#if not though THANK U STILL FOR THE KIND WORDS!!!!

[luvsupa]

tags: cowboy!geto x fem!reader, private relationship (bc father doesn’t approve), fluff(ish), angst, sad ending, reader is daughter of a land owner!! + heavily inspired by this art 🙂‍↕️

a/n:UMM THANK U GUYS SM FOR 1.3K FOLLOWERS WHAATTTTT, MWAAAA

the sun blazes down, crickets singing their lazy tune, but your world feels like it’s crashing. your fingers nervously graze the folded newspaper on the wooden bench as you hear his voice, low and smooth as always.

“hiya, pretty.”

your heart leaps at the sight of suguru geto, standing there like the dream he is. his long, silky black hair spills out from beneath a dusty black cowboy hat, cascading over his broad shoulders. dirt covers his forearms, muscles straining under the red plaid shirt barely hanging on by the threads. his black leather jeans hug him in all the right ways, tucked into his tall, scuffed cowboy heel boots, the kind that make your breath hitch every time he walks. 

you smile, trying to keep things light despite the pounding in your chest. you fold the newspaper and place it beside you on the bench. "mmm, shouldn’t you be workin’, handsome?" you tease, squinting against the bright sun as it beats down relentlessly. 

he cocks his head, the wooden toothpick between his lips shifting slightly as he grins. “not today, doll.” but there’s something heavy in his voice that makes your heart skip. he pulls a letter from his back pocket, holding it out. “give this to y’er father, will ya?”

you hesitate, fingers brushing the envelope. it’s addressed in your father’s neat handwriting. “what for? another horse bet?” you laugh softly, but there’s an anxious edge to it. his chuckle, usually warm, feels distant.

“nahhh… ‘m leavin’.”

the words stop you cold. the sun, the crickets, everything fades as you rise from the bench, the hem of your sundress skimming the dusty ground. you can barely breathe.

“n-no, sugu, you can’t leave,” you whisper, voice trembling as tears prick at the edges of your vision. you reach for him, desperate, but he steps back, looking around as if the other farmers might be watching.

“we can’t keep this up, baby. y’know this.” he says softly, eyes full of regret, though he won’t meet your gaze. your grip tightens around the letter, crumpling it in frustration.

“why? do you not love me anymore? is there another woman?” the questions spill out, frantic, as tears spill down your cheeks. his cowboy hat casts a shadow over his face, but you can still see the sadness in his eyes.

he steps closer, his large hands wiping the tears from your face. “he caught us again. found our letters ‘n nearly killed me this time.” 

your heart sinks as the memory floods back—the first time he’d caught you and suguru, the stolen kiss that caused a war between families. it took weeks of tense meetings, your father and geto’s sitting across from each other, finally agreeing that suguru could stay on as a worker, so long as he kept his distance, stayed in line. but your father never trusted him again.

you glance at the other farmers working in the distance, their eyes darting towards your loud sobbing, but you don’t care.

“we can talk to him,” you say, your voice shaky as you grab his hand, trying to pull him toward the barn. “we’ll make him understand.”

but he doesn’t move. he’s planted there, a sorrowful look in his deep violet eyes. his long hair, so soft you used to run your fingers through it, sways slightly in the breeze as he finally speaks.

“he gave me a choice, sweetheart. stay and marry your cousin—or leave.”

you freeze, the weight of his words hitting like a blow to the chest. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. you let go of his hand, stepping back in disbelief. his hands cup your face, pulling you back into the moment, his touch gentle despite the sadness between you. 

“i could never do that to you, my sweet girl. i love you too much.” his voice softens as he presses a kiss to your tear stained cheek. you cling to him, not ready to let go, but he’s already slipping away. 

before you can speak, he pulls off one of his silver rings, pressing it into your palm, firmly closing your fingers around it,

“wait for me, darlin’. i promise you, i’ll come back and marry you.”

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، eternal admirer ،، ⌇ 원우

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،، even on the days i ain't right by your side , i'm keeping my promise that i will be wherever you are ،، .ᐟ 🦋

pairing .ᐟ shy!wonwoo × fem!reader genre .ᐟ office romance au , lifetime crush word count .ᐟ 3.1k song rec. .ᐟ wherever u r ─ umi , v

note .ᐟ my playlist got the best of me─it's one of my favourite masterpiece , hope u guys love it as much as i do !

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Wonwoo first noticed Y/N in primary school, when they were just children sitting in the same classroom. It was something small at first—maybe the way she focused during lessons or how her laughter was bright and genuine. He didn’t know why, but even back then, something about her presence stayed with him.

Through middle school, Wonwoo kept his distance, content with admiring her from afar. He wasn’t the kind of boy to chase someone’s attention. In fact, he often found himself tucked in corners of the classroom, quietly reading while the others played during recess. Y/N was popular—not in the loud or flashy way—but in the way everyone naturally gravitated toward her. She was kind, easygoing, and always surrounded by friends. Wonwoo’s heart quietly thrived in that space of unspoken affection, never daring to break the surface.

High school came and went. Y/N was the star student—good grades, captain of the debate team, and still as radiant as ever. Meanwhile, Wonwoo was in the background, still the quiet boy who excelled in his own way but never sought the limelight. He had accepted by then that his love for her was something that would likely never be returned. It was easier that way. They barely shared more than polite smiles, a handful of group projects, and casual greetings.

His heart, however, had a way of betraying his thoughts. No matter how much he tried to push it down, his feelings for Y/N only grew. The longing became a constant companion—a soft ache he carried silently, never acting on it. He told himself he was okay with just admiring her from the sidelines.

They ended up attending the same university. It was a coincidence that almost felt like fate, though Wonwoo never allowed himself to believe in something as whimsical as that. University was different—they shared classes again, the same building, and occasionally ran into each other at the campus café. Those run-ins were his favorite part of the week. Sometimes they exchanged a few words, just small talk, but it was enough to keep his quiet hope alive.

During their final year, there was a group assignment, and for the first time, Wonwoo found himself working closely with Y/N. It was the most interaction they’d ever had, and for once, he allowed himself to believe they were becoming friends. His heart soared every time she asked for his help or when she smiled and thanked him for something small.

Graduation came quickly after that. Wonwoo had prepared himself for a life where their paths would finally diverge. He’d never confessed his feelings, and he told himself it was for the best. She was going to move on to bigger, brighter things, and he’d be left to move on as well, as he always had.

But life had other plans.

Three months after graduation, Wonwoo found himself at a sleek new office, ready to start his first job as a data analyst. The office was large and modern, a corporate hub buzzing with young professionals. He’d only been there a week when he saw her—Y/N, walking through the glass doors as if it were completely normal that they’d end up in the same place once again. His heart skipped a beat, then two, as she caught sight of him, smiling warmly.

“Wonwoo! I didn’t know you’d be working here too,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way.

He froze for a moment, fumbling for words, before managing a soft, “Yeah, I started last week.”

From that day on, they crossed paths daily—at meetings, during lunch breaks, in the shared spaces of the office. And every time they did, Wonwoo’s heart fluttered with the same nervous energy as it had back in school. Yet, despite all the opportunities, he still couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Then, one afternoon, a project landed on their desks. It required collaboration between departments, and to his utter shock, Wonwoo found himself paired with Y/N. They would be working closely for the next two weeks. His mind spun at the thought of spending so much time with her, but he played it cool, nodding in agreement as if his heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.

The first meeting was nerve-wracking. Y/N sat beside him, their elbows almost touching, and all Wonwoo could focus on was the warmth radiating from her. She asked him questions about the project, listened intently to his suggestions, and for the first time, he felt like she truly saw him—not just as a classmate or colleague, but as someone important.

By the end of the project, they had spent more time together than ever before, and Wonwoo’s heart was in overdrive. Every moment felt surreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake from. The day they submitted their final report, Y/N turned to him with a smile that nearly made his knees buckle.

“We make a pretty good team,” she said, lightly nudging his arm.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up. “We do.”

That evening, back at his shared apartment, Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement. His roommates were lounging in the living room when he burst in, practically glowing.

“You won’t believe what happened,” he blurted out, pacing back and forth.

Mingyu, sitting on the couch with a game controller in hand, raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Wonwoo could hardly stand still as he recounted every small detail—how they’d worked together, how close they’d sat, and how Y/N had smiled at him like that. His friends listened with amused grins, teasing him about his schoolboy crush.

“You’re so whipped,” Seungcheol teased, laughing.

Wonwoo didn’t care. He was giddy, like a teenager all over again. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, something could happen between them. The hope he’d kept buried for so long was starting to bloom, and though he didn’t know where things would lead, he was finally ready to see where this journey would take him.

For now, that smile was enough to keep his heart racing.

The next few days at work were a blur of nervous energy for Wonwoo. Every time he saw Y/N in the office, his heart would leap, and his mind would start racing with all the possibilities. He couldn’t shake the memory of their project, the casual touches, and the way she looked at him. Every moment replayed in his head, keeping him awake at night, wondering if she saw him the same way he saw her.

Despite the rush of excitement he felt inside, outwardly, he was still the same Wonwoo—quiet, reserved, and shy. He wanted to keep things normal, professional even, but his friends had other ideas.

“You’re really going to let this chance slip away?” Mingyu asked one night after work, tossing a pillow at him. “Dude, you’ve liked her since forever! Now you’re practically working together every day, and you’re just gonna stay quiet?”

Wonwoo sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s not that easy, Gyu. What if she doesn’t see me that way? I don’t want to ruin everything.”

Seungcheol, who had been scrolling through his phone, chimed in. “You don’t have to confess your love out of nowhere, man. Just… get closer to her. Be her friend. See where things go.”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Wonwoo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been in love with her from a distance for so long. Actually being around her now feels like… I don’t know, like I’m going to mess it up.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re overthinking this, as usual. Just talk to her. You work in the same office, it’s the perfect excuse.”

