaning forward as you do so the back of your shirt rides up and you know for sure your panties are visible. To up the ante, you drop your phone on the floor in front of the couch.

“Oops.” Before you can talk yourself out of it, you hold your breath and bend at the waist to pick it up, ass on full display. Mingyu lets out what sounds like a whimper from behind you, but you’re too nervous to turn around so phone in hand, you beeline for the kitchen, your back still turned to them.

Nerves are starting to outweigh the rush of horniness the night has brought you. What if you throw yourself at them and they completely turn you away? What if you do too much and it makes one or both of them so uncomfortable that it ruins your dynamic? The end result of the idea of confessing to them loops back around as it always does and you’re close to backing out as you always do and retreating to the safety of your room where you can daydream of what-ifs and touch yourself in peace.

“Hey, Y/n,” You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of Mingyu’s voice so close behind you. You hadn’t even heard him approach but you very much feel him. His broad chest is pressed against your back, his body heat rolling off of him in waves.

“H-hey,” Hopefully he doesn’t hear the way your voice trembles.

“You’ve been standing here for a while. Do you need help getting something?”

Truth be told, you have no idea how long exactly you’ve been standing in front of the cabinet. At the moment your brain is having trouble keeping up with much of anything other than how close your best friend is to you.

“Uh, um,” your eyes dart to the open cabinet in front of you, landing on the bag of cookies that are on a top shelf, out of your reach. When you say this to Mingyu, he leans forward, his torso pushing against yours, effectively pinning you against the counter as he reaches over your head. He smells so good and feels so warm and firm, your head is dizzy at all of these sensations hitting you at once.

“Here.” Minygu brings the bag of cookies to your eyesight, the snack right in front of you, but neither of you moves. Both of you seem to be holding your breath, waiting for the other to do something.

“Mingyu, I -” Your sentence ends with a choke as Mingyu jolts his hips forward, the bulge in his sweatpants poking you.

He retracts his hips quickly, almost so quickly that for a second you nearly believe maybe it didn’t happen, but you know what you felt. That’s why you decide in an instant to move your hips back to meet his crotch. Mingyu makes a hissing noise behind you, but again, neither of you moves away.

“Hey, we had a deal!” Joshua’s voice is what finally has you and Mingyu separating, the forgotten bag of cookies falling to the floor.

“Shit, sorry! I couldn’t help it!” Mingyu stamps his foot on the ground. You’d have found the gesture cute if you weren’t so confused.

“A deal?” You pipe up, neither man hearing you.

“I knew when you came into the kitchen you couldn’t be trusted.”

“I really did want to come to get something to drink! I just got distracted because she’s wearing that!”

“Likely story.”

“What are you guys talking about?!” You yell, both of them finally paying attention to you. They exchange a look. “And don’t do that annoying man telekinesis shit. I saw you do it earlier tonight - tell me the truth!”

“We agreed that neither of us would go after you since we both like you!” Mingyu blurts in a rush, unable to meet your eyes.

“You what?”

“We just didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship with each other and you of course. We care about you and didn’t want to make things messy.”

Blinking at Joshua’s words, the wheels in your head work overdrive to comprehend what they’re saying.

“I’m sorry, you both like me?”

“I know it sounds weird, I got drunk at Chan’s birthday party last year and told Joshua when you were dancing with Soonyoung.”

“And then I told him I liked you too because I was also drunk and we promised neither of us would act on it and just hope our crushes went away.”

Wordlessly, you take in their confessions. You can’t believe you’ve been breaking your own heart this whole time. Ignoring your feelings, stressing over them, willing them gone for nothing. And to think, you wanted to seduce them so badly tonight when all you probably had to do was tell them and they’d take care of you.

“You’re not mad at us, right? I’m sorry if you think we’re creepy or whatever, we can totally leave!” Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy as he anticipates your answer, likely expecting a negative response.

“You guys are not leaving.” You finally say, both men looking surprised. “I’ve been talking myself out of liking you two for the last like two years and you’ve been into me this whole time. There’s no way I’m going to let you just leave after we’ve gotten all this out in the open.”

“I - you like us too? Both of us?” Joshua looks as surprised as you probably do.

“Both of you. A lot.” They share another look.

“So… what do we do?” Joshua starts. “I mean I’m fucking stoked that you just said that, but what do we actually do?”

“I’m open to the three of us, you know, being a thing.”

“Like, you date me, but also Joshua and we all date each other?” You nod at Mingyu’s words, holding your breath at their reaction.

A beat of silence goes by, neither man speaking before Joshua decides.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” You and Mingyu ask in unison.

“Okay, we can all date. It’s a win-win-win. I get to call Y/n my girlfriend finally and Mingyu is lucky enough to say he’s dating a catch like me.”

“Yah, you’re the lucky one! Do you how many people wanna date me? I’m a model for a reason, thank you very much.”

“Posting selfies and outfit of the day TikToks doesn’t make you a model, Gyu.”

“If I get paid to show this face then it’s modeling! Don’t be a hater.” Mingyu clicks his tongue.

“Hey!” Again you interrupt their bickering. “I really, really like both of you so much and I want to do so many dumb boyfriend-girlfriend things with y’all, and we can work out the dynamics of this whole thing tomorrow, but right now I am so insanely horny and I’d really like it if you guys could fuck me.”

Your best friends - now boyfriends? - gape at you and take too long to respond, so to speed things along you close your eyes and start to lift your nightshirt, stopping to expose your bare breasts to them. Both sets of brown eyes in front of you take in your half-naked form.

“Please,” you whine, peeking an eye open. You don’t care who moves first - you just wish one of them would.

Something in Joshua’s expression changes and his usual sweet face turns dark as he crosses the small distance between you two, his hands cupping your face as he smashes your lips together.

Kissing Joshua is heavier than you anticipate. His lips easily and skillfully take over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth without much resistance on your end. Your body presses forward against his like a magnet and you need to grip his shirt to steady yourself against him. He holds your face with a tenderness that is a stark contrast to the way he’s desperately ravishing your lips.

“Fuck, I’m finally kissing you,” Joshua sighs in between kisses and you hum in agreement.

You get lost in the whirlwind that is finally making out with Joshua, but the feeling of another set of hands on your body snaps you back to reality. Mingyu has silently met the two of you in the middle of the kitchen, efficiently trapping you between both men. His just as soft lips ghost over your neck as his arms, almost trembling, wrap around your waist.

Mingyu has always been one of the softest men you’ve ever known. He’s a big boy with big arms and an even bigger heart. You can feel the nervousness and hesitancy radiating off of him. Prying your fingers from the death grip they have on Joshua’s shirt, you move one hand down to lie on top of Mingyu’s. Immediately your fingers slip between his to grip his hand tightly and let him know how okay with this you are and how safe he is here with all of you together like this.

It must’ve been the reassurance he needs because the next thing you feel is Mingyu’s teeth as they begin nibbling harder at the skin on your neck, clearly intending to leave marks. He pulls your hips back so you meet his erection digging into your lower back.

A whimper escapes you as your brain teeters on the brink of shutting off the more Mingyu leaves you reminders of tonight and the more Joshua kisses every breath out of you.

At some point, Joshua finally comes up for air, both of you panting for dear life. Mingyu spins you around and replaces Joshua’s mouth with his, his hands opting to grip your hips as he melds his lips with yours. Where Joshua’s kiss was dominant and thoughtful, Mingyu’s is soft yet desperate. Between moments to breathe, he slips in little nibbles on your bottom lip and kisses you as if he’ll never get another chance, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

Your fingers dart up to tangle in his midnight hair, tugging on the soft strands by the root.

“Fuck, Y/n…” Your name falls from Mingyu’s mouth in a groan and it’s probably the best thing you’ve heard in your life.

Wanting to hear it once more, you pull again, and he whimpers your name again. You go in for a third time, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, Mingyu swoops down with lips still attached to yours as he grabs hold of your thighs and quickly scoops you up off of the ground, plopping you on the kitchen counter.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” Mingyu pleads between kisses. His words shoot straight to your pussy and you nod your head so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.

The sound of Joshua’s chuckle draws your attention up and to him. As Mingyu kisses down your body, inching your panties down on the way, Joshua holds your gaze.

He’s a sight directly out of your usual fantasies. A red hue fans out across the expanse of his neck, up to his round cheekbones, and reaches his pouty lips as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Your eyes desperately follow his hand as it reaches up to push back his already messy hair, then moves back down to grip his obvious erection. He rubs himself a few times through his sweatpants, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Shua…” You mewl, hand feebly reaching for him.

“What is it, pretty girl?”

You falter at the pet name that falls from his lips so easily - and in a tone that you’re not used to from him.

“I - I want you. I - ohhhhh.”

Mingyu’s lips wrap around your clit and suck hard - any semblance of a sentence you had in mind withers away. His fingers dig into your thighs to keep a grip on you as his thick tongue alternates between lapping at your clit and darting in and out of you. The sounds of Mingyu eating you out like a man starved fills the kitchen, making you dizzy.

“Fuck, Gyu!” Mingyu’s tongue is sinful as he laps at you, making a mess of you even more than you already are. “So good….you’re so good.” Your hands find Mingyu’s hair and tug on the strands again causing the younger man to moan into you as he starts eating you out even rougher, his teeth nipping at your sticky skin and his nose bumping into your clit.

Joshua is next to you suddenly, his soft hands running up your thighs and under your nightshirt. He eases the fabric off of you and tosses it elsewhere. He’s immediately cupping your face again, pulling you in to capture your lips once more. His other hand moves down to grab your breast, kneading and squeezing with the right force to have you panting in his mouth.

Having both men on you like this, touching you everywhere you need it, kissing you everywhere you need it, has you approaching your orgasm quicker than you think you ever have before.

“Gyu baby, Shua, fuck, I-I’m gonna -” For the second time tonight they have you faltering, this time it’s because Joshua pulls away at the same time that he grips Mingyu’s hair and yanks his head from between your legs. Mingyu lets out a groan that meshes with your noise of frustration.

“Why?!” The man still kneeling pouts, looking almost devastated.

“I think this’ll work best in Y/n’s bedroom.” The words barely leave Joshua’s mouth before Mingyu is clambering up from the floor, lifting you from the counter, and placing you onto the floor. He intertwines your fingers and practically drags you to your bedroom.

“Mingyu, there’s no rush!” You try and reassure him, but he has you on your bed almost immediately as you enter the room and is kissing you again.

“I know, baby girl, but I need you so bad. I’ve dreamed about eating you out for fucking ever and you taste so good and I just need to do it before I explode.”

You can’t argue with that so after one more bruising kiss, Mingyu shuffles down the bed and gets comfortable between your legs before diving back in, his tongue thrusting into you once more. Who are you to deny a beautiful man practically begging to eat your pussy? Plus if Mingyu keeps calling you baby girl the way he did, you’ll let him do damn near anything.

Joshua comes into the room then, eyes fixated on the sight before him. You have enough strength amidst Mingyu consuming your soul through your coochie to reach out and stop Joshua before he climbs onto the bed.

“C-clothes off. It’s not - ahh - uh, it’s not fair th-that I’m the only one naked.” Your sentence is capped off with a moan as Mingyu sucks particularly hard.

“Hmmm. I should make you ask me nicer than that,” Joshua teases, pretending to think but it’s only for a second. “But I think I’ll let it slide this time. Next time I won’t be so nice.” The smirk he sends your way is lethal and has you clenching around Mingyu’s eager tongue.

Joshua makes quick work of pulling off his shirt and pants. You can barely marvel at the expanse of the smooth skin of his abs and the sheer size of his cock because Mingyu makes you cum then.

“Oh fuck, yes!” It hits you like a train and your body tingles as you cry out his name. You grip your sheets so hard that your fingers hurt as he peppers kisses all over your pussy, moaning after each smooch.

“You sound so good when you cum, pretty girl. Doesn’t she, Gyu?”

“Fuck, yeah. She does.”

“I wanna hear you cum again, darling. Can you do that for us?” Joshua’s tone is full of honey and sweetness as he licks his fingers and brings them to your clit. You nearly leap off the bed as he begins rubbing circles against you, wetness pooling between your legs as soon as he finds a steady pace.

“Joshua!” You squirm under his touch, both wanting him to stop due to the sensitivity and silently begging him for more.

“I think she wants more, Shua.” Mingyu muses, his breath feeling dangerously close to your inner thigh again.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you want, darling?”

“Mmhmm! Please!”

“Please what?” You wrench your eyes open to look down at them. Mingyu apparently shed his clothes in the time it took for your post-orgasm haze to clear. His hair is a mess and his pupils are blown wide as he stares, eyes darting between your core and your face. Joshua on the other hand is only staring right at you, his brown eyes full of desire as he skillfully rubs your clit, waiting for your response.

“P-please make me cum again,” it’s more a mumble than anything, feeling flustered at having both of them with their attention on you.

In response to the feeble attempt at begging, Joshua smacks your mound, the sting rushing through you deliciously. “You can do better than that, pretty girl. Wanna try again?” Another sharp smack follows and you squeal.

“Please, please make me cum again!” It’s almost a sob this time which seems to please Joshua because the next thing you feel is one of his long fingers slipping into your entrance, immediately having you buck your hips to meet his hand.

“So needy,” he coos at you, heat spreading over you even more, this time in embarrassment.

It doesn’t take long for Joshua to be able to slip another finger in, stretching you out even more. As he fucks you with his fingers, leaving you panting like an animal underneath him, he adjusts his position on his knees and leans up to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Your second orgasm is fast approaching with the added stimulation, but it’s not until Mingyu decides to lean down and once again suction his mouth over your clit do you arch almost painfully off the bed, a garble of curses all that’s able to leave your mouth. The heat pools in your belly hot and heavy and this time it feels so much more intense than the first.

This time when you cum, an honest to god shriek rips from you, everything feels too fucking good and your senses going into overdrive. You feel your orgasm spilling out of you as you squirt for maybe only the second time in your life.

“Holy shit, Y/n. You just squirted all over me,” Mingyu marvels.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” Joshua finishes and Mingyu hums in agreement. You’re aware that they’re praising you and you’re giddy about it as the fog in your brain settles and eases away.

“How are you feeling, baby girl?” Mingyu checks in with you after you’ve had time to come down. “Do you want to stop? Because we definitely can.”

“Yeah, this can be it for tonight if you want it to be.”

“No!” You tiredly object, shaking your head furiously. “I’ve wanted this forever. Please fuck me? Shua, Gyu - ‘want you both so bad.” You hope your words convey your need for both of them, adding in a low-effort pout for good measure.

They both look at each other, having another one of their telepathic conversations without you. Instead of saying anything, you open your knees, sopping cunt on display to show them just how much you mean what you say.