As much as Wonwoo hated to admit it, his friends were right. He couldn’t keep waiting for things to happen by chance. He needed to take a step forward. But how?

The opportunity presented itself the next morning.

Wonwoo was sitting at his desk, reviewing some reports, when Y/N approached him with a hesitant smile. “Hey, Wonwoo. Do you have a moment? I could really use your help with something.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression calm. “Sure, what do you need?”

Y/N explained that she was working on a new proposal but had hit a roadblock with the data analysis. “I know you’re great with numbers, and I’m kind of struggling,” she admitted with a small laugh. “Do you think you could take a look?”

For a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t believe she was asking for his help again. His mind raced, but he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I can take a look. Let’s go over it together.”

They ended up spending the next hour in one of the meeting rooms, poring over spreadsheets and brainstorming ideas. Wonwoo found himself relaxing as they worked, focusing more on the task at hand and less on the nervous energy buzzing inside him. Y/N was thoughtful and sharp, always open to his suggestions, and the way she engaged with him made his chest swell with a quiet pride.

As they wrapped up, Y/N turned to him with a grateful smile. “You’re seriously a lifesaver. I don’t know how I’d get through this without your help.”

Wonwoo’s face heated up, and he looked down at the table, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. You could’ve figured it out.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. But seriously, thank you. You’ve been great to work with.”

Before he could respond, their phones buzzed simultaneously—lunchtime. Y/N glanced at her watch and then back at him, hesitating for a second. “Hey, do you want to grab lunch together? It’s been a while since we’ve really talked outside of work.”

Wonwoo’s mind went blank. Lunch? With her? It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a meal, but it felt different now. This was just the two of them, and he didn’t want to overthink it. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

They ended up at a cozy little café near the office, sitting across from each other with steaming cups of coffee and sandwiches. It was the most casual setting they’d been in together in years, and for the first time, Wonwoo allowed himself to relax.

“So,” Y/N started, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, “how’s it been for you, working here? It’s kind of funny that we ended up in the same place after all these years.”

Wonwoo smiled softly. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it either. It’s been good. Different from school, but… in a good way.”

Y/N nodded. “Same here. I was nervous at first, but seeing familiar faces like yours makes it a lot easier.”

His heart flipped at the mention of him making things easier for her, but he tried to keep his cool. They talked more about work, shared memories from university, and slowly, Wonwoo realized how natural it felt being around her. She wasn’t just the girl he’d admired from afar anymore; she was someone he could talk to, laugh with, and maybe even get closer to.

That evening, back at the apartment, he couldn’t contain his excitement once again. His roommates were already waiting for the update as soon as he walked through the door.

“So? How’d it go?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward with a grin.

Wonwoo tried to keep his expression neutral, but the smile that broke through was unstoppable. “We had lunch together.”

Seungcheol sat up straighter. “Lunch? Just the two of you?”

Wonwoo nodded, the warmth spreading through him as he remembered their conversation. “Yeah. It was… it was nice. Really nice.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at you, getting all giddy over lunch. You’ve got it bad, man.”

“I know,” Wonwoo admitted, laughing softly. “But… I think I’m finally starting to see things move forward.”

And for the first time in years, that hope he’d held onto so tightly felt within reach.

As the days passed, the lunch with Y/N became a new routine. They started meeting up more often, sometimes in the office cafeteria, other times at the same cozy café nearby. It wasn’t anything special on the surface—just two colleagues grabbing a bite together—but to Wonwoo, it was everything. Every conversation, every shared laugh, every accidental brush of their hands felt like another step closer to something he had never let himself imagine before.

His roommates, of course, continued to tease him about it at every chance they got.

“So, any big developments?” Seungcheol asked one night, casually flipping through the channels on TV. “Did you hold hands yet?”

Wonwoo groaned, throwing a pillow at him from across the room. “No, we’re just… talking. It’s not like that.”

Mingyu, sprawled out on the couch, shot him a knowing look. “Not yet, maybe. But come on, man. You’re basically going on mini-dates every day. When are you going to make a move?”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo said quickly, though the idea of making a move had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. “We’re just friends. She probably doesn’t even see me that way.”

Seungcheol snorted. “You’re dense, dude. She’s spending all this time with you for a reason. No one’s that nice unless they want to be around you.”

Wonwoo frowned, unsure of what to believe. The thought that Y/N might feel something for him seemed too good to be true. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them crushed. But then again, the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary—it made him wonder. Maybe… just maybe…

The next week, everything changed.

They were working late one evening, finishing up a project that was due the next day. The office was quiet, most of the employees already gone, and it was just the two of them in the meeting room, typing away on their laptops. Wonwoo was focused on the task at hand, trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible, when Y/N suddenly broke the silence.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something?”

His fingers paused on the keyboard, and he looked up to find her staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Sure. What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip like she was gathering her thoughts. “Do you… ever think about what things could’ve been like if we’d been closer back in school? Like, if we’d been better friends or… something more?”

Wonwoo’s heart slammed in his chest. Her words were casual, almost uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in them that made his pulse race. He didn’t know how to respond—didn’t know what she was really asking—but he couldn’t lie to her. Not now.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Probably more than I should.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a small laugh. “I always wondered about you, you know. You were so quiet, so reserved. But you were always… there. I noticed.”

Wonwoo blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Of course I did,” she said, smiling. “I mean, you were always one of the smartest in the class, but you never tried to stand out. I thought that was interesting. You seemed… different.”

He swallowed hard, trying to process her words. All this time, he thought he’d been invisible to her, just a background character in her life. But now, sitting here with her, he realized that she’d been paying attention too.

“I always wanted to get to know you better,” Y/N continued, her voice quiet but sincere. “But I didn’t know how. You were so hard to approach.”

Wonwoo felt a lump form in his throat. He’d been so afraid of getting close to her, so afraid of rejection, that he never gave her a chance to know him. And now, here they were, years later, finally sitting across from each other, finally talking about the things that had been left unsaid for so long.

“I was… scared,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t think you’d ever be interested in someone like me.”

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening even more. “Why would you think that?”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were always so… perfect. Smart, popular, surrounded by people. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, smiling gently. “You’ve always had a chance, Wonwoo.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to something he’d dreamed of hearing for so long. But before he could find the words, Y/N reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against his.

“I know we’ve never been close,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “But I’d like to change that. If you’re open to it.”

Wonwoo stared at her, his mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was she really giving him the chance he’d always wanted?

“I’d like that too,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N’s smile widened, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like maybe—just maybe—everything he’d hoped for was within reach. They sat there for a few moments in silence, the warmth of her hand lingering on his, and for the first time in years, Wonwoo allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more.

That night, when he returned to the apartment, his friends didn’t even need to ask.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Mingyu teased, grinning from ear to ear. “What happened?”

Wonwoo dropped onto the couch, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “We talked. Really talked.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And…” Wonwoo paused, still trying to wrap his head around it all. “She said I’ve always had a chance.”

The room went silent for a moment, and then Mingyu let out a loud whoop, throwing a pillow at him. “Finally! Took you long enough!”

Seungcheol laughed, clapping him on the back. “Looks like things are finally falling into place.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh along with them, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. For the first time, he felt like the walls he’d built around his heart were starting to come down, and with Y/N on the other side, maybe—just maybe—his story was only just beginning.

[fordpinesthemanyouare]

Ford x Fem!Reader

Math Assistant Pt.1

Summary: Ford needs himself an assistant, Stanley makes an online post for him and BOOM there you are, coming to meet him for an interview at the diner.

Warnings: Erm... this is a nothing sandwich I THINK. Please let me know if I should add something

A/N: My brothers in christ please this is my first fic that I wrote on a whim, I had an idea and I started writing. I have never written fan ficiton in my life so pls be nice... also who up wit dey werm to Stanford Pines HOOBA HOOBA!!!!! Okay also I want to write SMUT for this so imagine this is like the really really really long winded plot to the porno. K thanks bye read if u want or dont i dont control you.

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Ford shook his head at Stanley who was seated in front of a new computer now placed in the living room, “I’m still confused on why we should be posting the ad listing “online” rather than the local paper, or putting up flyers around town.” Ford used air quotes for emphasis, he still found the whole idea strange, he liked the computer for being a tool he could use to further research. He didn't like it so much as a vessel for finding candidates for a job he was offering, the thought that he had no idea who was communicating with him unsettled him a bit. Especially knowing the kind of work he was going to be having this future assistant… well assist with.

“Because yer never going to find someone with the qualifications yer asking for in this town” Stan looked over his shoulder at a crossed arm Ford. “Hiring someone for a summer job who has a PhD in Application Math, whatever that means-“

“Applied Mathematics, Stanley” Ford interrupted.

“Whatever it is you're not going to find that here, you and fiddleford are probably the only people in this town to actually have a college degree” he said with a chuckle, turning back to the computer. He was clicking around on some website that Ford had never heard of, let alone just recently finding out what the internet was. “I'm setting up a job listing on some of the local college websites, ya know for people that are studying or just done studying”. The clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys continued as Ford ran the motion through his head, overthinking perhaps every outcome of Stanley posting that job listing. Ultimately though Ford knew he was right in that, no one with at least a degree in Applied Mathematics was going to be residing nearby.

“Just please be careful about the information you include in this job posting, try to keep it minimal as possible. If they ask more questions about specifics you can let them know that I can explain in person.”

Stan looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows slightly downturned with a smirk rising on his face, “I didn’t realize you had hired me to be your assistant, you're going to have to cough up if you want me to do this for you”. Ford groaned in annoyance of his brother, “Stanley you know I don’t know how to use any of that”.

“Exactly why you're going to want to have me help you out with this”, Stanley moved his arm to drape across the back of the chair he was in, looking more directly at him. “That’ll be twenty dollars”, he held out his hand expectantly at his twin. A beat of silence passed between the two as they had a small staring contest, both men’s brows furrowed at the other.

Ford finally reached for his back pocket after he felt he had glared at his brother enough, he slipped a twenty dollar bill from the leather wallet and practically slammed it in his hand before walking in the opposite direction without a word. While Stan on the other hand, was more than beaming when he saw Ford’s hand fall to his back pocket, Stan half shouted as Ford strode out of the room.

“You’ll thank me later when I find the perfect candidate!” He laughed as he said it and returned to more clicking and typing around the website.

Ford returned to the lab to finish up some things before the kids were scheduled to get there later in the month. When they returned from the long months at the ocean, Ford wanted nothing more than to work on something in his lab again. He loved feeling the anticipation of a project becoming something, but of course he knew he could easily get carried away. After Dipper and Mabel left last summer, before Stanley and him were going to head out, he had made a major discovery while working in the lab. He had discovered an atom that was capable of recreating a direct clone of itself and in as many atoms he could count. He continued to work on the project until Stanley was practically dragging him from the house to leave to sail around the world.

While sailing towards one of their final destinations at the end of the trip, Ford finally opened up to Stanley about his worries of falling into the same pits as before. He was worried that he would become too involved, as he already felt himself doing as they were leaving for their trip. He also desperately needed some alone time from Stanley, but he didn’t mention that to him while they were on the boat.

“What if you hired someone to help you with the project?” Stan had offered a possible solution, while he had sat in the boat looking at Ford who was deep in thought over his dilemma. “I mean obviously the last time that happened, it wasn’t great either…” He trailed off after the look on Ford’s face became apparent, regretting the thought of his old college friend.

“I know the last time wasn’t great” Stanley pushed forward, “but maybe if you have someone hired to help with the smaller stuff. Things like using the calculator or something, whatever the small stuff even is to you” he said the last part under a fake cough which earned him a glare from his brother. However, the idea wasn't… terrible, Ford thought. He pondered over the possibilities of having someone helping him out, along with having the two kids upstairs to bother him. If he were to have someone who he didn't have to know that well take on most of the minor details, the equations and such, he would be able to prioritize the best parts of the project while also having time for his family. At least, that’s what he had hoped for when Stanley initially offered the idea.

“That could be a good idea…” Ford said after taking several moments to ponder the possibilities. “I would need someone who could do advanced mathematical equations, with room for equations that could possibly extend what they know…”. Stanley just looked at him deep in thought, wondering how there could be that many things to think about, the answer seemed clear to him.

Back in the lab, Ford could hear Stanley groaning loudly about some ‘unknown error message’. He continued to monitor and take note of the atoms under his advanced microscope for a while, waiting until Stanley had further news of any postings. He wondered what his new assistant would be like, if they could have the same passion for knowledge and understanding as he does.

———

A few days had passed, Ford falling into old habits quickly, holing himself up in the lab for hours upon hours. The only time he was seen over the last 48 hours was to grab more coffee from the kitchen, he caught naps in between work, falling asleep over his piles of scrap paper filled with numbers and letters. Ford had not anticipated how much mathematical reasoning was going to follow the atom cloning discovery, he was falling behind on moving forward with more discoveries on the atoms, but over hundreds of miniscule details that needed solving kept him at the desk. Stan walked down on the 49th hour of Ford’s lock down in the basement, opening the door noisily and making as much noise as possible on the way down to let him know he was on the way. Ford was scribbling away on the nth page of scrap work, crossing out failed attempts of solving equations as Stan broached the lab floor.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat at Ford when he didn’t turn around, even though Stanley was sure to have made enough noise on the way down. Ford turned his head over his shoulder, his body seeming to not want to move from the space it had cramped into. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking ‘What? Im busy’. Stan gave a huff of annoyance before starting,

“I have about 3 applications that I thought were worth looking over, most of the idiots who applied didn’t even have math degrees. All they see in the listing is free housing and they flock like birds trying to claw their way in” he said with a slight chuckle. He strided over to Ford’s desk, as Ford leaned back finally interested in what Stan was saying. He took the papers from Stanley and began to look over them. He began thumbing through the few resumes, looking over each one carefully noting that all three people had at least some qualifications in mathematics. He looked up to Stan and gave him a tight smile.

“I appreciate you getting these for me, I’ll reach out to the ones I feel are qualified.” A beat passed between them, Ford paused for a second wondering if he should just return to work at this point or if Stanley had something else since he hasn't made any move to leave.

“I think the one on the bottom will be the best fit.” Stan said with a certain look in his face that Ford couldn’t place, as he turned to leave. Ford looked at him as he walked towards the stairs with a questioning look on his face, wondering what could have led his brother to place a preference on one of these resumes even though he didn't know what applied mathematics was. As Stan trudged up the stairs Ford called to his brother,

“I'll be sure to look at that one, thank you Stanley.” Which made Stanley pause and turn to look at Ford, a distant smile on his face as he nodded and continued up the stairs. Ford turned back to his desk and pulled the resume on the bottom up to the top, the header in nice bold letters a fine print used, he noted.

Y/N YL/N

He also took note that this was the only two-page resume offered to him, with the education list taking up most of the room. Several universities/schools were listed and his eyes read over the names and degrees that followed. He read all the way to the bottom where it listed your highschool with graduation dated in 1999. He noted this person was in their early 30’s with several bachelors degrees in several sciences, two master’s degrees in statistics and biology, and of course a Ph.D in applied mathematics. The latest graduation listed was University of Oregon masters program in statistics for April, which he noted it was now early May noting it would be fresh on the mind. He moved your resume to the back of the small stack, looking over the first two he skipped over, and honestly he wished he saved yours for last. The first two were jokes compared to the advanced knowledge you listed, he set the first aside after noting that the education list was no longer than a paragraph, and the second resume didn’t take long to set aside either as his eyes raked in the many spelling errors.

He read over your resume again looking for a way to contact you to set up the interview. He noted the phone number and email in the corner of the first page, and made to move upstairs to the kitchen phone. As he stood up however, his muscles almost molded into place from sitting at the desk, stopped him from moving further. He groaned as he began to stretch himself out, thinking about how he couldnt wait to stop looking at math problems for hours on end.

Heading back upstairs he reached the phone and quickly gazed at the microwave clock, 3:49 pm. He was glad it wasn’t later than five, as he picked up the corded receiver and began to punch in the numbers. The phone rang a few times before your voice fluttered over the phone, “Hello?”. Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hello! Yes, is this Y/N YL/N? Oh it is, great, this is Stanford Pines calling about a job posting for the assistant position. I was hoping to set up an interview to discuss further details of the position.”

“I was just wondering if I would hear back from this offer,” the light voice on the other end laughed a pleasant laugh a little before continuing, “I’d love to join you for an interview regarding the position, I’m free anytime, anywhere this coming week and the next.”.

Ford offered a time for tomorrow at the local diner, which he provided the address to. The voice on the phone wished Ford a great rest of his night and that they would see him tomorrow. Ford wished them the normal pleasantries he hated to conduct while making mundane phone calls such as these. He was slightly relieved to find you weren’t completely strange, at least right off the bat. When he hung the phone back on the hanger, Stan suddenly spoke, causing Ford to jump from the lack of warning.

“So did you end up going with the one I said?” Stan looked smug as Ford met his gaze, knowing damn well he scared Ford on purpose. Ford rolled his eyes after he settled after the slight scare,

“Unsurprisingly, as you could probably assume. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the other two. One only had a few community college classes under their belt.” Ford turned to make more coffee, he figured he would stretch his legs now as he was planning on working on some more equations before the meeting tomorrow. Stan gave a hearty laugh, “She’s also quite the looker, surprised me when I was pulling resumes”. Ford gave his brother a look as he asked, “Can’t you make your picture anything you want online?”. He remembers when they got the computer last time the kids were here, Dipper had shown him how he had his profile for online DD&MD. He absolutely didn’t understand it, but Dipper assured him this summer he would teach him. Which would benefit him from not having to pay Stanley anytime he needed something done the modern way (this was not often).

“Yeah but this was on a college website, everyone has their picture I think. It looks all like student ID’s… Oh don’t look at me like that! I looked at all of their profile pictures. She just happened to have the best looking picture.” Stan finished with a shrug and a laugh. Ford had looked at him like he was crazy for looking through all the people who applied profile pictures before feeling the need to ask, “You did give me recommendations on experience, not looks correct?”.

Stan shook his head, “I know you would kill me if I passed on a math nerd over an actual good looking girl” he laughed, turning “I'm going to head out gotta meet some people, don’t wait up for me.” Stan said as he was walking out the door, grabbing the keys as he slammed the door. Ford shook his head and decided to take his brother's word for it, his mind replaying what his twin mentioned, “quite the looker” as if that could have any effect on anything. Ford thought he didn't care much at all for how a person appeared as long as they could solve these problems that's all that mattered, and maybe that they were decently pleasant to work with. He couldnt help but reflect back to the phone call, your light and airy voice filling his ear with pleasant sound, at least you didnt have a horrible voice and he could probably get used to hearing that voice more often, he thought. Ford filled his cup with coffee and headed back downstairs not giving the interview tomorrow much more thought than your voice on the phone.