A few seconds tick by before Joshua speaks. “Who do you want first?”

“Both of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“A thousand, million times yes. Please don’t make me beg anymore, you said you were being nice to me this time.” You hope you’re batting your eyelashes enough to encourage them to scoop you up and finally do something.

Thankfully it works as both men move into action, maneuvering you and themselves into a position that works best. You all agreed on no condoms since you’re all clean and you’re well-protected yourself.

Joshua’s underneath you as you straddle him, his lips moving sloppily against yours as Mingyu kneels behind you. Joshua has done a good job of distracting you with groping and kissing as Mingyu preps you, already one finger deep in your ass.

When he adds more lube and eases in a second finger, you hiss against Joshua’s mouth at the added stretch.

“Ssh, you’re doing so good pretty girl.” More praise is sung by Joshua as he massages your tits.

“Our good, pretty girl,” Mingyu adds from behind, the other hand that isn’t working you open rubs, and gently kneads your ass cheeks, both men working to relax you.

Their words and touches help, and soon, Mingyu is pulling his fingers from you and tapping the swollen, lubed-up head of his dick against your puckered hole.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you as he does. Slowly, he starts to push into you, this stretch stinging so much more. When you let a whimper slip, Joshua’s hold around your middle tightens, keeping you close to him and peppering your face in kisses.

Fuck, Mingyu is big. You finally had a chance to see what you were in for as you were all getting into position and this would certainly be a feat for you - quickly seeing how literally everything about Mingyu is big. You already knew this would be a stretch you’ve never felt.

Mingyu is true to his word and pushes into you gradually, inch by tantalizing inch. It seems like hours go by before he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither of you moving until everyone is in position.

“Doing okay, darling?” Taking a deep breath you nod at Joshua and he gives you another kiss before lifting his hips, lining himself up with your pussy, and pushing in, just as carefully as Mingyu had. Joshua’s cock isn’t as big as Mingyu, but it’s still impressive enough and plenty thick, the girth alone stretching your walls almost painfully.

Once he’s buried in all the way, no one moves, letting you adjust. Your eyes slip closed as you register how impossibly full you feel and take in how heavy all of you are breathing as you wait.

“Please move,” you finally stutter.

Both of them give your body a shallow thrust to test and that alone has a long, drawn-out moan spilling out of you. Gradually, their thrusts get faster and rougher, giving you more and more until they’re both full-on drilling into you, your body jolting back and forth so fast you can barely keep up.

The wet, squishing sounds of your arousal and the lube fill the room along with the smacks of skin on skin and the harsh spanks Mingyu has started leaving on your ass.

“You’re taking us so well, baby girl,” Mingyu pants out, his hands feeling like fire as they press indents into your skin.

“So, so well, pretty girl. I didn’t know you could take two cocks at the same time,” Joshua’s words are breathy as he bucks his hips up into yours, but they’re no less dirty and teasing.

“I-I’m so f-full…” To your ears, your words sound like gibberish as they both find the perfect rhythm that has your eyes rolling back.

“Yeah? You like being stuffed like this? Two cocks shoved inside of you?” Joshua’s hands are still wrapped around you to hold you steady, punctuating his words with sharp rolls of his hips.

“You like both of us abusing your tight little holes?” Those words come from Mingyu and are punctuated with his fingers in your hair this time, his nails scraping your scalp.

“Yes! Fuck yes, fill me up,” The all too familiar heat starts to churn in your stomach, your walls clenching around both of them as you feel your orgasm brewing. “I’m so fucking close, please!” It’s a needy cry but both of them hear you, their paces becoming quicker and rougher. Mingyu’s fingers stayed buried in your hair, pulling you up just enough to expose your neck. One of Joshua’s big hands moves to grip your neck, using it for leverage to snap his hips up more.

“Gonna cum for us again, pretty girl?” You can’t nod well with his hand where it is, but you hope he at least hears the ‘yes’ that you rasp out between the whines and moans you’ve been letting out.

Your hands, which have been holding you up, start to wobble at the force they’re fucking into you, but you still do your best to move one up to rest over Joshua’s still on your neck. You squeeze around it to try and indicate to him what you want.

“Oh? I think our girl likes to be choked, Gyu.” Involuntarily, you clench and Joshua falters in his pace a little. “Fuck, she just squeezed me so hard - that must be a yes.”

“I think she likes getting her hair pulled too.” Mingyu tugs hard at his words and you manage out a pathetic squeak in response.

Now that they both know what you like, they don’t hold back as they take you to the end. Mingyu tugs your hair so hard it burns, but you like the pain so it pushes you closer.

“Oh, oh oh! Gonna c-cum!” And then you do, with Joshua’s fingers around your neck tightening, succeeding in cutting off your air as you cum for a third time. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, fireworks exploding behind clenched eyelids, and your body goes rigid as the pleasure engulfs you.

“Shit… fuck!” Mingyu cums right after you, not bothering to pull out as he shoots his hot load into you. His groans turn into breathless sighs of your name until he begins slowing down, fucking his cum back into with shallow thrusts.

When Joshua cums next, he releases the grip on your neck so you can greedily gulp air back into your lungs. Both of Joshua’s hands hold your thighs, his nails biting into the skin, as he bucks up into you one, two, three more times before pulling out and cumming between your bodies. His whines are just as desperate as you and Mingyu’s as he empties himself, relishing in the feeling of his dick pressed between your sticky bodies.

Your shared, ragged breaths fill the room, their hips slowing to a leisurely pace until eventually, they stop moving altogether. Mingyu takes his time easing himself out of you and you feel his cum trickle down your ass, earning a groan from behind you. Now that you’re empty again, your eyelids fall shut, draping yourself completely over Joshua’s body.

You hear him chuckle from under you, your body wants so badly to drift off to sleep.

He can tell, because Joshua doesn’t let you do so, telling you everyone needs to clean up first. You try to object, wanting to power down right there, but they will hear nothing of it.

Mingyu is tasked with taking you to the shower and cleaning you up while Joshua changes your extremely soiled sheets. You spend most of the shower leaning against Mingyu’s chest, but he’s more than happy to do most of the work to clean you.

Joshua comes in at some point and fits himself into the small shower with both of you, sandwiching you between both men once again. His gentle hands rub circles on your back, applying light pressure to your sorest muscles.

When everyone is clean again, Mingyu helps you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel, starting to dry you off. He removes your shower cap - which you luckily weren’t too fucked out to forget to tell him you needed - and leans down to place a small kiss on your nose. Mingyu smiles from ear to ear at the giggle you let out and he can’t help but give you a few more pecks all over the rest of your face.

He and Joshua help you back to your bedroom and you immediately crawl into bed, your satin pillowcase practically calling your name.

“Wait, Y/n, what pajamas do you want?”

Shaking your head at Joshua, you finally reach the top of your sheets and burrow into the bed. “No pajamas. I usually sleep naked when Cheol is out of the apartment.”

“Say no more!” Mingyu flops himself down onto the bed without a second thought, efficiently trapping you under the covers.

“Gyu, let me out!”

“Not until you say something nice to me!”

You let out a laugh and feel around the covers to try and find his sides. “Now it makes sense why you always want to be babied - you have a praise kink!” When you find what feels like his toned torso, you grab at him, tickling him the best you can through the fabric.

Mingyu lets out a shrill yelp and flings himself off of the bed to avoid your hands. Joshua bursts into laughter along with you and moves to uncover you from the bed linen. Your first sight is his beautiful smile, his eyes crinkling into the most perfect half-moon shapes. Whenever Joshua looks at you like this - his most beautiful, carefree self - you want so badly to kiss him and experience the moment with him. This time, you remember that now you can do that and so you do. Without a second thought, Joshua is kissing you back, a smile still on his lips as you melt into him. Everything about tonight has felt so perfect - especially this moment right here.

“Hey, me next!” Mingyu whines as the bed dips next to you as he climbs under the covers. You and Joshua pull away, the stars in his eyes twinkling at you, and he lets you go to give your attention to Mingyu.

“I didn’t realize I was getting such a bratty boyfriend,” you tease as you turn to face him, his arms zipping out to wrap around you and pull you close.

“Don’t act so surprised. You’ve known me long enough that you should’ve known. And now it’s too late and you’re stuck with me!” Mingyu winks at you, swooping down to kiss you. It’s true - your beautiful boy has been a big baby from the first day you met him when he whined to Wonwoo about sharing one of his books with him.

“You’re lucky I think you’re too cute to say no to you.” You get the words out in between kisses and chuckles.

“You say that as if you don’t use your cuteness for evil just like him.” Joshua accuses as he flips off the bedroom light, your automatic nightlight across the room glowing a soft orange. He’s last to climb into bed, moving to spoon you with an arm around your waist.

“When do I do that?!”

Scoffing, he gives you a pointed look as he leans on his elbow to look down at you. “All the time! Yesterday when we were at that sushi place you batted your cute little eyelashes at me every time my sushi got to the table and you wanted a taste.” Okay, he’s got you there - you had intentionally pulled out the big guns to taste everything new he ordered.

“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t let yourself be swayed so easily.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you just victim-blamed me!”

“And I’ll do it again!”

Mingyu cracks up, his whole body shaking as he laughs.

“Hey, don’t encourage her!”

“But she’s funny and cute!”

“Tsk, tsk. Don’t be so defiant baby boy.” Mingyu chokes on his spit at Joshua’s teasing, staring wide-eyed at the older man from over your head.

“You’re so evil! I remember when you first moved to Korea - you were so sweet! I blame Jeonghan!”

“How about all of us are equally cute and Jeonghan is the root of all evil and now we can go to bed okay? Y’all bicker too loudly to sleep through.” You efficiently silence them, Mingyu sticking his tongue out at Joshua in the dim light but that’s the end of it. Goodnights are passed around and you get two goodnight kisses, one on your forehead and one on your cheek. That’s all you need to fall asleep, surrounded by so much warmth.

Sunlight peeks through your blinds in the morning and when you adjust in your sleep, it leaks through your eyelids. You squint your eyes open a crack, glaring at the offending rays. After blinking a few times to adjust to the light, you glance down, smiling warmly at the sight. Mingyu’s much larger body is attached to your side, his long limbs wrapped and tangled in yours. You can’t see his face from this angle, but his slow breathing lets you know he’s still asleep, shuffling just a bit as he snuggles closer into your chest.

You turn your head to the opposite side, both to get away from the streaks of the sun and to see Joshua’s sleeping face. His eyes are still closed, and the corner of his plush lips are curled up a little, even as he’s dreaming. For what feels like the hundredth time since last night, you’ve felt like this whole thing is a dream, finally having the men you care about the most here with you like this.

“Morning, pretty girl,” Joshua whispers suddenly and you can’t help but jump. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out staring at him.

“Morning, Shua.” He opens his eyes and meets yours, your skin heating up under his gaze. “I didn’t mean to stare!”

“Oh, that’s too bad because I was staring at you on purpose before you woke up.” He winks at you, succeeding in flustering you.

“You’re just going to spend this whole relationship being a worse flirt than you were before last night aren’t you!”

“Mmhmm. And just like Gyu said, it’s too late and you’re stuck with me!” Joshua’s expression turns wicked, mischief clear on his face.

“Shua no, Gyu’s still asleep!” Joshua doesn’t listen, because of course he doesn’t, and digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you. “N-No!” You can’t help but scream, trying to squirm away from him.

Your sudden yell has Mingyu’s head springing up, bleary-eyed but still panicking. “What’s going on?!”

A sudden commotion in the hallway catches your attention and Seungcheol comes barrelling into your open room, hands raised in fight mode. “Y/n are you alright?!” He freezes when he sees you, Mingyu, and Joshua, wrapped up in your sheets, also frozen and staring back at him. “Oh. I thought you were being hurt.” His tone is flat as he drops his fists.

“Cheol, you’re back early! I thought you wouldn’t be back until the evening.” His lack of reaction upon walking into this has some of your embarrassment starting to ebb away.

“Yeah, my brother and I had a fight so I ended up leaving early. I just got home a few minutes ago.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your roommate snorts, his eyebrows raising at you. “You don’t exactly seem to be in the position to talk about my feelings, Y/n.”

“Oh. Well, give me a few minutes and we’ll get up and we can come sit down with you!”

“Nah, Jeonghan is expecting me at his place. I was texting him last night about our fight so he said I can come over when I got in. I just wanted to drop my suitcase off.”

“You texted him first about the fight?! Why not me?!” You huff at him. Seungcheol always confided in you first - since you lived together it just came naturally that you vent to each other first when something upsets you.

“Now be for real, Y/n - you were clearly quite busy after we texted last. Would you have answered me if I texted you at like three?” The struggle to try and remember when exactly Mingyu had started eating you out in the kitchen is real and you can’t come up even a guess of what time that was. “That’s what I thought. See you kids later and stay safe!”

The three of you say your goodbyes, listening to his retreating footsteps before you hear him stop.

“Oh, and if you get a bunch of messages in the group chat all of a sudden, you may wanna just mute it.” He calls down the hall.

Frowning, you share a look with Mingyu and Joshua before answering. “What? Why?”

You almost ask him again, thinking he left without answering, but then he quickly rushes the answer. “Because Jeonghan started a betting pool when he figured out - on his own may I add - that you liked Joshua and Mingyu and he wanted to see how long it would take you to confess to them and I have to tell him he lost!” He speaks fast, but you still hear every word.

“He what?! Seungcheol get back here!” Instead of an answer, he sounds as if he runs down the hall and a second goes by before the front door opens and then closes.

It’s just like you said - Jeonghan is the root of all evil. You fully intend on sending him a scathing text message, but then Mingyu starts kissing your shoulder and neck at the same time that Joshua begins drawing slow yet deliberate patterns over your thighs and hips. They probably sense your aggravation and are easily intending to redirect you. Mingyu also mentions something about making you breakfast in between smooches which also diverts your attention - your empty stomach very noticeable.

Their distraction tactics work of course because soon your mind is redirected to Joshua and Mingyu only and no one else. You’ll deal with the rest of the world later - your ain’t shit friend included - deciding to instead focus on the two beautiful men you get to not only stay friends with but also that you get to be so much more with, which feels like a dream within itself.

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cheolhub · 1 year

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ALL MINE — XU MINGHAO ࿐

summary. minghao is yours and you are his... his only.

wc. 3.5k

warnings. jealous!hao <3 f!nger!ng, oral (f. receiving), a lottt of possessiveness, kinda mean dom!hao, sub!reader lots of teasing, unprotected s2x, creamp!e, pet names, other members having a crush on u— MINORS DNI 18+

note. happy me weekend ^^ enjoy this fic of my beloved (or don’t, ur choice) reblogs and feedback r so greatly appreciated <3 also @toruro ily

minghao doesn’t like sharing. he hates it. especially when it comes to you. you’re his, for his eyes only. it’s the only reason why he refuses to bring you to hang out with his other friends. seokmin can’t keep his eyes off you, mingyu latches onto you like a puppy in love, jeonghan teases you and makes you giggle– a sound that wouldn’t be as infuriating if it wasn’t caused by another man.

“i wanna see them, too, hao,” you pout after he tells you he’s going out with some of the members.

for some reason, minghao feels his stomach churn. why do you want to see them so badly?

he doesn’t want to be controlling, not in the slightest, but he feels his blood boil every time his loser friends try to make advances on you. it’s not your fault you’re a doll, of course, but that’s all the more reason to keep you to himself.

he sighs, “it’s just dinner, baby, chan and vernon wanted to try this new restaurant and mingyu invited me–”

“still not hearing an excuse as to why i can’t go?” you interrupt, furrowing your eyebrows. “c’mon hao, i haven’t seen them in weeks ‘cause you’ve been gatekeeping them.” you whine from the bed, watching him mess with his hair in front of the mirror.

if only you knew how ironic this was.

eventually, he gives up and allows you to tag along and it’s very apparent how unhappy he is about it. you can tell with his stoic expression and how quiet he is on the drive there. you’re partially worried as to why he was so insistent on getting to stay home, but those worries fade once you see chan, vernon, and mingyu sitting at a table waiting for the two of you.

minghao’s arm wraps around your waist as soon as the small group notices you making your way over. you look up at him confused at his sudden switch in behavior, but ultimately decide against saying anything.

“Y/N!” mingyu cheers, standing from his chair quickly to greet you with a bear hug.

you beam, giggling as he pulls you from minghao’s death grip just to put you in another, “hi, gyu!” you attempt to say, but it’s muffled into his large chest.

when he finally lets go to greet your boyfriend, you look over to vernon and chan and greet them as well, “hi channie, hi vernon,” you smile at them sweetly and they can’t help but smile back while greeting you, both of their cheeks heating up.

you soon feel minghao’s touch on your skin again, and all of a sudden you’re closer to him than you were before. you look up at him for the second time, a look of concern painting your features, “hao?” you murmur.

he ignores your call, “sit at the end next to chan, love,” he tells you instead. he can’t have mingyu slobbering all over his girl.

mingyu protests sitting back in his seat, but minghao isn’t having it. he gently pushes you to the empty seat at the end of the table while he takes the empty one next to mingyu.

dinner goes well. for you at least, and it’s hell for minghao. he’s usually so patient– it takes so much to get him worked up, but with every giggle that leaves your mouth and every single look the boys send your way, he feels the temperature of his blood rise.

the last straw was chan offering to take you to see a new movie– as if minghao would let that slide.

before you could respond to the question, minghao scoffs loudly, “yeah, no.”

he doesn’t want to be that boyfriend. he doesn’t want to forbid you from hanging out with anyone. especially not his best friends. in fact, he should be happy that all of his friends love you, but that’s not what really pisses him off. it’s the fact that most of his friends want you that has him fuming.

he abruptly stands from his chair, pulling out his wallet to throw a few bills on the table, “baby, i don’t feel that great, do you mind if we leave early?” his voice pleading as he looks down at you with a frown.

you take in his expression and you instantly feel bad. “yeah, ‘s okay, we can go.” you murmur, standing to your feet. “bye everyone,” your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, yet you do so anyway at their confused faces before taking minghao’s hand.

he says his goodbyes and pulls you out of the restaurant, hurrying to the car.

you’re not sure what to say as you notice his tight grip on the steering wheel. you don’t want to ask if he’s angry because he very obviously is. you say the only other thing you think will help, “hao… ‘m sorry,”

he immediately softens at your voice, knuckles returning to their original color as he eases up. “what? why are you sorry, love?”

you frown, “well, i know you didn’t want me to come and i get it… some people don’t wanna mix their love life with their friends ‘cause it gets messy.” you ramble in one breath. “i don’t wanna cause any problems–”

“baby, stop, i could never be mad at you, are you kidding?” he turns his head from the road and glances at you for a slight second. you catch a glimpse of his face and you can tell he’s being dead serious. “Y/N… i know you don’t see it, but my friends are attracted to you.”

“what?” you sputter incredulously. “no they aren’t!”

he rolls his eyes, “they most certainly are. i can’t blame them, though, you’re beautiful, but…” he mumbles as you beam at him.

“but?” you question, a tiny, hopeful lilt in your voice.

“but… you’re mine.” he states roughly, feeling his anger bubble up again. “you’re mine and it pisses me off that they think they can have you,” he nearly growls. “they don’t deserve you.”

he was jealous? it made a bit of sense, you think to yourself, but the possessive way he spoke of you… that was new.

you’re not sure what turns you on the most about the profound concept, but it does. you feel your face burn and your stomach swirl in anticipation. you feel your ego boost and the words come out of your mouth before you can comprehend. “and you do?” you say teasingly. “deserve me, i mean?”

“oh, sweetheart,” he croons, a small smirk playing on his lips. “of course i do.”

minghao knows he’s the best for you. he knows it in the way you never want to leave his side. he knows it in the way he’s made you smile every single day the two of you have been together. he knows it in the way he makes you scream and cry and shake while you cum for him every night.

he has no problem proving it to you when you get home, pushing you against the cold door and instantaneously pressing his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. the way you let out a gaspy moan of surprise has his cock twitching as if it’s begging to be inside of you already. you relish in the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to invite him in deeper. his arms move to pull you into him, letting your tits press against his chest.

you don’t really remember how he got you to your room- you can recall the slight stumbling and the way he tightly gripped your body- but you could honestly care less. the only thing you care about is him and the burning desire in your body to just be one with him. the clothing he impatiently shreds off your body don’t matter as long as he fucks you soon.

you whimper softly as he shoves you onto the bed before removing his own clothes. you watch him strip and, god, you feel so fucking lucky. the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing while your arousal soaks through your panties– the only piece of clothing he left on your body.

you feel like you might be able to keep your composure for a bit longer before he slips his cock from his boxers. this time, you moan, “minghao!” your pussy drools and drools and it just won’t stop. his length is so pretty– it’s long and flushed a pretty pink color at the tip. you understand now that you don’t want him. you need him.

“what is it, love?” he sends you a faux pout, hand languidly stroking himself up and down.

“please,” you whine.

his head cocks to the side as he feigns innocence. “please what, baby? you have to tell me what you want.”

“just…show me ‘m yours… show me, please.” you exhale, biting your lip as soon as the words exit your mouth.

he doesn’t react for a second, but then you see his hand halt and the mocking pout is replaced with a smile. not the endearing kind of smile that he usually sends your way, no, this was different. this smile was sinful… unholy even.

he coos gingerly. “oh? you want me to fuck you?” the condescending tone is masked with that syrupy sweet voice that has your stomach doing backflips. you feel so small under his sadistic gaze and you would hate it if it didn’t turn you on so much. “want me to fuck you till all you can think about is your hao making you feel good?”

you let out a tiny gasp before sending him a pretty pout. your bottom lip juts out while you eagerly nod your head at him.

“say it.” he demands while dipping into the mattress, his hand ghosting up your leg causing goosebumps to arise on your heated skin.

“yes…” you whisper as his hand gets closer and closer to your ruined panties.

clearly unsatisfied with your answer, he reels back. “no.” he says gruffly, shaking his head. “say it. all of it.”

you whine again, growing desperate, “yes! yes, hao, want you to fuck me stupid– please? please fuck me, wanna be yours, only yours,” you buck your hips slightly in hopes that he’ll finally give you what you’ve been craving.

it feels like you’ve been waiting a century for him to respond, your mind going to your wildest thoughts. thoughts of him pumping you full of his cum, marking your skin so bad that (even with all the makeup in the world) you couldn’t hide them, fucking you till you see stars– but as soon as you feel his hands tug at your panties, you come back to earth.

“god– fuck, baby,” he groans as he sees your slick cunt. a string of your arousal clings to your panties as he tries to pull the soiled material off. “who’s got you this wet, hm?”

as if he didn’t fucking know.

“you, baby, only you.” you gasp, body heating at the fact that he’s about to touch you. “hao, please, can’t take the teasing ju– shit!”

minghao’s two fingers plunge into your sopping heat, instantly curling inside of your gummy walls. his fingers are soaked immediately and you know because you can feel your wetness beginning to seep from your hole every time he pulls them out.

his fingers, his hands– they’re so much bigger than yours. it’s incomparable. the way he can fill you with just his two fingers while three of yours don’t do the same has your head spinning.

when he curls his fingers in that spot, you mewl and he knows to keep going. he hits your g-spot over and over and over till you’re clamping around his fingers, ready to explode.

“gonna cum for me, pretty?” he pants, extremely turned on by the sight of you twitching and jerking just because of two of his fingers. “gonna let go and soak my fingers, right? ‘cause you’re mine?”

“mhm!” you whimper, nodding your head, unable to give him the verbal response.

his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the bud while relentlessly finger fucking you into oblivion. you gasp, moaning out his name over and over till it dies on the tip of your tongue.

your thighs tremble and before you know it, you’re cumming all over his fingers on a high pitched squeal. your pussy tightens, halting his movements and you shake while grinding on his hands to ride out your orgasm.

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, look so pretty like this,” he nearly moans, pulling his fingers out of you. “can you give me more?”

“y-yes!” you exclaim, stuttering since you’re still recovering from your euphoric high. “please, more. i wan’ more.”

he hums, hooking his arms under your knees, eyes lust-ridden as he looks at you, “what do you want now, love? my mouth or my cock?”

you ponder for a minute, debating on the options. you want to say both because god only knows how his cock fills you so nicely. how it always hits all the right places that turn you into a whimpering mess for him. his mouth, though, is heaven-sent. the way he’ll tongue at your hole and his nose bumps your clit gets you so messy, something you both love.

meekly, you ask, “can i have both?”

he tsks, but he can’t hide the smile on his face, “greedy girl…”

he doesn’t wait for your reply, immediately positioning himself in between your legs to eat you out. he presses a tiny kiss to the inside of your thigh and your heart warms at the domestic gesture. even though he’s done it a million times before, you’ll never get over the fuzzy feeling it gives you.

when his mouth wraps around your sensitive clit, you inhale sharply, holding it in your lungs. he moans at the taste of your arousal and cum mixing on his tongue.

his delicate noises send shockwaves through your entire body and your hands can’t help but fly to his head, fingers threading through the silky hair. when his mouth moves to shove his tongue into your leaky hole, you fully choke on a gasp.

“hngg, baby,” you cry softly, arching your back and subtly grinding into his face. the grip he has on your legs tightens as he tirelessly sucks and slurps on your arousal. with your eyes screwed shut, you throw your head back and moan, “fuck, l-like that!”

he hums again, “pussy’s s’good,” he mumbles into your cunt. “tell me how you feel.”

the vibrations of his words prove to be too much as they make you whine again. “so so so good, mouth feels so good, hao, love it so much!” you babble, words slightly rushed and slurred. “fuh-fuck, and you, hao– i love you so much. only you.”

he chuckles against your heat, digging his fingernails into the plush skin of your thighs. your stomach churns as your eyes shut close. you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm and you fear your brain may turn to mush.

when you open your eyes again you notice he’s looking up at you, stars in his own like he’s completely enamored of you. his tongue drags up your slit slowly before he reaches your puffy, swollen clit. he groans against you when your grip in his hair tightens, tugging harshly at his scalp.

he flicks his tongue against the bud, loving the way your thighs tremble in his hands. you whine and try to buck your hips against his mouth for more. your attempts at grinding against his face prove to be futile when he pins you down and detaches his mouth from your needy bud.

“no no, baby, keep going!” you whine, trying to push his head back, but he shakes your hands off his head. you pout, “gonna make me cry, hao, please keep going,”

he smirks, “then cry, baby, don’t stop on my account.” he says, untangling from your legs. “you were the one who said you wanted both, did you not?”

you whine again, “i did, but i wanted to cum!”

“i think i spoil you too much, love– you just came, no? don’t tell me you forgot already,”

“you don’t spoil me enough, hao,” you huff with a frown. “i didn’t forget, i just wanted to cum again….”

“and you will if you’re a good girl,” he says, hands grabbing at the backs of your knees to push your legs toward your chest. “now are you gonna stop being a brat and let me fuck you, or do you still have more you wanna complain about?”

you shake your head, “i’ll be good…”

“that’s my girl.” he coos, aligning his cock with your hole with a big smile on his face. you gasp feeling the tip press against your aching cunt, but before he continues, he whispers, “now tell me one more time just how bad you want my cock.”

you curse under your breath, obliging with rushed words. “hao, i want it so bad– you know i want it, please don’t tease. i wanna feel you.” you plead.

minghao smiles brightly at you, head spinning at your words. he loves the conformation, loves knowing that he has you wrapped around his fingers. he loves knowing you’re all his to fuck and tease forever.

and so he pushes into your tight cunt, letting the tip stretch you open before cautiously filling you up with his cock. you sob, velvety walls wrapping him up into a tense hug as you clench around him.

“fuck,” he moans, dragging out the word as he bottoms out. the head of his cock reaches deep, scraping against your spongy sweet spot. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight.”

you moan, clenching him tighter. “just fuck me.”

he grunts at the demand, pulling out and slamming into you roughly, “d’ya forget your manners, sweetheart? my cock has you so stupid you forgot how to say please?” he nearly spits as he begins to set his pace.

you choke on your words, throwing your head on to the pillow and arching your back. “s-sorry.” you mewl out and it seems as if the apology makes his speed pick up. with every passing second, you feel him fuck into you faster and faster. the room quickly fills with your joint moans and the sound of his balls slapping against your sloppy pussy.

he’s quiet for a while, just moaning and grunting, but all of a sudden you hear him growl and feel his thrusts get sharper– deeper. “look at me, baby.” he says breathily.

your eyes crack open and you're met with minghao hovering over you, face close to yours. his breath fans across your face and he stares at you intimately. his gaze is so hard and lust-ridden that you almost feel yourself melt into a puddle under him.

his lips ghost against yours, “think anyone could ever fuck you like this?”