—————

A/N: Yay I did it!!! yeah so what if its a nothing sandwich?? Didnt i literally say that before hand.. hope you enjoyed if ya read! <3

[wttcsms]

funny you mention when fic writers delete their fics cause i still remember that atsumu fic (counting blessings??) you wrote about him wondering if he made the right choice putting his family over his career and it was just sweet and crunchy and hgiturhj and it destroyed me and i'm pretyt sure it's gone forever but i just wanted to let you know i adored that fic even thought it was probably just a quick side quest for you

ok honestly, deleting my blog instead of archiving it was insane behavior & i regret it sm purely bc i miss all those atsumu fics 😭 it is for sure gone forever because i used to use tumblr's draft system instead of google docs (more insane behavior tbh) and i never crossposted to ao3 😭 many mistakes were made

but, it's funny that YOU mention this because i was seriously considering bringing back my dad!atsumu fic series (which im hoping is the fic you're remembering; i'm not sure if it is, but the one that i'm remembering is his kids accidentally breaking his trophy case and all his trophies and awards get ruined & there's introspection from him & how all these reporters and whatnot said he still had many years left in his prime & his early retirement is a mistake, etc.)

[osaemu]

ok i just got like 99+ anon asks ??? so i'm clearing out my inbox bc they're all "gojo is a MAN. gojo is a DOM." blah blah blah

[shopcat]

wait i just realized u like spider man (in ur carrd). PLEASE talk about him i love him too (he is bi trans btw. canonically. in my head. but canonically)

HEHE i love spideyman it is one of my longterm interests since i was like 15 and ur so right he is literally one of THE trans bi guys like transbi was created for peter parker. i think taking a paragon of masculinity and having him be transgender is actually one of the coolest thing you can do like i'm sorry for adding depth... as if it's my fault... also i'm going to be so real i got this ask but all my comic scans are on my laptop and i ended up getting distracted and read all 5 issues of spider-geddon on my phone bc it has one of my FAVOURITE 616 pete designs BUT !!!! LOOK AT HIMMMMMM . literally peak design choice and he's all banged up .. :( the little cast he made himself

and the iconic 👇

what i was going to say is a few years ago i got very into the comics the into the spiderverse movie was based on which is a really fun run ... such a little treatie just for me. also as an aside i love hobie sm too i can't wait to see him in itsv despite the weird way that story might be going i hear... and of course i love miles . hobie :)

[8aji]

Loved your Izana fic ! Your writing is so delicate? I related so much to izana while reading it

i dont think anyone has ever described my writing as delicate, that's a very sweet and lovely compliment, thank u :D i haven't tried writing such a descriptive piece in a while so it was a little foreign to me but it was fun !! it makes me happy to hear you enjoyed 💕

[rinhaler]

𝐀𝐌 𝐈 (𝟐𝟓𝐅) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝟐𝟖𝐌)

i know it sounds bad but we got high and he's hot!!

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ plug!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for beta reading for me!! this is part of @ohkento's reddit-inspired collab! (ps this isnt a true form fic i just think he looks SEXY IN THAT PIC HNNNNGN) Warnings: 18+, dubcon, mean dom!sukuna, sub!reader, cheating, hate sex ♡, drug taking, weed smoking, blowbacks/shotgunning, heavy degradation, slight praise, fingering ♡, vaginal sex, sixty-nineing ♡, face sitting, squirting ♡, pussy spanking, noncon filming, coercion, manipulation, daddy!kink, creampie, cervix fucking. Words: 10.6k

“I’ve heard about you.” Yuuji starts, turning his head from looking up at the stars to facing you. Your mind feels cloudy, but you return his stare. He thinks your pearly smile belongs in the sky; a permanent constellation to remind him of this moment. “How come this is my first time meeting you?”

You sigh, reaching over as he hands a lit spliff to you. The bonfire rages in front of you both, the smoke burning your eyes until they fill with water.

At least you have the perfect cover if you burst into tears.

“Things got… hard.” you tell him, not really wanting to elaborate. But golden-brown puppy dog eyes will you to continue. It’s stupid, really, how cliché people become when they smoke. You’re no exception. The intoxication and the setting make you feel as though you’re in an indie movie, longing to share your scars and become closer to the one attractive boy giving you his attention. “My ex, he cheated on me. I was with him for two years so it hurt.” you confess, taking a thick drag before passing it back to him, he tuts as he takes it from you.

“I’m really sorry,” he expresses, holding eye contact while he smokes. The feeling rushes straight to his head and through his blood. He laughs a little as he gets comfortable in his seat. “Sorry… I’m not laughing at you.” he clarifies, laughing again.

You start to laugh too, leaning over to grab the spliff from his hand before he sets the back garden on fire with it. Both of your attention is pulled from each other as you hear a scream from inside. The party is still going on indoors, and the scream soon turns into a girly laugh.

No doubt one of your friends flirting with one of the other guys.

“It’s okay.” you assure him, getting just as comfortable in your own seat as you smoke the remainder of the joint. You wrap yourself in the blanket you brought outside and turn your body slightly to face him. “It was with my best friend, too.” you continue, your deepest wound not seeming so scarring as you allow the high to expose your secrets on your behalf.

“Shit.” he shakes his head.

“I’ve been doing therapy and stuff so I’m better. I just wasn’t in the mood to see people…” you explain, jolting upright a little as you realise you’re oversharing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so deep and make you feel uncomfortable.” you tell him.

“I’m fine, I’m the one who asked.” he chuckles, getting comfier under his own blanket as he turns to look at you.

His warm eyes make you feel relaxed, safe. And you hate it. You hate how much of a cliché you really are becoming and you hate that you can’t help it. This moment feels so much bigger than anything, but deep down, you’re paranoid, because you’re sure it’s the drugs talking.

You’ve heard about Yuuji, too.

You’ve heard about how sweet he is and how he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He has a sports scholarship of some kind, and after a quick stalk of his socials you noted how reflected this is in the form of his chiseled body. Could he really be so nice? He seems, perfect.

And apparently he, gives the best head.

“I have a secret.” he tells you, quietly. His voice almost drowned out by the crackling bonfire beside you. You aren’t sure what makes you heat up so quickly. The implication of his words or the way he said them. A lustful look in his eyes as the fire dances wildly beside you both.

“Yeah?” you tell him, cheeks fill with warmth as you try to ignore how fucking hot it is in pursuit of looking cool. And that makes you giggle, for some reason. Yuuji isn’t the one making you flush with heat, it’s the fire, idiot. “T-Tell me.” you encourage him, throwing off your blanket and fanning yourself dramatically.

So much for looking cool.

He grins, almost coyly, as he leans across the arm of his chair. And for some reason, you instinctively mirror him. Is it so secret that you need to be close? He might whisper it to you.

He tilts his head, smirking. His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips a few times. Enough times that you make a note of it. And your heart is fucking racing with each flicker of his gaze. You think you know what’s coming. But you stay still, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“… I really wanna kiss you.” he admits. And if you weren’t hot before, you certainly are now. You try, and likely fail, to keep it cool. A wide grin spreads across your face and you burst into giggles. But your eyes meet his again, and you see a smile just as wide as yours on his face as he observes you.

“Yeah?” you ask, dumbly.

“Yeah.” he nods.

You gulp, shallowly, leaning in closer to him and letting your eyes fall closed. He smirks, again, leaning in until your lips meet. It’s sweet and passionate, until he pulls away. It surprises you a little. Worries you, even. Are you a bad kisser? Maybe you are when you’re high. But worry turns to astonishment as he pulls your chair closer to until the arms of both of your seats touch. He smirks, again, wrapping his arm around your neck as he leans in to kiss you.

And now, you really do hate yourself.

You moan into it.

You aren’t even sure where it came from. Was that really you? He grins, nonetheless, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest as his tongue meets yours in a more than welcome manner. You pull away, a string of spit connecting you both. A kiss infused daze covers your features as you look at him under heavy eyelids, and you pant, deeply.

“I have another secret.” he whispers, stealing another sweet kiss from your raw lips. Gloss smeared over your lip line and a dewiness transferred to his.

“Is it as good as the first?” you tease, giggling as his hand cups your face. You mewl, melting into his touch as his thumb strokes your cheek delicately. Your eyes widen. A look of curiosity replaces the majority of the lust, though you both know it’s still lurking.

“Well,” he starts, his eyes begin to wander. You observe him as his vision roams from the sky to the flames beside you. He takes his time, the anticipation of his words runs rampant through your bloodstream. Until, finally, he blesses you with his gaze once more. “I want to stay with you until the sun comes up. I want you to sit on my lap, with my cock inside you, under our blankets. All night.”

You’d hoped once he told you that your anxiety would have diminished. Though you’re sure with the way his eyes are fixated on your lips, your heart is surely surveying an escape route from your slack-jawed mouth as it pumps hard and violently through you. He doesn’t seem worried that you haven’t said a word, and his gaze doesn’t falter.

“Okay.” you nod.

It excites you. You haven’t been with anyone since your ex. And it might be a bad idea, but it doesn’t stop you. It’s not like you’re rushing into being with someone. It’s been months since things ended with your cheating ex-boyfriend. You stand up, bringing your blanket as you stand over Yuuji, and he holds your hips gently.

He feels under your skirt, smiling when he feels how soaked your panties are but he doesn’t comment. He moves them into the crease of your thigh and encourages you to straddle him.

You do.

Hovering slightly as he pulls down his joggers and his semi springs free. It’s big and pretty, like him. You kiss him as he jerks himself until he’s aching. He’s desperate to bury it inside of your gummy walls, his cock catches against your eager hole with every purposeful stroke.

He throws his head back as you sink down on him, and your hips stutter slightly from the stretch. You’re trying to focus on concealing your bodies with the fuzzy blanket wrapped around you, but your lips fly to his in a bid to silence yourself as he sheaths himself fully.

“Fuck, you’re tight… so wet, too.” he mumbles, hips rolling ever so slightly as he enjoys the feeling of being inside of you raw.

You jolt, panicked, as you hear a knock from the kitchen window. Both of your attention is stolen to see the origin, and you spot a group of partygoers hollering from inside. Two of his friends and one of yours, they all cheer and whoop as they can only assume what’s going on under the blanket.

Yuuji smiles, shaking his head before turning back to capture your lips in another soft kiss. You’re too distracted to notice him flip them off until they disappear.