“n-no, god, never,” you whine, feeling your brain empty with the way his hips slam against yours vigorously.

he groans, cock twitching at your response. “that’s right. you know why?”

you probably would know the answer if you didn’t feel like you were ascending into another dimension, so you dumbly ask, “w-why?”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts, the tip of his cock now fully hitting your spot with rigor and precision. “because you’re mine. all fucking mine.”

you cry, body jolting with every thrust into that spot. “fuck, hao! i’m gonna cum again, please don’t stop.”

he moans out your name, giving you more and more, “yeah? gonna cum for me? am i making you feel good?”

you sob loudly, nodding your head and letting your eyes close, “y-yes! uh-huh, gonna cum just for you– makin’ me feel so good, hao, fuck,”

you can nearly taste your orgasm, feeling your stomach tighten and your pussy clench tightly around your lover's length. it quickly bubbles up in the pit of your tummy and when you hear him breathily demand, “cum for me, pretty baby,” there’s nothing you can do to stop your release.

you cum, coating his cock in honeyed arousal as you shake and tremble under him. the moans that leave your mouth are so pretty and minghao feels himself going crazy. you’re all his. only his. he’s beyond lucky that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this.

it has his cock twitching, and without warning, he’s pressing his cock all the way inside of you, spraying your walls with his warm release. he lets out a soft whimper when you clamp around him even tighter, keeping him trapped between your worn, messy walls.

“hao,” you whine mindlessly, body still twitching under his.

“baby,” he replies back, panting out the pet name.

you swallow a whimper, mumbling out, “thank you… for showing me ‘m all yours.”

his heart squeezes in his chest and he chuckles at your words, “anytime, my love.”

taglist🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol

#minghao smut #minghao x reader #the 8 smut #seventeen smut #svt smut

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liillyliilly · 2 months

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mentos and coke-a-cola kuroo tetsurou x reader words; 15706 synopsis: as vice captain of a co-ed intramural team, you found yourself increasingly close to the members of your team. including the witty, loving, captain of yours, kuroo tetsurou.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

You think to yourself, how many times did you have to tell Kuroo Tetsurou that you were not in fact his personal gym journal? Sitting at the central table of the university library, you had to quickly set your phone down. Then, you opened your laptop to text him, glad that your laptop blurred photos unless you had clicked on them.

This hadn’t been the first time he’d sent you photos of him. Nor had it been the second. By the eighth time it had become routine, he’d send what he considered the ‘best’ photos from the week to you, and expect detailed analysis and thoughts on the way his joggers hung low on his hips with Calvin Klein underwear showing the brand label boldly.

He always posed without his face showing in the photos. Just glimpses of his chin or cheek in the photos. Even though that had always been your only suggestion for him, just a little more of his face and a little less of the v-shaped muscles near his hips.

Kuroo never understood why the most obvious form of flirting never worked on you. Perhaps it had been because of your systematic desensitization to the possibility that he was trying to overtly make you see him as attractive. Perhaps it was all in his mind. The concept that photos could equate to romance. Or how he began deluding himself into finally overcoming the imposed relationship barriers you had begun building once you joined his recreation team for intramural volleyball at The University of Tokyo.

TO TETSUROU: kuroo put the softcore porn thirst traps away 🤢

FROM TETSUROU: i need your opinion

TO TETSUROU: ??? my opinion? i don’t have an opinion on your abdominal muscles or your back or your arms. I need to STUDY the human ego not your body (my philosophy major homework is kicking my butt right now)

You flit from the message tab on your laptop, opening a pdf copy of your textbook to copy notes from. You just needed to finish two more chapters and then you would drop by Kuroo’s place for dinner. He had invited the whole team, but everyone else said that they couldn’t make it. You had tried to deny his offer, but everyone else in the team said that you should just accept the free food.

The part that you hadn’t known at that time was that there were two group chats related to your volleyball team, Consensual Sets. (The team name had all been Ito’s idea, the setter on your team. Kuroo had strongly suggested Setters of Catan, and you had proposed Block Party. In the end, Ito’s pun won the hearts of the rest of your seven member team.) There was one group chat that had everyone, and another that had everyone but you in the messaging history.

Kuroo had dubbed the secondary chat as his collection of wing-people. But mostly they were unhelpful in actually progressing his romance with you. But this time, the dinner he wanted to have was successfully handled by the other five members. It was simple for the rest of the team to just decline the offer due to fake excuses and then to strongly encourage you to go get food with Kuroo at the end of what had been a long week for you academically.

FROM TETSUROU: you drive me crazy 🤕 (just drop out of philosophy and switch your major, all the cool kids do that my dear confucius)

Kuroo was wiping sweat from his forehead using a towel in his bathroom. Instead of doing cardio at the gym, he had decided to just run back to his apartment on the outskirts of the university. That way he could shower before you’d show up to get food. He still didn’t have an idea about where to take you. There was a fine line between a potential date and forcing you to go to a fancy restaurant against your will. He didn’t want just to go to a drive-through, but then he remembered how much you loved the fries at that one burger shop.

He would always try to make you eat a balanced meal, trying to make your diet secretly better. It was all for your good though, because he was aiming to make you live to be 100 through his secret dietary aids he had been slowly integrating. Hell, you couldn’t even eat pizza without also craving a side salad now because of Kuroo’s insistent nature.

TO TETSUROU: i will forcibly remove my number from your phone pls give me peace of mind and stop acting as a shoulder devil for my future career choices

FROM TETSUROU: you love me really

And you did, you loved him like a best friend. Almost like an overbearing, annoying, childish older brother. But also, as a role model to some degree. If you could call being the captain of your co-ed volleyball recreation league team a role model figure in your life.

It was around thirty minutes later when you finally shoved your laptop into your bag and got onto your electric skateboard to get to Kuroo’s apartment.

Knocking a few times, you had shoved your board under your arm and unclasped your helmet.

He swung the door open with a big smile, “I got Thai. From Suguru’s mom’s restaurant, discounts for friends of that brat.”

You rested your board against the door once you had entered his apartment, removing your helmet and trying to pin down the hairs that had been rustled by your head protection.

You set your helmet down on the coffee table near the entrance, setting your board against the wall unobtrusively, “Suguru’s mom is such a sweetheart, remember when she brought food for our team after our big loss last year?”

Daishou’s mother also bought the team amulets, with Nagas (which you had learned were essentially snakes) surrounding a Buddha for good luck and for protection. Yours hung up in your living room, next to your roommates various other key chains. Before you left the house, you always rubbed the charm. If the luck Daishou’s mom seemed to have was due to the amulet, then there wouldn’t be any harm in trying to get some of it to rub off on you as well.

Kuroo pulls out a chair for you and you sit down proceeding to open some chopsticks. One pair for you, and then you open another for Kuroo, resting the wood utensils onto his plate. He opened the fridge and poured some glasses of water from his Brita.

He smiles to himself when he finally sits down, “We really couldn’t stay sad when we had khao soi and pad kra pao, and that mango sticky rice. I dream about that sticky rice literally every night.”

You agree, accepting the styrofoam box from Kuroo to get some rice and egg onto your dish. Kuroo was busy pouring curry onto his plate.

“It was so sad that we lost last year.” You chew your food, waving your chopsticks around a little in the air, “If only we had gotten more team practice time in, I think we almost could’ve been up to your level Tetsurou.”

Kuroo leans back into his chair, sipping his water, “It would take a lot more than just two practices a week to get everyone on our team last year up to my level. But this year, we might actually have a chance, The Consensual Sets have a lot of connecting people.” He sits forward again, getting some food into his mouth.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe Suguru agreed to join full time instead of just being an alternate! With his regular season on top of our intramural team, he’s gonna be so tired out.” You jab the chopsticks in Kuroo’s direction, emphasizing your point.

“At least he brought us a replacement alternate, Mika is gonna be great to have on the team- even with her lack of skills.”

You roll your eyes, “Mika has skills!”

“Sure.”

The other members of the team had joined Kuroo’s team for a variety of reasons. Ito Yuuta, the setter, joined because he wanted to beat his twin in intramurals this year- and because his friend from high school, Alba, was also on the team. Ito was also the only first year on your team. Alba, a spiker, joined because she needed something outside of her architecture major to keep her extra busy. She was a second year student like you.

Daishou and Mika, who came as a set due to their dating status, joined because Daishou had been convinced by Kuroo to join for fun. You suspected that Kuroo was still carrying some lingering sadness at Kenma not joining the university team, but Kenma was busy with his multi-pursuit endeavors to join a recreation league. Kenma did come to an occasional game to support his best friend though.

Mingzhe, the libero and defensive specialist, was an international student from China. He had joined the team because he was too busy with his Computer Engineering and Science double major to be apart of the regular team. The University had been devastated that Mingzhe denied their offer for him to join. But it only elevated your own team to have such a good player.

The reason you joined? Because you wanted friends. Kuroo had made a poster advertising his desire for people to join a small co-ed volleyball team. You had taken a photo of the poster, went to the open gym time that he had outlined, and the rest became history relatively quickly.

Kuroo hadn’t been captain last year though, it was a collection of older fourth and third years who made the team. All of whom were in the sports marketing major with Kuroo. But they weren’t really playing the game for the love of the sport, but rather for extra credit from their professors. The old team name had simply been ‘Extra Credit for Prof. Singh’s Sports Marketing 5910 Special Study Course’ but it was always shortened to ‘Special Study Kids’ on the excel spreadsheets that listed out opponents and playing time.

Kuroo had shifted the narrative, he wanted this year’s team to be for fun- genuine fun and love for volleyball. And you had found yourself enjoying playing, even though you were sharing a position with Kuroo who scared you with his ability to read the opponents. But Kuroo always told you that without your support blocks, then his own blocks wouldn’t work most of the time. That had been a major ego-boost.

He knew how to do that for a lot of people, you recall. Kuroo could make people feel special, feel seen, without having to do much except for just show off his sincere love for people. A person like him was rare to find even once in life, so you wanted to stick around him for a long time. (Even if Kuroo got onto your nerves, he balanced out his provocations with kindness.)

“Thanks for the food, I can’t believe everyone else said no to free food at your expense.” You pat your stomach, rolling your shoulders a little to get comfortable in the metal chairs Kuroo had.

“It’s no problem. What do you have planned for the rest of this month?”

Pursing your lips, you try to recall your schedule.

“Besides our two-a-weeks, games, and classes, I don’t have much else going on in September.”

“Do you want to come watch a game then?” Kuroo grabs your plate, starting the sink faucet, you grab a towel to dry off the two plates. He tries to bump you away with his hip, but you resist and narrow your eyes. He yields and hands you a cleaned dish to dry.

“Is it the game you were talking about at practice? The reunion game?” You set the ceramic dish onto the shelf, waiting for Kuroo to hand you the other plate to dry.

“Yeah, it’s a bunch of my buddies from high school, we wanted to play a game before some of our pals leave for other countries to play professionally. Remember Bokuto? I mentioned him a few times.”

“The owl furry guy?”

Kuroo chuckles, turning around and leaning against the sink to watch you put the other plate away onto the cupboard shelf. “Yes, the owl guy. And Kenma will be playing, and Akaashi, and Fukunaga, and Kai, and-”

“I think I get it. A Nekoma versus Fukurodani game?” You suggest.

You had met Fukunaga once before, when Kuroo took the team to a comedy show of his the day before a match some time ago. Fukunaga’s set had been so hilarious that you asked Kuroo to personally introduce you to the comedian. Kuroo had been hesitant, for reasons unknown to you, but ultimately gave in to you and introduced the pair of you.

Fukunaga had taken one look at you and immediately pointed out what he liked about you. Which made you laugh, Kuroo hadn’t been entertained by that joke though. His reaction had been furrowed eyebrows, a huff, and defensively folding his arms- you had pointed out how overly dramatic Kuroo could be sometimes. Fukunaga had just smiled and shook his head.

Kuroo clarifies about the game, “More like a Nekoma versus an agglomeration of other high schools. Hinata, this crazy little dude, and my protege Tsukishima will play with Akaashi and Bokuto.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, I’m in.”

He had texted you the details of where to go, when to be there, and what color to wear to show your support for Kuroo’s team. You had been tempted to wear anything but the red and black combo he asked you to wear, but in the end, you wanted to be a good friend and wore what he asked you to wear.

The game was intense, to say the least. A lot more yelling and commands came from Kuroo than you had seen during your own games. It was nearing the end of September, and instead of studying for an exam, you were here in a gym watching a group of cohorts from the Volleyball World of High Schoolers play to their heart’s contentment.

You screamed when Kuroo got a good block, and you remained quiet when the opposing team scored a point. One of the things you noticed was how much higher they had made the net. In the intramural league, the net was at least a few centimeters shorter than the one they were playing with.

The tall blonde made a face at Kuroo through the net, and you almost found yourself laughing at how Kuroo teased him back. A ginger with the jumping power of a kangaroo kept making the most insane plays you had ever seen, keeping you on the edge of your seat for most of the game.

Ultimately, the Nekoma reunion team takes the win. You could see Kenma’s sour expression from where you had been sitting. Kenma immediately went to sit on the bench to play on his nintendo when the rest of his team was clapping each other on the backs.

Kuroo waved you over, face beaming.

When he pulls you in for a hug, you realize your hands get wet, soaked, not even a little damp but instead dripping wet. But he keeps his arms tightly around your waist. It wasn’t one of the usual hugs you exchanged with him, where your arms crossed around his chest and he did the same. In this hug, he had wrapped both arms around your waist, which made you wrap neatly into his chest.

"Your jersey is soaked, did they pour water over you Tetsurou?" You chuckle a little, talking into his body almost.

"Nope. This is all homemade sweat."

You pull away from the hug, wiping your hands on your thighs. Only to realize that your red shirt is soaked through the front as well, an imprint of his body outline on yours. You grimace, knowing that you now smell heavily of a unique perfume you’d dub ‘Kuroo après le match de volley’.

Kuroo shrugs, then wraps his arms around you again, which earns him a groan from you.

"You love me really."

You don’t say anything in response, letting him have his moment.

The post-game dinner was fun, even if you did have to complain to Kuroo about him buying your food for you. He had been too insistent about paying, even secretly paying for you when you went to the restroom.

“You took the train, yeah?” Kuroo asks once you exit the restaurant.

“Yep.”

Nighttime on the bullet train in Tokyo back to the university was always your favorite. Being able to stuff your ears full of music while you watch the passing scenery had such a hold over your emotional well-being. During train rides like that you thought maybe you could study Ralph Waldo Emerson again. But then you push away the thought because you remembered how much of an annoyance you found reading his pieces. You would always prefer Thoreau to Emerson at the end of the day when talking about the Transcendentalist Movement.

Kuroo nods, yelling out, “Kenma, I’m gonna take the train, you’re good to head back to your house! Text you later!” He waves enthusiastically to Kenma, who just throws a thumbs-up in regard to Kuroo’s statement.

The walk is mostly silent, with hands brushing against each other. The train station is vaguely busy. Kuroo had changed into some joggers and a loose t-shirt that had a neckline that was a little too stretched out so you could see his collarbones and the start of his chest. The design of the shirt was a logo for a cologne brand, with cursive writing.

While waiting for the train, you kicked your feet against the pavement a little, listening to Kuroo talk about the game and his favorite moments. His passion for volleyball was clear, but it just wasn’t the only thing Kuroo wanted to do for the rest of his life. His love for teaching other people, and helping others achieve their own passion outweighed his personal feelings. He just had a heart so open and willing to help others, that the blurred lines of what he loved and what others loved had become interwoven.

His belief of lowering the net for others, that helping aspect of his personality shone through with your recreation team. Although it was a casual team, it also meant so much more to everyone because Kuroo’s appreciation and understanding for the volleyball essentials and foundations made everyone want to do better. Made everyone want to play volleyball.

The train roared in, and you lifted your head, going to stand near the yellow painted lines where the door would be near. You turned around, and Kuroo was still standing fairly far away.

“Tetsurou?” You held your hand out for him to take, an effort to urge him to wait nearby with you.

Kuroo freezes. In his mind, his slightly exhausted mind that had lowered inhibitions from physically exerting himself with the game earlier, the two options were to grab your hand or to play around with you. He let his teasing, flirtatious, scheming personality win out over his shyness and earnest kindness.

He bent down, and rested his chin in the palm of your hand, so you had ended up squishing his face slightly. Once you realized that it was his face in your hand, you tried to tug your hand away with a laugh and with your tongue peeking out between your teeth as you bit down on it.

Kuroo didn’t know how to stop when he was ahead. He used his hand to grab a hold of your wrist. Then he gently bit down on the space between your pointer finger and thumb, pressing a kiss to the skin immediately after. And he would’ve continued with the affectionate kisses to your hand, but you swallowed thickly and your fingers began to twitch.

You couldn’t comprehend why you had wanted him to keep going. It was knotting your stomach, and turning the gears in your brain.

He stood up properly, noticing how the train had stopped. He slid a hand into your hand that was still outstretched and stunned from his actions, “The train won’t wait for us, c’mon Confucious.”

That night, you had spent a lot of time looking up onto your ceiling. Tapping your tummy to make little songs as you run through the day you had experienced over and over again.

Your phone dings.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM TETSUROU: thanks for coming to the game! hope you had a good time watching. kenma got photos of us celebrating after nekoma grad team won

FROM TETSUROU: im really glad you wore red

Kuroo’s head is resting on his pillow, the light of his phone shining on his face as he lays on his bed in the dark. He can feel his palms sweating, and he keeps shoving his face into the pillow before taking a peek at his phone again. Under the blankets, his feet keep bouncing from the mattress as he fights against what feels like hypertension in his blood. You still hadn’t responded to his messages.

You looked at your phone for a moment, your eyes slightly static and blurry. You read his messages, trying to think of what to say. Your red shirt lays in your dirty clothes basket, and a grin starts to make your face hurt.

FROM TETSUROU: i think i love you

FROM TETSUROU: i love you a lot

FROM TETSUROU: do you think you could love me back?

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT THREE MESSAGES

You look at the notification that tells you Kuroo unsent texts that you hadn’t got the chance to read. You shrug, responding to the messages you did get a chance to read.

TO TETSUROU: the game was so much fun! wearing red for you was also fun, i felt like a cheerleader lowkey- i mean you should’ve seen some of the looks i got from this grandma who clearly just wanted to watch the game lol after the game tho! she said it was nice to see young people cheering so passionately so i guess her dirty looks were all in my mind

FROM TETSUROU: that’s hilarious- whose granny was it tho 💀

TO TETSUROU: no idea but she really liked you 🫣

FROM TETSUROU: 😐

TO TETSUROU: i’ll see you at practice next saturday! goodnight tetsurou, sleep well

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight ♥️

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT ONE MESSAGE

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight confucius 🙂

The first Saturday of October was a practice for the members of Consensual Sets. You were busy tossing serves over the net for Mingzhe to receive. Alba was jumping on Ito’s shoulders as she asked him repeatedly to let her tape up his fingers this time. Daishou and Mika were tugging on their knee pads, and when Mika started pouting at the way her nails got tugged by the fabric, Daishou knelt in front of her and pulled the pads up where they belonged with a huge smile as he looked up at her.

Daishou and Mingzhe wanted to do some quick laps outside, but you wanted to warm up by doing some flying dives. While the flying dives did hurt your elbows from impact catching your weight, they made for great practice to get you better prepared for your back row position duties. Alba finally got to tape up Ito’s fingers as he looked terrified at giving her the tape he used.

Mika decided to stretch out, only really getting ready to hit some serves for the rest of the team today. Her role as a support, and as an alternate wasn’t needed for most games, but in case of emergency, at least she had created a weapon for herself with that nasty jump float that makes you chew the inside of your mouth.

Fifteen minutes into the practice, when everyone was done warming up and getting water, you looked around the gym. The only other people here were a group of basketball guys playing a game of pick-up on the other end of the courts away from where you’d set up the net. You were the first one to notice a lack of one particular person.

“Does anyone know where Tetsurou is?” You ask, going over the bench were Mingzhe was meditating.

Ito shrugged, “Maybe he couldn’t make it today?”

Alba rests her chin on Ito’s shoulder, commenting, “Perhaps he’s sick? Our fearless leader lost to the measly germs of society. Damn it, I curse the bloodline of those germs.” She dramatically clenches her first and Ito tries to hide an amused smile on his face.

“I’ll text him, I’m sure he’s just running late.” Daishou says, accepting his phone from Mika.

You, as vice captain of the team, decide the best course of action is to start running some drills. 10 spikes, 10 serves, 10 receives, and then 10 blocks. Each person alternated the roles until everyones did their 10x4 drill.

Even after the drill, Kuroo still hadn’t shown up.

“Suguru, any sign of Tetsurou?” You question, getting some water.

Mingzhe, looking nearly sweatless and unaffected by the drills, is still meditating in the center of the court. Alba tried waving her hand in front of his face. But Mingzhe opened one eye right when she started making a face- which caused her to jump back in alarm. Ito audibly laughed at that exchange while adjusting his taped fingers, away from where Alba could see so that he didn’t hurt her feelings.

“He said he can’t make it, something about a presentation for a class of his, apparently it slipped his mind. But he did send me a list of what we should do today. Let’s go for two miles outside!” Daishou shouted out the instruction to the rest of the team, then patted you on the shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Tetsu would let you know if something happened to him. I think you’d be the first to know if he got hurt or sick or something. Trust him.”

After practice, you make your way to Kuroo’s building, the one where all his classes were held.

You scanned your badge and entered the building, appreciating the cool sports poster that Kuroo’s department had covering the walls. Tall posters of soccer players, basketball players, and even some table tennis players. The coolest one was a blue poster where a soccer player had altered edited eyes to seem like they shined gold, and there was a huge skeleton behind them making the player look imposing and strong. You snuck a photo of the poster, then shoved your phone back into your pocket.

The weight of the spam musubi you got for Kuroo, and the two cold banana drinks made your bag feel heftier than usual. In reality, the actual tangible weight didn’t affect anything. You just felt strange being in a building that wasn’t your own.

And you’d been thinking about Kuroo again. More specifically, the way he’d bitten and then kissed your hand. You felt your throat swallow thickly as your brain flashed images of what it might have been like if he had bitten and kissed elsewhere on your body. Of course, Kuroo had done it as a tease, a little game, you reason.

But why did your heart begin to stutter when you found him sitting in a niche, his hand in his hair as he scrolled through his laptop? He looked exhausted, and slightly upset. He was bouncing his leg, his knee hitting the top of the table occasionally.

You slid into the alcove opposite of Kuroo, pulling out the treats you got for him.

“Tetsurou, take a quick break.” You shoved the musubi and drink in his direction.

Kuroo shut his laptop, then looked from the food to your face then back to the food. He covered his face in his hands as he propped his elbows onto the table. His words were muffled by his hands, “Thank you.”

You reached out and touched his forearm, “It’s no problem, eat up.”

He tried to split the spam musubi but you shook your head, holding your hand up to deny him. He gave a downturned smile as he bit into the sustenance. He let out a hum, “This is really good, this is just what I needed.”

Sipping on the banana drink, you rested your foot overtop of his under the table.

“How did the presentation go?” You purse your lips, trying to give Kuroo your best hopeful look.

Kurooo grimaced a little, “Professor Singh said it needed some more work.”

“What was the grade?” You prepared yourself for the worst. That Kuroo failed and would need to disband the team that you’d grown so attached to. And your next game was in three weeks, at the end of October too.

“Oh he gave me full credit, said it was the best he’s seen this year. But if I want it to be my thesis project for senior year next year, then it would need more tuning. Then he proceeded to give me a list of corrections to make.” He pulled out a sheet of paper that was bulleted, Kuroo gave it to you to read and you started feeling bad for him.

He finished off the musubi, then rubbed his eyes, his reading glasses pushed up onto the top of his head in the process, “This isn’t even half of the things that need to be fixed. Professor Singh said he’d help me though, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

“Still, I’m sorry, that’s rough.” You suck in some air through your teeth, and click your tongue just barely, “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo waves his hand to diffuse the air between you two.

He rolls the sleeves of his white button up down, the arms are wrinkled, and he undoes the top button of his shirt, releasing his throat a little so he can relax into his spot. Kuroo sets his head on the table, his hand on the bottled drink you had gotten him, he rocks the bottle around in circles, the liquid sloshing inside.

You bite the inside of your mouth, racking your brain to look for anything that could possibly ease Kuroo’s contemplations.

“Did you still want to try my electric skateboard out?”

Kuroo jolts up, sitting with his back straight.

“Hell yes. Please teach me.” He holds his hands flat together in front of his face in what you recognized as some kind of prayer posturing.

“Okay, my dorm is just a few miles away, let’s head out.” You pull your backpack over your shoulders as Kuroo tucks his laptop into the shoulder bag he has.

For a moment, you fight against the urge to hold your hand out for him to take.

When you do end up holding your hand out, ready to accept his, Kuroo wipes his hand against his thigh discreetly before he rushes to grab a hold of your hand. His hand is bigger than yours, more rough, but it’s warm and comforting with the way that he intertwines your fingers with his. He swings your connected hands back and forth as he starts talking about the upcoming game, and how he’ll go into the gym with Daishou to join in on Daishou’s regular practices with the university volleyball team tomorrow.

Kuroo was not built for your skateboard, but he had fun trying to balance on it as you tried to support him with hands on his waist.

“I’m ticklish there.” He feels his stomach tighten when you squeeze his sides.

“Blah, I’m trying to prevent you from eating dirt. I can’t hold you by the shoulders since you’re too tall standing on the board.” You explain, keeping one foot on the back of the board to keep it from moving too much as Kuroo wiggles around trying to find a balance.

You probably spent two hours trying to get him to actually start the board up and go further than a few strides away from you. But in the end, he could successfully circle around you without your hands supporting him. Alba and Ito came around to the part of the campus you and Kuroo were occupying.

Alba jumped up and down as Ito covered his ears, awaiting Alba’s yells to call for attention. She was tossing up a Mikasa volleyball, and Ito had a Molten under his arm.

“Let’s play two versus two since Kuroo couldn’t be bothered to come to practice today.” Alba lifted a hand up and spiked the ball in your direction, and you received the ball with ease as you dropped your hips and crouched down. Kuroo caught the ball you had dug out, spinning it in on a fingertip before just palming the ball with one hand.

Ito rolled his eyes and rolled his shoulder, “Not today, it’s almost dark out.”

Alba took her ball from Kuroo, trying to balance it on her head.

“What does our gorgeous vice captain have to say then? Let her decide, my absolute queen.” Alba blows a kiss in your direction, which you fake catch with one hand before pressing your palm to your heart and playfully, although also impishly, sighing deeply.

You glance at Kuroo’s expectant eyes, he adjusted his shoulder bag again. He was still in his dressy presentation clothes.

“Maybe next time, it’s been a long day, my legs are jello and my arms are sore.” You complain lightly, “But Alba, maybe Ito wants to play DIG 2000 on the computer with you?”

Ito smiled, DIG 2000 was a simulation game similar to the FIFA 23 sports video game. Alba nodded, bouncing the volleyball on her head a few times before turning to Ito, “Let’s go back to yours then.”

Ito copied Alba, bouncing the volleyball with his foot instead of head, and nodded, “Sounds good.”

The pair walked off, Alba talking excitedly and Ito listening intently.

Kuroo walked to stand close by you, holding your skateboard in his hand.

“If they don’t start dating, I don’t think I’ll ever believe in love.” He jokes.

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? But you love all people, you got that big heart behind all the muscle. I find it hard to believe that you need proof of romantic love to believe in love at all.” You think about Plato’s symposium which defined love as two people becoming one through a connection and Aristotle's emphasis on philia, the platonic love between friends.

Western love philosophy had always been rooted in two main branches of thought, the classical beliefs of the ancients such as Plato and then the French Skepticism that believed love was a guise for sexual fulfillment.

You noted that you’d have to thank your professor for their in depth analysis about the Love Unit your class had covered earlier in the year. Clearly, more than you realized had stuck into your brain.

Kuroo starts walking back to your dorm, you trailing after him.

“I think that love can be found in all things, but I was more so thinking about Alba and Ito you know? Like, if I see two people like them, who are clearly compatible, then it feels wrong when they don’t become more than just friends. When clearly, like, they’d be brilliant together. The way they bounce off each other for example,” Kuroo focuses his eyes straight ahead, knowing that you’re looking at him with those bright and curious eyes he’d fallen for- knowing that he’d be powerless to look away once he locked eyes with you.

Kuroo continues, “I mean, Ito takes such good care of Alba, and she doesn’t even realize that she reciprocates naturally sometimes. Like all the times she asks to tape his fingers before a game or practice, and he reluctantly lets her? Then he proceeds to fix the tape when he knows she isn’t looking. That’s love.” You can hear the sigh he lets out with his concluding statement.

You take your board back from Kuroo, playing with one of the wheels as you bump your hip into his for a moment, then you give your two cents to the discussion.

“But does that mean they need to be romantically involved? If we’re using our friends as examples, then I’d like to point out Daishou and Mika. Or even Mingzhe as an example. When we see Daishou and Mika, it is very blatant that they’re in love. They equally fawn over each other, they kiss, they feel that physical pull. When we look at Ito and Alba, they never cross that physical boundary. I think that love has a physical element to it as well as emotional. I think they might just love each other as best friends.”