“Do I remember the night the most perfect woman in the world let me hit her raw after a few minutes of talking under the stars? Yes, baby, I remember the best night of my life, why?” Yuuji asks after you recall that first night you met. “Very cool of you, by the way. I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

You giggle, punching his arm softly as you curl into his side in bed. And you sigh, dreamily, thinking about it again. It’s been over a year since that night and you feel just as hazy around him as you did then. You were worried about him thinking of you as a one night stand. Worried that you’d just given in to this stranger for no real reason only to get your feelings hurt again.

But as the sun began to rise and wake you both up in that horrendously uncomfortable chair, he kissed your forehead and held you tightly against his chest. He stroked your hair until you managed to blink the blurriness from your eyes and see his in a new light. The crackle of the orange and white flames had gone from them. Instead, they were honeyed and soft. The kindest eyes you’d ever seen.

“The McDonald’s breakfast in the carpark was better than the sex in the garden, by the way.” you tease him, earning a tickle attack into your sides.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you were begging me to fuck you in the backseat afterwards.” he laughs, stopping his assault as you begin to scream. You cuddle into him again, his fingers tracing over the flesh of your upper arm. “It was good though, really good. Should we order hash browns?”

“Yes.” you nod, excitedly.

He sits up and reaches over to his bedside cabinet to grab his phone. He sighs as he checks his notifications. You sigh, too, watching him as he gets out of your warm bed in search of his clothes.

So much for hash browns.

“Yuuji…” you start.

“Don’t start, please, I don’t wanna leave in a bad mood.” he tells you. He smirks when he realises you’re checking out his abs, only focusing on him again as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. “I don’t want to rush moving in just because you feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not rushing you, and I don’t feel sorry for you!” you tell him, shuffling onto your knees and crawling across the bed until you’re kneeling beside the edge of the mattress. “I hate your brother. He’s a creep and he treats you like shit. I have plenty of room here… you can move in here and have your own space and—”

“I know he’s a dick.” he agrees, pulling on his socks and slipping his feet into his sneakers. “But he’s my only family. I’m not just gonna ditch him. Why don’t you move in with me?” he wonders.

“Um… I live in a townhouse instead of an apartment and it’s better, it’s in a better neighbourhood and your brother isn’t here.” you smile, smugly, and it earns a chuckle from him.

“Okay, you’re right about that. Speaking of which though I can’t stay tonight but you can come over if you want. I’ll order those hash browns for you tomorrow when I’m on my to the gym. I’m booked with PT sessions my entire shift.”

“I’m not waking up at 6am to eat hash browns alone, Yuuji.” you roll your eyes.

“You can text me when you wake up and I’ll order them for you. Pleeeeease?” he flutters his eyelashes dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Good girl.”

“I didn’t say yes?” you respond, flabbergasted. “Is Sukuna gonna be there?”

“Well, yeah. He lives there.” Yuuji tells you, earning an eye roll from you. He is in complete agreement on how much his older brother sucks. He understands why you hate him. He’s irritating, he’s crass and seems to have no concept of personal space or privacy. Yuuji doesn’t care for his brother in the least, and he has no doubt the feeling is mutual. There is love there, of course, but only out of necessity. “You don’t seem to mind him when the family discount applies for weed, though. Interesting.” he says with faux suspicion.

“Okay, that is literally the only thing he’s good for.” you remind him. He laughs, agreeing.

He kisses your lips chastely, hurrying to grab his backpack to hurry home to his expectant brother. The only two reasons he ever leaves you in haste are for work, or for Sukuna. Today was meant to be a day you could spend together since you both have the day off.

But of course, Sukuna ruins everything.

YUUJI: FORGOT TO ASK YUUJI: ARE WE SMOKING TONIGHT? YOU: DUH! YUUJI: BETTER BE NICE TO SUKUNA FOR THAT FAMILY DISCOUNT THEN 😉

You stand outside of your boyfriends apartment complex, shivering, waiting for somebody to answer the door. He ordered a taxi for you since he knows you always worry about your car getting broken into when you visit, his own car suffering numerous break-ins in the span of your relationship.

And really, you don’t want somebody to answer the door. You want it to be Yuuji, specifically, the thought of Sukuna answering the door and tormenting you until you get to the safety of Yuuji’s room is entirely too much to handle. Your nerves are already shredded by being here, the thought of having a battle of words with Sukuna will surely tip you over the edge.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t think you’d get here so quickly.” you hear a voice from behind you. You turn around to see Yuuji. Fuck. You see the hallway light flicker on from under the crack of the front door to his apartment and you realise too late that a demon has been summoned. “I went and got cookie ingredients, I thought we could bake some before we smoke later.”

“Sounds fun.” you smile, his sweet idea assuages the tension you feel, albeit briefly, before his elder brother swings open the front door. Yuuji pulls his lips into a thin line when you can barely contain the scoff that scratches through your throat. Sukuna rolls his eyes, moving aside to let you both in. He peaks inside the bag Yuuji is holding before his little brother smacks his hand away. “Do not touch or I will kill you.” Yuuji warns him, carrying the ingredients to the kitchen before putting them away.

You decide to help, hoping it will go quicker if you pitch in and you can escape his brother’s intimidating stare faster. Sukuna approaches, leaning over a counter as he watches you both.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, princess. It’s been a while.” Sukuna taunts, but you ignore him. He clacks his fingernails against the countertop, and the sound is jarring. He smirks when you shoot him a pointedly aggravated stare, giving him reason to do it more. “What do we owe the pleasure?”

You sigh, nostrils flaring as you put two bars of chocolate in the fridge.

“We’re just hanging out, gonna bake these cookies and smoke.” Yuuji answers for you. So you smile, falsely, and rest your back against the wall once you’re done. “Oh, speaking of which… family discount?”

“I’m busy now.” Sukuna looks at you and then back at his brother. “Ask me later.” he expresses, red eyes fixed on you for a moment before he turns to leave.

It’s like you can finally breathe again when you hear him go to his room and close the door. You kick yourself away from the wall and into Yuuji’s open arms. He smooths his heavy hand over your hair, hoping you’ll relax a little. He spends some time figuring out what you can do to pass some time, knowing you’ll need a distraction.

“Let’s just bake the cookies.” you speak, words muffled as you talk into his shirt. You pull away as he looks down at you so that you can speak to him clearly. “I just wanna stay in your room all night…”

“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” he nods. “Okay, lets get all of the ingredients out again.”

He takes his time trying to remember where everything is. You, on the other hand, are rushing to gather them all. Sukuna has a way of making your anxiety spike. He’s too… commandeering. He has a way of forcing everyone’s attention to remain solely on him whether you try to ignore him or not.

You’re intimidated by him, he’s more muscular than your boyfriend and he’s a drug dealer for fuck sake.

It brings shame to you when Yuuji has to snap his fingers to get you out of your trance as you think about his brother. You start cutting up the chocolate bars while he puts ingredients in the stand mixer.

And your mind wanders, again. It’s not like you’re scared of Sukuna. Well, you are, terrified would be more apt. But you know he wouldn’t do anything to you. He’d risk losing Yuuji. And as much as they don’t really get along, they’re extremely co-dependent. Especially Sukuna. He likes the presence of his little sibling and has a slight superiority complex due to being older.

The reality is, you think Sukuna would be lost without Yuuji. Lonely, even. And having Yuuji’s steady income is a nice sense of security for him. He makes plenty of money being a dealer, of course, but he knows it’s a fools game. It’s not reliable and it’s risky.

You put the chocolate chunks into the mixer and watch him as he masterfully fills the ingredients into the bowl. Your thoughts calm for a moment as you can do nought but watch the whisk whir.

“You know I wanna move in with you eventually, right?” Yuuji tells you, and it fully breaks you from your train of thought. You look at him, staying silent so that he can feel free to continue speaking. He leans against the counter as the ingredients continue to mix. “I wanna live with you… marry you… all that.”

His talk of marriage makes your cheeks fill with heat, though you’ve gotten better at playing things cool since your first encounter. You just smile, and nod, as you drink in the delicious information.

“I’m just worried about him.” he tilts his head, indicating he is referring to his elder brother. You nod in understanding, though you don’t have much sympathy for your future brother-in-law. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. “We aren’t like you, we don’t have a big family. It’s just us.”

“Well my family isn’t that—” you stop yourself, looking into Yuuji’s disappointed eyes. It’s foolish to pretend you aren’t blessed with an adoring family. You’re your parents only child, though. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have a sibling. And, of course, you’re spoilt rotten. The reality is that if you didn’t come from privilege, you and Yuuji could have been neighbours. But your parents weren’t about to let you live in a dangerous neighbourhood when they can easily afford to subsidise you. “It must be tough, baby. I know you feel guilty for wanting to leave him.” you rub your hand up and down his arm as a show of comfort.

“Yeah…”

“But…” you start, his eyes locking with yours again. “He’s a grown man, Yuuji. You’ve lived the same life and look at you now… You’re nothing like him.”

You’re right. He knows you are, that’s why you’re standing in silence until the timer goes off and he checks the ingredient bowl. It’s sticky. He scoops a little on his finger and dots it on your nose. The kitchen fills with laughter as you try to retaliate. He’s too fast for you, though.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” he tells you as the situation calms. He licks the chocolatey dough from your nose and presses a gentle kiss onto the tip. And dammit you can’t help but smile.

You begin rolling the dough into balls on a tray. The silence has dissipated, but your thoughts still run rampant. Should Sukuna really be Yuuji’s responsibility? No, of course not. But Yuuji won’t see it that way. He’s sensitive and caring. God, he cares so much.

It makes you dizzy as you watch him smile and walk with the cookies to the oven. They smell so great already, you could have eaten them raw. But they’ll be even better when they’re baked to perfection.