Kuroo swallows, puffing out his cheeks for a second. If you believed that love needed a physical element, then why did you initiate touch with him just as frequently as he did with you? He wasn’t so egotistical to believe that you were hiding feelings from him, but it was a unique argument to think about in his head. He feels the heat in his cheeks and his ears, he’d kissed you before. Albeit, on the hand, but it had been a kiss. You’d let him cross a boundary that he wasn’t sure even existed between you two.

If the kiss had been anywhere else, would you have let him press his lips so tenderly and longingly the way he did? Would you have pushed him away? Would you’ve made a disgusted look? Would you reciprocate, kissing him back?

He’d known you for two years now, and he wasn’t sure about anything besides the fact that he wanted you to stick around him for as long as possible. For eternity if possible. For infinity, if it existed. He wanted that physical element though too, to hold and kiss you. To bite your earlobe, to scratch your back, to hold the back of your knee as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

He releases a breath, looking at the space between your eyebrows rather than your eyes.

“What about the innocent kind of love? Love shared between kids for example, they don’t necessarily cross that physical boundary you talk about. But you know when two kids love each other. It isn’t just that physical element that adds to the definition of love, it’s simply the feeling shared equally between two people. It isn’t just friendship, but it’s clearly love.”

“I don’t know. That’s a good point though. There’s definitely nuance, and I think I might have philosophized myself into a corner here.” You laugh, smiling at Kuroo.

The layers to this conversation had begun to hurt your head. Philosophy was much easier when it was sitting behind a desk, at your laptop. Philosophy was harder when it seemed like Kuroo was pressing you for answers, for your thoughts rather than a structured argumentative essay with dozens of academic pieces of evidence.

At the end of October was a selection of games to be played all Friday evening. All the intramural recreation teams were at the large gym of the university, and the Consensual Sets put on the team shirts made by Mingzhe. They were a dark grey, with the team name printed on the front, and everyone’s nicknames on the back of the jersey style top.

Kuroo just had Tetsu on the back of his. Mingzhe had put his name in a simple cursive, Alba and Ito swapped names for fun. Daishou had his full first name, and Mika put Mika-Mika as her name. As for you, you put Confucius on the back of your jersey, grateful that Kuroo had given you a nickname that actually suited your personality.

After winning the first two games, you found yourself playing against another team that had been undefeated for the entire intramural season thus far.

It was halfway through the second set, and you were exhausted. But just one more rotation before Kuroo would be back to the front with you and your killer duo block could be utilized for a perfect angle.

When Kuroo would twist his body to the side, and you’d barely skim the ball so that the spiker would be forced to send the ball straight to the libero, Mingzhe. Mingzhe had the freaky ability to reign in the ball and get it to Ito without Ito needing to move too much. Ito would then, of course, set the ball right to Daishou or Alba, depending on who would have a better shot at scoring that moment.

However, in this current rotation, you were on the end of the front row, with Ito in the center of the front. Kuroo was behind you on the back row, Mingzhe on the far back corner. Daishou was on the other side of Ito. Everyone was ready to play. You could hear Alba from the back next to Mingzhe, getting after him for not wiping the sweat off his shoes. Mika was busy refilling bottles, but still ready to swap Alba or Mingzhe if needed.

“Chance ball!” You call out, getting ready to jump up for a block. But at the same moment, Ito shifted his body to try and set the ball that Alba had received. He just happened to get a little too close. So that when he was backing up and jumping to get a touch onto the volleyball, he slammed into you.

Hitting the ground with a thud, you felt the air get knocked out of you. And once you could feel the force your back had slammed into the gym floor, the combination of painful sensations was just too much and you choked out a sound of anguish. Tears were streaming down the side of your face as you were gasping for air, but ultimately just choking on your empty lungs.

“Idiot!” Kuroo shoved Ito, knocking Ito into the net. Ito held his hands up defensively, but understood the reaction Kuroo had had. The referee called an emergency time out, and called over the nurse. Kuroo had picked you up, making you sit up. His hand was rubbing your back, telling you what to do.

Ito tried to go over to you as well, but Alba had grabbed the back of his shirt and gave a look to Ito by directing his eyes to where Kuroo was holding you. She mouthed something that you couldn’t distinguish. But then again, you couldn’t distinguish much due to the panic state you found in perpetual motion within your cells.

“Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Kuroo’s jaw was clenched, and his other hand was on your thigh. You kept trying to inhale through your mouth though, your body nervously reacting to the lack of oxygen. “Listen to me, c’mon, please, just relax okay. You’re safe, I got you. Just relax.”

The nurse arrived with a first aid kit, but once she saw how Kuroo was following standard protocol for an injury like this, she left the kit for Kuroo to use. He said a quick thanks, and the nurse went to go check on some other college student who had blood dripping from his mouth. The bloody kid was holding up a tooth and his teammates were clapping him on the back.

Kuroo tilted his head up and called out to where Mika was filling up bottles near the back of the gym, “Mika, can I get a water bottle over here?”

Daishou ran over to Mika, picking one up and running back over to Kuroo and you. He handed the bottle to you and crouched down on the other side of you.

You had taken a sip of the water, and your breathing was normal again, and the only concern was the pain in your mid to low back.

“You took quite a fall there, Confucius.” Kuroo brought his hand up from your back to caress your head, soothing you.

Daishou chuckled, sitting down, and stretching his legs out. But he scrambled to get back up when Mika asked for his help carrying all the other water bottles over to the Consensual Sets break bench.

Ito was busy sulking over on the bench, getting chewed out by Alba and Mingzhe for not listening to your call of ‘chance ball’. In that scenario, Ito was supposed to wait until after the rally went back over to the other team instead of trying to catch the ball to set it.

Ito was just awaiting when the true test of his spirit would be put through the wringer. That of course would be the eventual moment when he was on the receiving end of Kuroo’s fury.

Everyone on the team knew, if you were at the center of an issue, Kuroo would ultimately be there resolving it. Usually you never get too injured, it was just supposed to be a casual intramural team, but the seven members of Consensual Sets had grown into a tightly knit friend group who really wanted to chase down the championship at The University of Tokyo.

That did put some more strain on the level of ability everyone had, and the intensity of which Ito had been aiming to score just another point. But it also reminded everyone, you getting hurt, that this was a casual team. There was nothing to be gained except for a fun time and some good stories to tell.

Kuroo was glad that you hadn’t landed too badly, he’d be much more angry at Ito if you would’ve landed on your head or your bad knee that hadn’t healed up all the way from the sprain you got a few weeks ago. Now, Kuroo tried to focus on keeping his heart rate down so you wouldn’t be able to hear it pounding in his chest.

Completely aware of his own protectiveness for you, Kuroo had been the first one to react to the collision between you and Ito. He’d always been the first one to make sure you were okay. And he wanted to keep it that way.

You decide that you want to get back into the game, leveraging your hand against Kuroo’s shoulder, “We still have to finish the set, we’re ahead by three. Just five more points and we win.” You tried to stand up, only to get dizzy and stumble back. Kuroo caught you again, bringing you back to the ground to sit in between his legs so he could hug you from behind.

“Yeah, no. We’re gonna have to cancel this match for a different day.” He rubs his thumb over your elbow, trying to ease the bruise that was forming there.

You spin your head around to face Kuroo. He can feel the way his Adam’s apple bobs at your face being so close to his.

“Yeah, no, trade Mika in for me. Let’s finish the game.” You pouted a little, and Kuroo could only roll his eyes in response. He never could say no to you indefinitely. He did make you finish the water bottle before he would let the game resume with Mika’s substitution in your place.

And the game does get finished, a sequential five points with Kuroo getting a block kill for the winning point. He had made you sit on the bench, wrapped in his blue Nike windbreaker.

Everyone, except for Daishou and Mika who rode to the gym on her motorcycle, piled into Kuroo’s Toyota Sienna minivan. You sat in the passenger’s seat, as usual, and Ito was relegated to the very back of the car with Alba sprawled out trying to take a nap. Mingzhe enjoys the silence of the middle row all to himself, adjusting the temperature to be freezing. You rest your head on the window, looking outside at the busy streets.

“Who’s getting dropped off first?” Kuroo hands you the collection of semi-final medals, an award for making it to the top four teams. The finals would be in three weeks, and you fully intended to take the championship trophy home.

“I live the furthest away, so you can work your way towards your apartment if you drop me off first.” You say, putting the medals into your duffel bag. You’d pass them out at team practice in a few days.

Alba sits up, and Ito’s relieved to have her legs off of his thighs.

“I have to work early, like super early tomorrow morning. Drop me off first please.” Alba announces, poking her head next to Mingzhe’s seat so that she can have Kuroo hear her better.

You groan, “Alba you live the furthest from me, Tetsurou would have to go back and forth to drop me off second.”

Ito raises his hand, inserting himself into the discussion, “Yeah, but I live closer to Alba, and so does Mingzhe. Kuroo can just go to the East Campus first, and then drop you off last.”

Kuroo grins, “Sounds like we have a winning plan. Alba, Ito, Mingzhe, and then you, Confucius.”

The engine starts, and Kuroo double checks the GPS before merging onto the main street highway.

“I still think it’s illogical to go past your house to drop everyone off, then go past your house again to drop me off.”

“Just stay the night at mine then?” Kuroo says, keeping his eyes on the road fully, not even considering glancing in your direction for worry of getting seen right through by your perceptive instincts.

Alba bites down on her lips, squeezing Ito’s arm in anticipation for what will unfold. Ito tries to push her off, but she just holds on tighter.

Mingzhe is too busy swiping through his Tinder to pay attention, but he’s passively listening in on what you could possibly say in response. Mingzhe needed to find a date for the Chinese cultural exchange event the school would be having, and you had to hear about how all his potential dates were just not up to his par. The exchange event would be a few days before the Intramural Finals.

You think for a moment, it would save Kuroo a fifteen minute drive in the bad traffic. And anything to avoid the traffic of an evening rush would be best, especially since Kuroo was bad at estimating when he’d need to buy gas again. If you stayed at his place, then you would have a ride to your early morning Saturday class without having to ride the bus onto campus. In addition, you’d get free breakfast since you knew Kuroo liked to make big meals in the morning.

“I’ll get a ride into school yeah?”

“Yeah. I have a class at the same time you do tomorrow.” He lied. His earliest class would be two hours after your class.

“Then I guess so. You got an extra toothbrush?”

“Dozens.”

Kuroo’s apartment smelt like him. But in an unfiltered, undiluted way. You inspected some photos that he had around, but you were more interested in the calendar he had posted on his fridge.

He had everyone’s birthdays written down on a notes section of the entire year overview calendar. Your birthday was circled multiple times, and the entire week before and during your birthday had been highlighted bright yellow. He had already started brainstorming ideas about what to get you, and had a few sticky notes on the fridge listing things.

You noted some books you had mentioned, a website address of what you identified as a custom volleyball brand with a drawing of a volleyball Kuroo had done, a bunch of question marks around his note of matching hoodies, and then a heart around the words ‘ring’ and ‘house key’.

Kuroo saw the way you honed into his fridge and tried to pull you away, “You’re spoiling your surprises.”

You folded your arms, “I don’t like surprises.”

“Fine then, you’re spoiling my surprises. I get you things, and my reward for doing so is seeing your reactions.”

You waved a hand, dismissing him. He had told you that the toothbrushes were under his sink.

While you were in the bathroom, brushing teeth and then taking a shower, Kuroo quickly cleaned areas of his apartment that you might meander into. Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness, he tried to remember how to set up his pullout couch.

Changing into your backup sweatpants and the loaned Nike sweatshirt had given you in tandem with his windbreaker, you hugged yourself to embrace the soft fleece that was coating your skin.

Once you saw the pullout couch, with a pile of folded blankets on top of a grey pillow, you started to make the bed. Unfurling the blankets and slightly fluffing the pillow. Before crawling under the blankets, you decided to scroll on your phone for a minute, setting alarms for the morning and responding to some texts from your friends and teammates about today.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo had changed into shorts and an oversized shirt that he tucked slightly into the waistband of his shorts.

“Texting?” You answer.

“No, what are you doing sitting on the couch?” Kuroo was holding a pillow from his bedroom, the one he used to press against the side of his head. (Also the one that had caused his incessant case of bedhead spiky hair.)

You uncross your legs, dangling them over the edge of the couch, “I’m sleeping on the pullout couch?”

Kuroo tosses his pillow onto the couch, crawling under the blankets you had set up. When he pulled the blankets over his shoulder, you were tugged back a little. In response, you just stood up and went around to kneel in front of Kuroo, attempting to make eye contact.

“Where do I sleep?”

He reaches his arm out and pats the space next to him.

“No.”

He sighs, rolling onto his back as he brings his hands behind his head. The obvious flex he does in his biceps from the way his shirt sleeve rolls down does not go unnoticed by you.

“Then I guess you’re sleeping in my bed then, first door on the right. Goodnight.” He immediately covered his head with his two pillows.

You tried to pull one of them away from Kuroo, but his grip was stronger than your slight strain to jerk the pillow out of his grasp.

“You win this time. But next time, I will take my rightful spot on the pullout couch.”

Kuroo mimics you, imitating a high tone, his voice is muffled by his pillow barriers around his face. You stick your tongue out at him even though he can’t see it.

At least his bed was comfortable, and cold. Cotton sheets that definitely had to be a higher thread count than your own, and he left you with only one pillow. He had a few plushies from all the times the pair of you went to a big box store to buy groceries, and instead of buying bananas or a fresh watermelon, he’d spend his money on collecting an array of large stuffed animals.

You had asked him once about why he bought them. He just said because they were cool to have around his place. In reality though, you had gone through his phone once, when he was going through yours for fun trying to find dirt or juicy gossip, and you found out the truth about his assortment of plushies. You went to his notes app and only found a list of things he wanted to buy for his future kids, and a list of maybe fifteen stuffed animals was at the top. He’d already crossed off around ten of them, so he needed only five more to complete the collection he wanted to curate.

It was a cute sentiment that he had, thinking about his future children so soon. Which is why for his upcoming birthday, in a few weeks, the same day as the final for the intramural championship, you had three stuffed animals in a bag in your closet to give to him to celebrate the eventual win.