You’ve made these cookies so many times now. The pair of you have process committed to memory. They’re so good. Especially with a tall glass of milk. You always tease Yuuji when you do this since he’s always left with a milk moustache after devouring his plate of cookies.

The sound of the timer rings through the kitchen again. You clap excitedly as Yuuji covers his hands with some oven mitts. The chocolatey smell hits you both like a train, the pair of you moaning involuntarily as you inhale it. He brings them over to the countertop, setting them down to cool.

Sukuna smells it, too. He loves it when you bake cookies because he knows neither of you will deny him one. He’s been smoking and playing video games since he retreated to his room. He’s thoroughly stoned and would very much enjoy a sweet treat right about now. He pauses his game, and the sound of his door opening and closing brings back all of the tension to your body.

“Here.” Sukuna speaks as he enters the kitchen. He tosses a baggie onto the counter and looks at his brother expectantly. Yuuji nods, reaching into his pocket for his wallet so he can pay him. Sukuna’s eyes are fixed on you in the meantime. And as you go to grab the weed, he places his hand over it and pulls it back towards himself.

“Thanks, man.” Yuuji smiles, handing the cash to his brother who pockets it without even checking it’s right. Though Sukuna’s stare doesn’t waver, you find yourself looking down at his hand covering the weed and then turning away completely. He internally beams with pride at that, thrilled to know it’s still so easy to intimidate you. But on the outside it’s simply portrayed as a slight curve of the corner of his mouth. “Is something wrong?” Yuuji wonders.

“Yeah, actually,” Sukuna speaks, finding your eyes again before he looks into Yuuji’s. “I want a cookie, call it family tax.”

“Take two.” you tell him, sternly, a new ferocity in your eyes he hasn’t seen before. You walk over to them and place two cookies on a little plate for him. You go to hand it to him, but as he reaches out to grab them you place them down on the counter. “Let them cool.” you smile, sarcastically.

“Aren’t you sweet.” Sukuna snarls, teeth bared as he slides the plate towards himself. “Sweet enough for your turn. Pay up, you know what I want.” he chuckles. He turns his head and taps his finger against his cheek.

“C’mon, dude…” Yuuji tries to interject. You know Yuuji is furious, deep down. But he won’t call him out on it. Last time he did he wouldn’t give either of you any weed for two weeks. It wouldn’t be a problem if you knew anyone else you could buy from. And the shit Sukuna gets is good. Yuuji has given up on trying to be a dominating presence when it comes to living with his brother. Sukuna is always one step ahead and Yuuji can’t quite keep up.

You go to him, reluctantly, and plant a soft kiss to his cheek. It makes your skin crawl. He makes your skin crawl. And despite your sense of urgency to flee the scene, you can’t. His hand grabs your wrist, and Yuuji is ready to spring to action. Sukuna’s face is unbearably close to yours. His red eyes piercing your own as he does all he can to make you feel small and pathetic.

“That’s a good girl.” he sneers, placing the baggie on the top of your hand after releasing your wrist. He chuckles, darkly, as he walks away with his plate of cookies, taking a bite out of one before he disappears. He kicks his bedroom door shut behind himself, the sound of laughter and guns shooting loudly from his TV are the only thing either of you can hear.

“I’ll bring the cookies and clean up.” Yuuji sighs as he ventures to the sink. “Go and get comfy and pick a movie.”

You don’t say anything, leaving your boyfriend to tidy up in silence. You’re seething with rage. This isn’t right. He does this every single time you’re here and you buy a deal from him. And Yuuji just lets him. You know you neither of you have much choice if you want the access and ability to smoke. But it’s getting to you, badly.

Around fifteen minutes pass after you left the kitchen. You’ve since gotten into your sweatpants and comfortable vest. Shorts would have been preferable, since there’s still an uncomfortable sizzle to the November air, but you’ve learnt your lesson about what you wear when you visit the Itadori household. You’ve had Sukuna leer at your thighs more times than you can count. And it’s never subtle, his eyes lingering for a moment too long to have it potentially be an accident. It’s always so lecherous and purposeful.

You decide to watch Clueless, again. You’re sure Yuuji will be defeated when he sees your choice, he’s lost count of how many times you’ve watched it recently. It’s been a comfort movie to you, for some reason, since Halloween.

“Hey.” Yuuji smiles as he enters the room, somehow managing to carry two glasses of milk and two plates of cookies. “What are we watching?” he asks, looking at the TV. You rush to grab a plate and a glass from his hands to ease his load, putting them on your bedside cabinet as he does the same with his own.

“Clueless.” you smile, happily. “Her step-brother has been hitting really different for me, lately.”

He closes his eyes and stifles a sigh. You can see a laugh desperate to break free as his mouth shakes through a smile. But to his credit, he manages to compose himself, eyes opening again once the reality has set in. Clueless. Again!

“Sounds great baby.”

It’s been a week since you last got to spent time with Yuuji. Your work schedules have been clashing, it feels like a lifetime since you got to spend any time together.

You enjoyed your hash browns in bed after he ordered them for you when you stayed over at his place. Though he ended up ordering Sukuna breakfast, too, leading to uncomfortable extended time with him that you prefer to avoid at all costs. He tried to make conversation with you, he often does, but you took it upon yourself to go back to bed with your hash browns. You tried to enjoy them. You tried to relax. But it’s near impossible when you’re under the same roof as someone you loathe. You watched a Youtube video on your phone while you ate, and then quickly got ready and booked a taxi home.

You’d hoped next time you got to see your boyfriend it would be at your house and away from Sukuna. But, alas, that was not the case. You received a text from him at 10am asking you to come over ASAP.

YOU: is something wrong??

YUUJI: no

YUUJI: just stressed

YUUJI: pls can u come? I’m working tomorrow so I cant stay over ☹️

YOU: okay ☹️ omw 💖

You’ve never had a text like this from him before, and it scared you. Something was telling you that he was downplaying how he was feeling. It took you barely any time to get ready. Forgoing makeup and making an effort in favour of rushing to your boyfriend’s side. Maybe something had happened at work.

Maybe he cheated on you.

He could be dying!

“Shut up…” you whisper to yourself as you pack your toothbrush into its travel case and throw it into your overnight bag. You pick up your car keys, not wanting to waste time waiting for a taxi.

You throw your bag on the passenger seat and speedily drive off. Your anxiety and the adrenaline was getting to you, you knew you’d have to calm down or you’d end up getting into an accident. As you focused on getting to your destination in one piece, you took several deep, slow breaths.

You’re safe.

You park up your car and lock it up. With your bag in tow, you rush to your boyfriend’s apartment. Your left foot taps impatiently after you knock on the door.

No answer.

You knock a little louder.

No answer.

And then you find yourself knocking louder, repeatedly, while you wait for your boyfriend to answer the door. He knew you were coming. He said it was urgent. So why are you waiting here, freezing, for him to answer the door? You’re filled with relief when you see his figure obscuring the light trickling through the cracks of the door. Your teeth chatter, and you begin stepping from foot to foot in a bid to warm through.

But your blood runs cold as the wrong Itadori opens the door.

“Heh. What do you want?” he asks, a cocky grin permeating his features.

“Move.” you demand, barging past him with your bag so that you can hurry to Yuuji’s side. Maybe something is wrong. He could be sick and resting in bed.

“He’s not here.” Sukuna informs you, halting you in your tracks. You turn to face him, a scowl that could kill adorning your face. Did he do something to him? All fear you’ve ever felt from him dies as you approach him, setting down your bag so that you can hit or punch or scratch him if needs be. “Relax.” he tells you.

“Where is he?”

“At work. I thought you had your entire relationship on a Google calendar, you didn’t know?” he laughs, angling his body so that he can bypass you in the skinny hallway. You huff a little, picking up your bag again so that you can follow him.

“But he asked me to come over, he said it was urgent.” you explain, though he doesn’t stop walking. You hurry after him, grabbing his arm until he stops. And he does, his eyes slowly dart down to where your hand holds onto his bicep until you awkwardly let go. “S-Sorry. I’m just confused. Why would he text me if he’s not even here?”

“Sweetheart, I’m not his PA. I don’t fucking know.” he turns away from you again, opening his bedroom door. You huff, again, utterly defeated as you try and decide what to do. You look towards his bedroom door and then to the entrance. You suppose you could go home until he finishes work. Or you could go to the gym he works at and find out what’s happening. You head towards the front door, thinking you’ll decide once you start driving. Sukuna hasn’t fully retreated into his room yet, leaning against his door frame as he calls out to you. “I’m making a bucket, want one?”

Your eyebrows knot as you turn to face him, another involuntary scoff turning to laughter as you look at him in disbelief. He’s got some nerve. You don’t even want to respond, opting to carry on your journey towards the entrance before you look at him again.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t want to smoke with you.” you roll your eyes.

“Awe, why not, princess? I won’t even add any tax.” he smirks, already heading towards the kitchen as if you’ve given him the answer he clearly wants to hear. And you hate him with your whole heart, because fuck, if you aren’t intrigued. It’s been a while since you’ve had a gravity bong. “Excellent choice, good girl.” he winks as he sees you out of the corner of his eye, as he grabs an empty one litre water bottle from beneath the sink.

You don’t say anything, leaning over the island counter as he prepares the bong for you both. It’s embarrassing, after some time, that you find yourself having to avert your gaze as realise you’ve been staring at his defined back muscles. He’d decided to forgo any form of clothing to cover his torso, only wearing a low riding pair of grey sweatpants, though they’re a darker grey than yours.

It isn’t much better as he whistles, tilting his head for you to join him by the sink. You’d close your eyes if it didn’t make you look like a complete freak, only to hide them from his flexing abs and his juicy pecs. The tattoos aren’t helping, either. It only serves as a reminder that you’re hopelessly trying not to ogle your boyfriends, older, larger, and scarier brother. He’s behaving interestingly, though. He’s never been like this before. He’s dismissive and almost uninterested in you.