Kuroo looked through his phone, spending some time watching volleyball videos before going to sleep. He was also biding his time, wanting to check in on you before he fully went to sleep. He just wanted to make sure you were sleeping well before he let himself sleep. His phone beeped, once and then twice.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: got some good photos of you and our dear vice captain, say thanks to me, mika 💖, and mingzhe for actually CAPTURING the way you are so sickly deadly embarrassingly openly precisely adoringly obsessively entirely fervently passionately feverishly restlessly frantically FREAKING HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE with her

TO SUGURU: 🖕

TO SUGURU: she looks good in the photos

FROM SUGURU: i feel ill thinking about what your plan with these photos is now 😟

TO SUGURU: exposing your rough drafts for proposing to mika in the gc RIGHT NOW

FROM SUGURU: I’LL MIC DROP THE DRUNK VIDEO OF U WHINING ABOUT NEEDING OUR VICE CAPTAIN TO KISS U AND HOLD YOU- I’LL DO IT DON’T TEST ME MF

TO SUGURU: hand hovering over the collection of mika stalker photos you have that you’ve sent to me

FROM SUGURU: literally this close to posting on my instagram the HUNDREDS of text messages you’ve sent me about her, including the ones from the day Consensual Sets spent at the beach, AND the ones from the week after she broke up with her loser ex, AND the ones from that time you almost kissed her, and then the other time you also almost kissed her like the love sick loser you are

TO SUGURU: i’ll kill you.

FROM SUGURU: i’d kill you first + here’s more photos mika my darling angel, wants me to send to you that i took on my phone. you better be grateful to me for forever you ass. I’m single handedly providing all the pictures for a wedding video slideshow.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 5 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: date her asap. mika wants double dates and i’m tired of asking mingzhe to find strangers online to satiate mika’s yearning for the double date extravaganzas she wants. Ok goodnight pookie bear tetsu i hate your guts 🔪🫰🤬💯

Kuroo lets his falling phone hit him in the face as he huffs. He didn’t sleep well that night. The same iteration of her getting slammed into and crashing onto the ground keeps replaying over and over again. Kuroo wakes up in a cold sweat two different times that night.

“Thanks for the ride onto campus,” You click your seatbelt into your seat, as Kuroo taps the steering wheel a few times.

“No problem, I have class too, remember.”

“Ahh, yes, you and your fancy finance and sports marketing double major.” You giggle, holding up your pointer finger into the air in an ‘actually…’ pose that you know Kuroo hated.

He puts his hand behind your seat, hand coming near the back of your head behind the head of the chair, to reverse out of the parking lot.

“Don’t forget my minor in chemistry.”

“So weird. You’re going into sports promotion and business, but you have a science minor?” You shake your head in disbelief.

It never shocked you at just how smart Kuroo could be sometimes. When he did or said things that made you wonder if you were actually learning anything at university. Or when he could treat you to an entertaining story about his lab classes, those were the memories you’d take with you into the future. Stories Kuroo shared about his college experience, which often contrasted with your own experiences.

All through the differences though, the pair of you had become so close.

The way your friendship had increasingly deepened, and at such an unprecedented rate for you, had you feeling like he’d been doing much more for you as of late. You hoped you hadn’t been imposing on him since you stayed over at his apartment. Even though he had been the one to suggest it, you felt guilty at accepting the offer. You felt guilt that you’d been possibly taking advantage of him.

He’d been the most caring, and considerate friend you’d ever had. The closeness of you two began to feel like each time he did something, you’d need to supplement it with your own acts of kindness. Drowning in friendship wasn’t an expected result of joining a intramural volleyball team.

Kuroo shrugs a little, speeding up a little more, “I think it makes me stand out. Plus, who doesn’t love chemistry? It’s just like math with better concepts.”

You play with the hoodie strings of a borrowed top from Kuroo.

He notices your silence, but doesn’t comment on it, just continuing the drive to your building. He let you out near the entrance. The tall Humanities building had walls made of glass windows, letting people look in on lectures and socratic seminars. The concrete details blended with the fragile glass details in a dichotomous way that just worked so well.

When you shut the door to the car, Kuroo rolls down the window, calling out to you before you enter the building. Your roommate stood on the steps, holding your backpack that you’d asked her to bring. She lazily scrolled through her phone, waiting for you to talk to her and then you could go to class with her. She’d never been much of a morning person.

You turn around and rest your arms in the empty space left by the window being rolled down. Tilting your head, you waited for Kuroo to say what he wanted to say.

“You know you’re mentos right?”

The confusion is blatant on your face. You clarify, “I’m mentos? I thought I was me?”

Kuroo smirks, “You’re mentos and I’m coke-a-cola.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your roommate called out to you, letting you know that class would start soon and she wanted to get a good spot in the lecture hall. You waved to her, signaling you’d only be a few more seconds.

“You’re my chemical reaction.”

You laugh, “You make no sense sometimes I swear, but okay. I’ll be mentos and you can be coke-a-cola.”

Kuroo watched as you bounded up to your friend, sliding your backpack on. Your roommate asked about the top you were wearing by tugging on the waistband of the deep red hoodie. Kuroo knows he’s being talked about, because you jut a thumb in his direction and your roommate turns around to look at his car and she nods with understanding.

Kuroo doesn’t see your roommate wiggle her eyebrows, or how she makes a kissing face at you teasingly. He’s too busy driving to the library to find a spot to nap while he waits two hours for his own class to start.

The final two games would be critical. On November 17th, that Saturday, the gym for intramural volleyball would declare the winner. Out of 32 teams, and after five months of training, games, and unique coaching opportunities, there could only be one winner. Consensual Sets would go against EZ Pass, and Ice Ice Blockers would oppose Monster Spikes. You had found it funny how the final four all had different volleyball skills as their team name, setting, spiking, passing, and blocking.

But before the Intramural Finals, Mingzhe still needed to attend the Chinese cultural exchange event on Wednesday.

On that Monday, Mingzhe was complaining to you during team practice.

“Listen, I still haven’t found someone to be my plus one.” Mingzhe paced a little in front of you, as you wiped off a volleyball. You wanted the ball to be cleaned properly before the team would start playing with it.

“Just ask Daishou or Ito, it’s your pick. Either way, you’d have a great time.” You pull out your elbow grease to get a particularly nasty scuff out of the ball.

“It needs to be a woman. It’s a date type of event.” Mingzhe suddenly turned on his heel, facing you straight on. You brought your head to the side, eyeing Mingzhe’s rapid shift in mood. “You. You should be my plus one.”

You gape, loosening your hold on the ball that Mingzhe just ends up taking from you.

“It’s perfect! You’re interesting, we have a good friendship, fake dating for this event would be easy-peasy.” Mingzhe smiles, looking entirely too self-satisfied.

“Fake-dating?” Sourly, you try to take the ball away from Mingzhe, who just brings it closer to his chest.

Kuroo comes around to the pair of you, putting a hand on Mingzhe’s shoulder. “What’s happening? We need this ball to do the drills, it should be good by now yeah?”

Mingzhe hands the ball to Kuroo, “I was just finalizing plans for our date on Wednesday.”

Kuroo almost drops the volleyball that was placed into his hands. But he grasps onto it, trying to appear composed and chill. You tug on your knee pads, making sure they’re secure. In doing so, your shorts ride up a little and more of your thigh is exposed. Kuroo again almost drops the ball at how quickly his eyes flit to the exhibited skin of your legs.

“Date?” Kuroo wonders if the word sounds as dumb as he felt saying it.

You raised your shoulders, “Yeah.”

Mingzhe claps his hands, “Our fourth date, remember?”

Mingzhe was already trying to get into the acting persona of a fake relationship and you were not amused, shoving his shoulder roughly as you walked over to Alba. Kuroo had interpreted the shove as playful, as romantic, as being adjacent to love.

Kuroo looked between Mingzhe and you. Then he looked at Daishou desperately asking for help with his glance but Daishou was too busy helping Mika with her knee pads again. Kuroo then went back to looking at the space you had occupied.

His heart lurched, and just like a bad sickness, he couldn’t help but continue his downward spiral.

“When did you guys start dating?” He folds his arms in front of him, shuffling his feet a little.

“A few weeks ago. Just trying it out, you know.” Mingzhe said, “She’ll be going with me to the exchange event, it’ll be fun to see her dress up formally for once.”

Mingzhe, unaware of Kuroo’s radiating tension, goes over to where Ito had called him.

Kuroo, dumbstruck and frustrated, called out a change of plans, “We’re doing a three versus three.”

You stood on the other side of the net, blocking spikes from Daishou. Each time Kuroo served, he went straight for Mingzhe’s throat- putting more force than he typically did. Alba was drenched in sweat by the end of the single match. Ito had his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are we done yet Tetsu?” Ito asked, and Alba made her way under the net, patting Ito on the back.

Mingzhe had fallen to the ground and was laying on his back, sweat dripping from his black hair to the gym floor. You had half a mind to join Mingzhe. But Kuroo still looked fired up.

“Yes, we’re done for today, Ito. Good practice everyone!” You called out, and Mika gladly started packing up the shared bag she had with Daishou. Kuroo looked at you with pursed lips.

Kuroo and you stayed behind to take down the volleyball net, and as he began folding the white ropes, you began to speak, “Our three versus three is supposed to have more balance than that. You weighed the sides wrong. Alba never has to spike that much, she needed to practice her receives today. You just kept serving straight to Mingzhe, not to mention you had Suguru aim solely for Mingzhe too. He’s going to be exhausted tonight.”

“Worried about your boyfriend? He’s supposed to be essentially a professional anyway. Mingzhe is fine.” Kuroo kept folding the net, however, you could see his knuckles were white and each time he folded the stringy-material he left a mark on his hand from the unneeded strain he was putting

“Mingzhe is a friend. We aren’t dating, Testsurou.” You take down the side rods, detaching the sections so you could carry them easier.

“Oh really? Four dates in a row sounds pretty serious.” He gnaws at the words he sends your way. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you two were going to start acting like Suguru and Mika soon.”

You put the rods away, not saying anything to Kuroo’s comment.

He pushes further, “How long have you liked him?”

“It isn’t like that.” You face Kuroo, hands on your hips, “Mingzhe was joking about it being our fourth date. Calm down. I don’t know why you’re so pressed over this.” You say.

“You two don’t go well together.” Kuroo claims, “He’s not right for you. He’s going back home at the end of the year anyway.”

You take the folded net from Kuroo, but he tugs it away from you, pulling you closer to him.

You’re both gripping the net, standing barely a foot apart. Kuroo is looking at you, a twitch in the vein of his neck tells you he’s upset without him having to say anything.

“It’s not even a date, Tetsurou. I’m his plus one. He just needed a girl to go with him.” You explain, trying to get the net away from Kuroo, but his hold is stronger than yours.

“It isn’t a date?”

“Not in my book. It’s not a romantic date. We’re going as friends. Why, just why does it matter so much to you?”

He lets go of the net, and grabs a hold of your arms instead. He opens his mouth a few times, only to close his mouth soon after. Fully taking the net away from you, Kuroo puts it into the storage room.

You sigh with exasperation, going to grab your skateboard.

“Let me drive you, it’s dark out.” Kuroo swings his keys on his pointer finger.

You turn around, tilting your head down slightly to glare at him, “Are you going to throw another fit?”

“Geez, someone’s mad.”

Your jaw drops, then you shake your head with a snicker dying out on your lips.

“You can be so hot and cold sometimes Tetsurou. Did you know that?”

Kuroo holds the gym door open for you to exit. He locks it up once he steps out as well.

“That’s why I’m the coke-a-cola, and you’re the mentos.”

“I really need you to explain your analogy to me.”

The Chinese Cultural Exchange Event at the ballroom of The University of Tokyo really was a stunning celebration. Lanterns were hanging from the second floor open balconies, and the marble pillars were covered in a mixture of bamboo and woven leaves to showcase the Horticulture Department’s skills of arranging foliage. There were tables filled with classic Chinese dishes, along with unique Chinese-Japanese dishes from the diaspora history of China to Japan.

You were surprised to see just how many exchange students the university had from China, it seemed like there had to have been at least a hundred or more Chinese exchange students, including Mingzhe.

Mingzhe has asked that you wear red and black to match with him. You thought it was funny that so many men in your life asked you to wear the red/black combination so frequently. Your dress was formal of course, but you had opted for a loose silky maroon dress that had black lace detailing.

The long sleeves of the dress were a sheer black, so that air could filter to your arms as well. Even though you never opted for a sweetheart neckline most of the time, the lady at the store had said you’d look great with this specific dress. So you had bought it and called it a day.

Mingzhe, as you were coming to realize, must have been rich because there was no way his tailored suit would’ve cost any less than one million yen. Mingzhe clearly had only worn red leather shoes to match slightly with you, because otherwise he was in an all black outfit.

You put on a forceful smile as Mingzhe puts his hand on the small of your back and introduces you in Mandarin to one of his friends. Once the conversation died down, you leaned over to Mingzhe with gritted teeth, “I’m actually going to murder you. You didn’t tell me that the Chinese exchange student association at our school was filled with rich kids.”

An older lady, presumably an exchange coordinator, stops to compliment your dress, in Mandarin. You fumble over the words of thanks that Mingzhe had taught you a few minutes ago. When Mingzhe laughs into his cup of water, you elbow him in the side discreetly.

“Just what are you telling people about me?” You demand. Mingzhe hands you a glass of water from the plate a dressed up server was walking around with.

“Girlfriend, three months.”

Your eyes widen, and Mingzhe chuckles.

“Close friend who I play volleyball with, who graciously accepted my invitation to join me tonight.”

Moving your head up and down appreciatively, you sip on your water, “That’s more like it.”

Scanning around, you tried to see if you knew anyone. Which was a long shot, but-

“Kenma? Is that you?”

The dip dyed blonde makes eye contact with you and raises a hand. Kenma makes his way over to you, eyeing the way Mingzhe had his arm around your waist with suspicion.

“It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Kenma comments, shaking hands with you and Mingzhe.

“What are you doing here?”

Kenma smiles, pointing to an enamel pin on his suit jacket, “Got a sponsorship from a Chinese company. Said Chinese company has a college aged daughter, and thus, here I am as a plus one as a favor to my sponsor.”

You nod, trying to make an estimation for just how much net worth Kenma had. Mingzhe started talking to Kenma about what games he’d seen Kenma play, because apparently Kenma’s streams were popular on a Chinese video server called billibilli. You were glad that your parents limited your screen time as a child, otherwise you’d be just as chaotically involved in the conversation Kenma and Mingzhe were having about a new game that was releasing soon.

The rest of the night was spent listening to more of Mingzhe’s Mandarin speaking skills, as you swished around in your dress waiting for the time to go.

Mingzhe threw back a shot, well, a quick drink from a flask that a student had snuck in, “Let’s dance!”

You tried to pull back, but Mingzhe grabbed you by the hands and pulled you into his chest. A smile that you’d never seen on his face appeared, and instead of harmonious traditional Chinese pop music, someone hijacked the music- rap music you were sure was not school approved started blasting.

The administration looked furious, but Mingzhe just kept giving you that face splitting smile. He mouthed his words again, and the only response you could give was moving his hands from your back to your waist.

The club style dancing eventually devolved into a mosh pit that was quickly disassembled by the administration due to the cutting of music. The students groaned, but the administration said that the event was over and that everyone needed to get back to their housing.