“C’mere.” he orders you, dragging you closer to him as he lights the weed in the bowl. You gulp, a little intimidated. Gravity bongs are something you don’t partake in often, you can’t even remember the last time you did one. He moves his finger from the hole he’d poked into the bottle and the water begins to drain from it. Smoke fills the bottle in it’s wake, and when empty, he screws the lid off for you. “Quickly.”

You begin to inhale everything. Not caring how fucked up you feel in the least. You show no signs of stopping, and it impresses him. Your fingers hook around the kitchen counter as you finish, knowing when your bones feel like jelly that you’ve had too much.

“Atta girl,” he comments before repeating the process for himself. He pays you no mind as you wander towards the corner counter space, lifting yourself up like you’re the queen of the kitchen taking her throne.

He continues to ignore your presence as he smokes, inhaling and entirely draining the smoke that had filled the bottle. He tosses it into the sink, walking by you to grab a bag of ice from the freezer, filling two glasses to the brim with the frozen cubes. He fills them with water, sliding one to you.

“Drink.” he commands, and you do, not realising how thirsty you’d become. Your throat burning and eyes flooded with red veins. You drink the water and immediately need to refill. He shows you a kindness, though, handing you his glass to drink before filling your own again. “You’re a real lightweight, huh?”

“Oh shut up. I’m just gonna go.” you tell him, jumping down from the counter and going to collect your bag again.

“You can’t, you’re high.” he reminds you, and in your stoned state the sentence makes you burst into laughter. “You’ll end up crashing your car. Fool.” he gives you another glass of water, refilling his own for a second time before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Great, so I’m stuck here with you and nothing to do?” you pout, opening the fridge to see if there’s anything to eat. “Why did we not make cookies?” you mumble to yourself.

“I have snacks in my room.” Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, like a snake offering an apple in the garden of Eden. You’re tempted. God, you’re tempted. What else are you going to do until Yuuji gets home? He grins, widely, as he hears your feet follow after him as he walks into his bedroom.

You’ve never been in here before. It’s quite tidy, all things considered. It’s very tidy, actually. You’d expected it to be some dimly lit shit hole. It smells nice, save for the weed, the windows are open wide and the sheets smell fresh as you sit on his bed.

He throws a sleeve of Oreos at you and you turn into a giddy child. The two of you kick off your shoes, not caring for where they land as you both get comfortable on his bed. You’re above the duvet, sitting adjacent to him but angled away with your legs crossed. He gets under the covers, though, picking up his Xbox controller as he mindlessly plays GTA V.

You spend far too much time licking the cream of your first Oreo, utterly entranced by the characters, the plot and the violence of the game he’s playing. He doesn’t seem to mind when you ask him a million questions about it, either. He’s more amused that you’re so clueless.

“Here,” he tosses the controller at you. “Go for a drive, it’s fun when you’re stoned.” he tells you.

You’ve played video games before, you aren’t a total idiot. Though he had expected you to ask for more help when he gave you the controller. He thinks it’s cute that you try to obey the speed limits and stop at every red light.

He reaches into his bedside cabinet, pulling out a joint. It’s ignited quickly, his eyes squinting as he inhales and watches the screen to make sure you’re not getting him into trouble on his game.

“You’re not bad when you’re high.” you tell him, passing the controller back to him. He takes it from you, saving his progress before reaching out to smoke again. He sits upright, and you barely react when he pulls you away from where you were sitting until you're facing him. “U-Um…”

He’s giving you a look. That look. The look Yuuji gave you when he told you he had a secret. God, they could be fucking twins if Sukuna wasn’t covered in tattoos, it’s scary. But he doesn’t say he has a secret; he doesn’t say a word. He simply watches you with a pondering stare, but an aim behind his eyes nonetheless.

Your own eyes shift when you see him bring the spliff from his ashtray to his lips. The cherry end of it igniting holds your focus before your eyes are on his again, enraptured by the moment and what he’s thinking. He sucks the smoke deep down into his lungs, and you can’t help but watch the way his chest moves from his heavy breath.

You gasp, softly, as he snatches your stare once again. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and tug downwards until your jaw is lowered. His face is barely a centimetre from yours, you know he’s going to kiss you. But why are you about to let him? His lips ghost yours, and you’re taken aback as you feel a plume of smoke invade your mouth. He’s impressed when you breathe it in, though, but smirks wildly as you begin to cough it up.

“You taste like cookies and cream.” he whispers into your ear, the sensation of his words rushes straight to your heat. But your sense comes back, pushing him away from you as you look sternly into his eyes.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” you remind him, preparing to move back to where you were sitting prior. But he stops you, easily, pushing your body down until your head is in his lap but over the duvet cover. “Sukuna…” you sigh, your head and your limbs feel too heavy to move on their own anymore.

“Mm?”

“I’m wi- I’m with Yuuji… I’m with your brother.” you remind him, you move your head a little so that you can look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, though, still focused on his game. You can hear dialogue again, and guns, you’re not as exciting in comparison to that, you suppose.

“I know.” he speaks, his jawline bulging as he swallows and clenches his teeth slightly. “Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna kiss you. Silly girl.” he speaks, still not bothering to grant you with the eye contact you’re so desperately craving for some reason.

But your body betrays you as a whimper escapes from your throat. And that does get his attention. His game pauses, and he looks down at you. But you hide your face, scrunching your eyes shut so he can’t read your expression. But your shy little display tells him all he needs to know.

“Oh? You minx,” he torments you further, and you want to scream. You can’t hide your face anymore, your cheeks becoming too warm and your entire body sizzling with heat. You’re panting, uncomfortably as you try and cool down. “You wanted me to kiss you. You’re with Yuuji, remember?”

“I didn’t! I- I- would never. I love Yuuji, I’m in love with him! I’d never kiss you. Yuck.” you fib, if you weren’t high, you know you’d never be in this predicament. You know you’d never have agreed to hang out with him. But really, it’s a lie. You weren’t high when he asked if you wanted to do buckets. He intrigued you, and you’re a fool, because you fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.

“Hm…” he hums, his spliff resting between his lips as his eyes linger on your cleavage before roaming down your body to your sweatpants. He places the blunt back in the ashtray, his eyes setting their sights on your hands. He moves one with ease above your head, though you instinctively pull it back. But it’s too late, the other one joins, a singular hand of his pin both of your wrists down above your head. You wriggle against him, but you don’t pose a challenge in the least.

“S-Sukuna?” you question as his fingers breach the waistline of your sweatpants. A sadistic smirk sprawls across his face as he realises in your haste to be here you’d not bothered putting on panties. You mewl, desperately, as his fingers find your petalled flesh. He doesn’t do much, simply feeling your slick and teasing your folds as he examines your facial expressions.

“You didn’t want me to kiss you?” he asks again. He drags two fingers up your slippery slit until he finds your clit, rubbing targeted circles around it slowly. The tension makes your hips buck, but his face is stern as he watches you keen for him. “Then why is this cunt soaked?”

His words almost bring you to tears, and he can tell. The way they fill with water so rapidly and your face becomes sweaty. You’re ashamed. You’re embarrassed. He’s humiliating you, but you’re too turned on to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop.

“I hate you!” you tell him, and there is certainly venom behind it. Because you mean it, you really fucking mean it. He’s the absolute worst. You’re so in love with Yuuji, but he’s ruined everything, now. You should have known this would happen. He’s been flirting and teasing and bothering you throughout your entire relationship with Yuuji. But you never thought it would come to this, ever. Especially after what you’ve been through, you’d never want to inflict that same agonising betrayal onto Yuuji.

“I know. You think I’m so beneath you, yeah?” he grins, and your mouth falls open in surprise, though his circling touch doesn’t stop. “I’m a drug dealer, I’m a bastard, I’m a piece of shit. But, sweetheart, me ‘n Yuuji didn’t grow up with daddy’s bank account like you. But look at you, princess. You hate me and you’re still letting me play with your sloppy cunt.”

“Fuck you.”

“You can, I know you want that. You’re drenched. My fuckin’ fingers are pruning.” he laughs, you want nothing more than to cover your face in shame, but you can’t while Sukuna’s heavy hand trap your wrists. “Awe, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Much cuter than when you’re trying to be tough f’me.” his rubbing halts, though the sense of abandonment is short lived as he plunges two thick fingers into you tight hole, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit again.

“O-Oh, fuck, hnng—” you groan, eyes meeting his as he pleasures you. And he drinks in the sight. Your tongue lolled from your mouth as you accommodate his touch, the pads of his fingers batter your g-spot again and again until your back arches. “Sukuna, s-stop, we can’t.” you warn him.

He smirks, ignoring you, opting to do the opposite. He increases the pace in which his fingers torment you, his cock leaks when he sees a few tears spill from your eyes. He’s that good, huh? Maybe his little brother isn’t as talented.

“You’re fucking tight. You’re gonna cum, aren’tcha?” he taunts you, you attempt to clamp your thighs around his hand, but it only spurs him on more. His fingers sink deeper. Your mind and rationale become lost to him. “You’re gonna cum for a bastard like me? Your boyfriends brother, too. Gonna cum in your pants like a virgin just for me? Pathetic little girl.”

“Oh FUCK, GOD!” you cry out, thighs trembling around his hand as you orgasm. Your chest heaves, and he doesn’t fail to notice how your nipples have began to poke through your vest. “C-Christ, okay, lets just forget—”

“I’m not done with you.” he speaks, it cuts through you as he lets your hands go. You massage them quickly, before he pushes his full weight on top of you as you lie flat against the mattress atop the sheets. He holds your jaw, roughly, and kisses you.

He humps his clothed, hard cock against your soaked sweatpants, your slick dampening them with each roll of his hips. He breathes heavily as you kiss. An exchange of saliva and clashing teeth as you moan and break away before licking at each other’s tongues again and again.