Mingzhe dropped you off at your dorm, running a hand through his sweaty black hair.

“Had fun?” He asked.

“Yes. It was very fun.”

Instead of just waving, Mingzhe opened his arms up, and you gave into the offering of a hug.

His hugs were different from Kuroo’s hugs. For one, Mingzhe was shorter than Kuroo, so you could feel more of his face than just solely his chest or neck. For another, Mingzhe didn’t smell like Kuroo. Mingzhe was mintier, like spearmint and peppermint- it burned your nose a tinge. Mingzhe was also lankier, arms not quite packing as much heft to them like Kuroo’s did.

“Don’t look now, but I think someone is spying on us.” He whispered into your ear, and you grabbed onto his shoulders tighter. The bounce of his body as he laughed shook you, and you slapped his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t trust me when I say things like that.”

“If people knew even a fraction of what I know about you, you’d be immediately canceled.”

“Good thing no one knows me like you.” Mingzhe swiped at your cheek with two knuckles, a gentle caress. “You know I have feelings for you right?”

You nod affirmatively.

“But I’m also guessing, and tell me if I’m wrong, but there’s a different black haired boy on our volleyball team that holds the key to your heart?” Mingzhe murmured. You could practically hear the deep ache in his soul.

You nod again.

“Well, I can’t win them all. Here’s to being good friends.” Mingzhe grabbed your hand and shook it a few times, “When we win on Saturday, make sure to at least give me a little peck on the cheek.” He brazenly states.

“No promises.”

Mingzhe throws his head back, dimples coming out to show off.

“Thanks for a great night Mingzhe, I’ll see you on Saturday.” You pat him on the cheek, separating the pair of you. Your heels were killing you, and all you really wanted to wear was the fleece hoodie Kuroo gave you that you hadn’t returned for weeks now.

He salutes, walking backwards for a moment. Then he calls out with mirth laced into his words, “I always get cock blocked by the middle blockers I swear to the gods.”

And you thought, Mingzhe was absolutely correct.

TO TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO TETSUROU: she seemed to have fun tonight at the little event thing

Kenma had paused his late night stream, sending photos of you and Mingzhe dancing- leaving absolutely no space for Kuroo’s mental sanity. Kenma knew that sending the photos could possibly instigate something that he didn’t want unfolding.

FROM TETSUROU: i don’t care.

TO TETSUROU: hmm yeah sure

FROM TETSUROU: i dont care- i just want her to be happy, genuinely happy. like so happy she literally feels sore in the mouth from smiling so much

TO TETSUROU: there it is

TO TETSUROU: look, here’s the situation. she isn’t into mr. libero chinese model guy- she likes you.

FROM TETSUROU: i wish

Kenma felt his eye twitch at Kuroo’s message. How long did Kuroo have to keep the back and forth before Kenma just wrote out a confession for his friend and mailed it to you?

TO TETSUROU: she likes you. the only logical conclusion is that you both are giant pussies who are so afraid to break the friendship between yall that you’ll end up missing each other in the process. like those stupid freaking robots on mars, the ones that battery died before they could share data.

TO TETSUROU: regardless, she’s hot, you’re hot, get together and have a bunch of weirdo genius kids or whatever it is you want the point is that you need to say something before its too late

TO TETSUROU: stop ignoring my messages.

TO TETSUROU: tell her on saturday. after you win the finals and get those gaudy trophies- just like pull a tetsurou move and pull her into you and kiss her so good she forgets her name.

FROM TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak on the down low

TO TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak out in the open but a sweetheart teddy bear on the down low. we could go for hours, but the main thing here is: tell her, kiss her, live happily ever after

FROM TETSUROU: i feel sick

TO TETSUROU: you care too much. and you know what? SHE LOVES THAT ABOUT YOU- im tired of telling u what to do. Tell her, dont tell her, grow old without ever experiencing the touch of your woman, do what you want. but honestly, if i have to witness one more longing gaze ill vomit so for my sake, your best friend, tell her and be happy.

Kuroo powered off his phone.

Then he immediately turned it back on to look at the photos Kenma had sent him. He kicked off his blankets with his stewing offended reaction to the photos. Plugging his phone in, Kuroo got a glass of water from his kitchen.

The moon wasn’t out, or at least it wasn’t visible. Storm clouds thundered, lighting struck the ground in bolts of blue and grey. At least the weather understood him. He could always trust the universe to send him a message with what the weather was. Sunny days would be happy, rainy days would be brilliant, and stormy nights would reflect the inner turmoil of his spirit.

He scratched an itch right above his knee, leaving white marks from how his nails drug against his skin. The clock told him that it was Thursday at two in the morning. He counted on his fingers. The end of the finals game would be around eight in the evening on Saturday.

He had sixty-six hours to decide if he would give his heart away. Sixty-six hours to conjure up a magic spell to make him anyone besides himself as he uttered the words, “I love you.”

Sixty-four hours goes by much quicker than Kuroo would expect.

“Okay, listen up everyone.” Consensual Sets was huddled up, you were giving your final speech of this year. Your team had won against EZ Pass, and now the final match would be against Monster Spikes.

You were aware of how tired everyone was. In the third set against EZ Pass, Alba twisted her ankle, leaving the team to substitute her out for Mika. Resulting in an extremely close third set, but in the end, you were able to do a block kill and Daishou was able to get a good spike in to secure the win in Consensual Sets favor.

Alba sat on the bench, with a bag of ice on her ankle. Although she’d never say it, she was angry. Her face was entirely blank, devoid of any emotion. No comments or out of the blue thoughts rambled out of her- and you knew that Alba was fermenting in her own self pity.

Ito was sitting next to Alba, as the rest of the team stood around with arms around shoulders. You could feel the sweat from everyone’s bodies in the team circle.

“Monster Spikes as a whole lacks the ability to connect. Their passes are sloppy compared to ours. Ito, your setting skills outweigh that other setter. Kuroo, your blocks are always on point. Alba, Daishou, Mika, you're some of the best spikers I’ve seen. Not to mention Mingzhe being our solid foundation as libero, nothing gets past you.” Your speech wasn’t organized, it wasn’t even meant to be motivational.

But you continued, “These past six months, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. So many team practices, so many late night drives, so many junk food purchases.” You look down to the gym floor, “I was so worried when I started college that I wouldn’t find my people. But look at me now, I have the best friends in the world and we’re playing in a championship. We don’t need to be a school sponsored team, just being on a intramural team is enough to make me glad.”

You don't see the way that Alba wipes at her eyes. You miss the way that Mingzhe and Ito share a big smile at each other. Mika rubs your back, urging you to continue. Daishou and Kuroo kick each other in the shins, an amicable gesture between rivals turned competitive friends.

“So, you know what, let’s go out and win this. Connect every receive, every toss, every spike. We are the blood that flows through, let’s make it easy for each other to show off our skills.” You stick your hand into the center of the team. Everyone stacks their hand on top of yours.

Kuroo had told you that you should be the one to give the final speech, you should be the one to speak before the final game with this team. His selfish desire to hear you tie up the loose ends of a season of volleyball, knowing how he’d fumble the speech due to his inability to accept that this team would never be the same after their last game.

But also, Kuroo knew that just hearing you talk would soothe his nerves before this game. Hearing you express your thoughts and emotions about your team, the team he shared with you, would do wonders for his confidence in the game.

After listening to so many of Kuroo’s pre-game speeches, you had an idea of what would be good to say. In the end though, this speech was uniquely yours. A testament to the power of connection.

Kuroo locks eyes with you. You nudge your head in the direction of everyone’s hands, he shakes his head, mouthing that this call was all yours. You mouth a thank-you to Kuroo.

Looking around at your friends, you give the last cheer of the year, “3, 2, 1, let’s play!”

Kuroo wins the coin toss, and Mika serves first.

She starts with a jump float that undeniably starts the team off on the best footing possible. A service ace right off the bat, and Daishou can’t help but pump his fists and give a yell of excitement. He loved to see his fiancé play a game that had become the center of his universe, more accurately though the center of Daishou’s universe was a mixture of volleyball and Mika.

The game picks up with an indomitable force, the speed and increasing frequency of you having to jump up to block or to give a feint hit is more than you’re used to. Kuroo’s breathing is heavier, and between points scored, he keeps his shoulders low. Ito keeps shaking out his hands, then rolling his dominant shoulder. The only one who still looks moderately normal is Mingzhe, who’s sporting a dimple on only one side of his face.

After set one, Consensual Sets is ahead 1-0.

Four more to go.

1-1.

2-1.

2-2.

Alba is sitting on the edge of the bench, eyebrows furrowed, her hands grip the plastic seat. Each time Daishou spikes, Alba purses her lips.

During a time out, you sit next to Alba.

“Thank you.” It’s a quiet moment shared between you and Alba, everyone else getting some water for a moment. You express your gratitude plainly, because that’s all that's needed to get the sentiment across. You appreciated her, and she knew it too.

Alba’s bottom lip quivers, “I just wanted to play one more game with everyone. With Mingzhe behind me, with Ito sending me those smooth tosses, with you and Kuroo as my wall of defense. With Daishou shouting at me telling me to fix my form. With Mika telling me to ignore Daishou. One more game with everyone.”

You pat her knee.

“Alba, we couldn’t have gotten here without you.” Smiling, you hold her hand, “Remember, this is all for fun. And as long as you’re having fun- then we’re winning. You’re on the court just as much as I’m on the court, even if it might not seem like it.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, “You suck- making me cry like this. I'm such a baby, screw you.”

Ito laughs once he hears Alba’s comment, full body laughing. It's a new sound for everyone on the team, to hear the joyous childlike giggles erupting from the most stone-faced member of Consensual Sets. Following suit, everyone else joins in, laughing. Mingzhe even snorts.

The opposing team raises their eyebrows at you all, but in the end, it's just a game of volleyball. It's a game being played by a group of friends who like spending time together. You weren’t sure that friends was the right defining terminology anymore. There had to be a word for what everyone shared, because it was deeper, more meaningful, richer than just being ‘friends’.

Kuroo watches as Alba punches you in the arm, and the grin you give in response stuns him. You stand up from the bench to escape Alba’s gentle wrath. You bump into Kuroo, turning around and giving him that smile that made him feel like himself.

He just can’t help the way he grabs your face and slots his lips to yours.

To his surprise, you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him in closer. He rubs his thumbs on your cheekbones, letting his cold nose bump into yours. You tilt your head so you can breathe through your nose a little better. He moves from your lips to the side of your mouth, rapidly placing gentle pecks there before doing the same all over your face.

Wrinkling your nose, you make a noise of complaint at being gross and sweaty.

When you pull away, Kuroo’s face follows yours, trailing closely. He reminds you of a cat trying to nudge their way under your hand. He connects to your lips again, humming against the plush of your skin. Thinking back to his failed confession at the train station, he nips at your lips before kissing them lightly. It’s hard to kiss when he’s smiling this much.

“As much as I love a free show, we have a game to win.” Mingzhe tugs on the back collar of Kuroo’s shirt, ripping him from you. Kuroo wriggles out of Mingzhe’s hold, trying to attach himself to you again, but gets shaken out of his one track mind, his desire to just keep kissing you, when the referee blows his whistle.

Serve. Receive. Set. Spike. Block.

Block. Receive. Set. Spike.

Receive. Set. Spike.

Block. Spike.

Spike.

3-2.

“LET’S GO!” Ito screams, whipping his head around to look at Alba. She waves a little from her spot on the bench. Ito thinks to himself, if Kuroo can confess, then surely he can too.

Although, Ito’s kiss is much less tame than Kuroo’s. Ito’s kneeling on the bench, arms wrapped around Alba’s torso as she’s practically hanging off of the bench, only supported by Ito’s hold.

Mingzhe throws his hands up in the air when Daishou and Mika kiss as well.

“Can nobody just appreciate the win? What's with all the kissing?” Mingzhe speaks into a void, rubbing his forehead with exasperation.

“This is appreciating the win.” Kuroo wraps an arm around your waist, pinching your side. The pinch makes your body move closer into him.

“Oh yeah, suddenly everyone on our team is in love and I’m here, just the best libero in a loveless existence. At least I’ll always have volleyball.” Mingzhe jokingly states, hugging the volleyball to his chest.

Alba holds up a marker, “I can draw a kissable face on the ball if you want Mingzhe?”

Ito laughs loudly again, resting his chin on Alba’s shoulder.

Mika, in her wisdom, tells everyone to line up for a group photo before awards are handed out.

Three sequential clicks of Mika’s phone, and one of your opponents double checked that all the shots they took were good. Handing the phone off, the tall girl who had kindly taken the photos of your team shook your hand.

“You’re one of the best blockers I’ve seen on an intramural team, how’d you get so good?” She asked.

You shrugged, but Kuroo spoke up, “I taught her everything that she knows. But also, my girlfriend is a quick learner too, an easy study if you will.”

The girl nods, bowing curtly before going over to her own team.

You grab the front of Kuroo’s shirt, pulling his face down to yours.

“My boyfriend really is a handful. What should I do about that?”

Kuroo smirks, grabbing a hold of the front of your shirt as well.

“Definitely kiss him. That’s the best solution.” He nods his head.

“One question first,” You comment, smoothing out his shirt where you had twisted the fabric, “Explain the mentos and coke thing.”

Kuroo slips a hand under your shirt, resting on your bare hip, “You put mentos in a bottle of coke then, bam. Explosion. One of the coolest chemical reactions I know of.”

“Wanna try that out?”

“Yes, please.”

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: my epic teammates, my best friends, my family.

FROM SUGURU: i’m going to be sick why are you so sentimental

FROM ITO: alba and i are on our way don't start without us!

FROM MINGZHE: ur lucky i got a flight in time for this

FROM ALBA: i bought you a photobook for all our pictures! and i got tetsu some mentos like he asked

FROM MIKA: sugu and i will be there soon, needed to get gas for my bike

FROM SUGURU: what's the point of having an engagement party if we can't even play volleyball

FROM TETSUROU: suguru i’ll make you chopped liver. i don't know who told you we wouldn't have a volleyball at the party ??

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: make sure to add songs to my playlist for tonight! thanks for getting mentos alba! Make sure to sign your names into the guestbook when you get here

FROM TETSUROU: me too?

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: tetsurou what am i going to do with you for the rest of our lives 🥲

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: consensual sets reunion + their engaged captain and vice captain (look at how cute my ring is 😭 thank you tetsurou 💖) (also peep the coke and mentos explosion behind us in that last photo!!!!!!)

FROM TETSUROU: wedding in 5 months be back soon everyone! it was nice seeing everyone again. love you all ! 🙏🏐💍

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