You shudder when you feel him put his hands down your pants again, collecting the dewiness at the apex of your thighs before forcing it onto your tongue. And you suck, gratefully, replacing the loss of his lips with his monstrously thick fingers. You can hardly believe he fingered you so easily.

Your lips wrap around his digits beautifully. He moans as he watches your little hands in comparison to his own hold it in place so you can bob your head up and down the length, your tongue licks and laves until there isn’t a trace of your dewiness left.

So he kisses you, again, tongues tangling as he dry fucks his cock into your clothed core. His hands roam and pinch and squeeze every inch of your body that he can grab. He yanks your sweatpants down, tossing them aside with little care to where they might land. And he surprises you, again, when he manoeuvres you seamlessly so that you’re straddling him.

He thinks it’s cute as you look around, unsure of how you got into this position. But he brings you back to him when he humps up into you so that you fall forwards. You kiss him again, but he breaks it to speak.

“Let me taste you, baby. Sit on my face.” he tells you. You’re nervous, but you move yourself so that you’re hovering above him. He pushes a finger into your hole and you throw your head back in satisfaction. “I said sit. I wanna know what a slutty princess cunt tastes like, so fucking sit.” he orders, his arms hooking around your thighs and forcing you down until you smother him with your heat.

“FUCK,” you moan, loudly, as his nose nudges against your throbbing clit. You aren’t sure what to do with so much freedom to move. The way he slurps and feasts on your dripping flesh sends wave after wave of embarrassment through you. And he’s loud he’s so fucking noisy as he moans into your heat and drinks every drop that your heavenly cunt has to offer. “J-Jesus… ah—!” you yelp, feeling his palm come down hard to strike your behind.

You begin to roll your hips, rubbing your pussy up and down over his face and stimulating your clit with his nose. He reaches under your vest, tweaking your nipple as you hump his face. He spanks you again, quickly, as you stop moving. You’re too gone, completely lost in the moment as you use him for your pleasure. You’d never have expected this from him.

He relinquishes your nipple to free his cock from it’s material prison. You heard the sticky sound of it ring through the room as he jerks himself off. His moaning becomes louder. The divine taste of your cunt and the ability to stroke himself goes straight to his head. You’re gone, you’re fucking gone. But he’s right behind you. The way you’re smothering him makes him lightheaded, but he’s not letting you go until he’s ready.

You see the pink silhouette of his cock as you look over your shoulder, but you’re desperate to get a better view. He groans, so loudly that you think he might have came, as you tug on his pink hair. Using it to your advantage as you ride his face into your next toe-curling orgasm. And at that, you do collapse. Practically singing his name as you cum in his mouth, only when you’ve reached your high does he let up on you.

He admires the view of your tits as you back up to look down at him, throwing your vest over your head as carelessly as he’s discarded your pants. His face is shimmering with your juices, and you feel another searing tidal wave of embarrassment as the reality sets in that you’ve done this to him. And you’re still cheating on your boyfriend. But you’re past the point of no return, you think. Yuuji is barely on your mind, all of your attention is on his brother, now.

And he’s still not through with you yet.

“Do you need some cock?” he asks.

“Y-Yes.” you nod, pathetically.

“Look at it, then. Look at my cock and beg for it.” he tells you.

You adjust your position so that you’re hovering above his face again but facing his cock perfectly. It’s beautiful, you think. More defined than Yuuji’s but around the same size and width. His cockhead is more prominent and the veins are unmissable. You’d have begged without even being asked if you’d gotten the chance to see it earlier.

“Go on,” he starts. You feel his hands between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down roughly. “Beg for my cock, whore.”

“Please, please Sukuna. I need you to fuck me.” you start, completely reduced to tears as you look at it as your mouth waters. You hold him with both hands, and you’re still unable to hold the entire length of it. “Wanna cum on you. W-Want you to b-bruise my cervix. Need to feel you inside, please, please please.” you’re practically sobbing as you continue.

“Kiss it.” he demands. “Worship my cock, and I’ll decide if your slutty cunt is worthy.” he tells you. Your eyes widen, but you kiss his tip without question. It’s so sweet and affectionate despite how sordid and lewd it is. But you can’t help it. It’s worthy of worship. You’re sure it’ll hurt, but you’ll take it. You don’t mind in the least.

You lick your tongue across his slit, poking your tongue into it slightly and relishing in how he hisses from the sensation. He buries his face in your cunt again, moaning into your soaking folds as you please him.

His length is freed from one of your hands, making the decision to cup his balls as your kiss down his shaft towards his pubis. His head is thrown back as you make contact with his balls, the grunt he releases is ethereal, you’d never have known such beautiful sounds could from him.

You scream, slightly, as he spanks your ass. It encourages you to take him down your throat and ignore your gag reflex and you bob and suck and run your tongue along each vein it can detect. He can barely focus on eating you out, too bewildered with your near pornographic performance.

“Such a good little cocksucker. No wonder Yuuji likes you.” he spanks you again. “Think he’d still like you if I told him I’ve been balls deep down your throat, slut? I’m not so sure. But I like you, a lot more now.”

“S-Shut up.” you tell him, defiantly. You silence him as you lower your pussy to his lips again, distracting him momentarily with your sweet taste.

You feel his cock flexing in your hand, like he’s ready to blow his load right down your willing throat. Even though you don’t want him to cum like this, you wouldn’t mind. You’ll swallow every last drop for him.

He stops you, though, shoving you away from him so that he doesn’t cum prematurely.

“Hands and knees, now.” he speaks coldly. He admires your face quickly before you get into the position he wants you in. It’s glistening with sweat, tears, spit, and his precum. “Good fucking girl.” he spanks you as you arch your back and wait patiently for him. Your legs spread apart and your cunt pulses in anticipation for him to slot himself inside.

He doesn’t though, not right away. Instead, he leans over to his beside table and pulls his phone off charge. He kneels behind you as he pulls up the camera app and swiping to video mode. His sweatpants are shoved down his thighs and rest at his knees. He takes a few photos of your glittering, pulsating cunt, spreading it open as his fingers dig into one of your ass cheeks.

“Pretty fuckin’ princess pussy…” he moans, and you mirror him, following it with a giggle. You feel a sense of pride at his praise, arching your back deeper. “Ohhh there she is, good girl, good little slut.”

He drags his cockhead through your shimmering folds, gasping each time it catches against your hole.

“P-Please fuck me, daddy, n-eed it.” you whine, earning another hard slap against your ass. He’s happy, of course. He didn’t expect you to be such a slut, he’d never have expected you to utter such a filthy title for him of all people. He’s certainly never heard you refer to Yuuji as daddy whenever he hears you fucking through the thin walls.

“You’ve got good manners, for a whore.” he speaks, your hole flutters with each word, but he sees how hard you clench as he degrades you. A new understanding of what your body likes. He’d only been doing it for his benefit, but now, he knows you like it too. “Do you like being a whore for daddy, hm?”

“Y-Yes,” you pant, “Love bein’ a whore for you, daddy…”

“Cute. I’ll give you my cock, then.” he pushes the tip in before pulling out completely again, chuckling at how whiny you are from the loss. “But you know, princess, good whores like to be cummed in. You’ll let me, won’t you?”

“Please… please cum inside. W-Want you to fill me up!” you tell him, and it’s enough. It’s more than enough to have him bullying his cock into your desperate cunt. You moan, boisterously from the stretch. You’re sure their neighbours won’t be happy if they’re home, the whole complex probably heard you. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

He’s glad that you said he could cum inside.

It’s not like you had a choice, though.

“Do you still want me to bruise your cervix?” he asks, angling the phone in his hand to capture how fucking deep he is inside of you. Your ass pressed flush against him as you swallow his cock hungrily. You nod, dumbly, yelping again when you feel a stinging slap against your cushioned ass. “Words.”

“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.” you wince.

“You’re such a good fuck toy, aren’t you?” he laughs.

He begins to pound into you, his brute strength and weight behind every aggressive pummel of his hips. It hurts, God, it fucking hurts as his tip nudges against your cervix. But you don’t care, you’re sure you will when you’re sober and your logical train of thought returns.

But now, in this moment, you truly are Sukuna’s fuck toy.

And it feels fucking sublime.

He captures on film the way that you moan and gasp and plead for something you aren’t even aware of. The way your hands grip into his pristine white sheets. But is favourite part is watching how your pussy stretches open as you swallow his coke can cock. And the way your ass ripples with each pulverizing thrust into you.

“F-Fuck,” he moans, “You’re fucking suffocating me.” he speaks, barely able to contain himself as he feels heady with lust. He doesn’t stop, though, he doesn’t care if you cum anymore. He’ll finger you again to finish you off if needs be, but for now, he needs to be selfish. Thoughts of filling you up and flooding your unprotected womb make him feral.

“Sukuna! S-Stop!” you warn him.

“Huh?” he responds, showing no intention of stopping or slowing as he rams his cock into you repeatedly. The only thing on his mind is finishing, he couldn’t care less about your change of heart or guilty conscience.

“F-Feels funny, I- I can’t! Hnnng—!” you finish, cunt squirting and gushing like a fountain all over him. “Oh my god…” you pant, burying your face in the pillows as you hide your shame from him.

“Holy fuck,” he responds, thrilled that he’d captured the moment on film. You show no signs of stopping either. You squirt as much as a backed-up teenager getting his first handjob. He spanks your pussy and rubs his hand all over it, making a complete mess of the two of you and the sheets below. “Dirty little squirter, hah? Fuck, you’re like a pornstar.” he tells you, chuckling again.

You don’t dare show your face, but you mewl into the pillows as you ride out the rest of your high as he shoves his cock back into you.

“Do it again, on my cock.” he demands.

“C-Can’t, can’t cum anymore.” you tell him, utterly spent and defeated as you allow him to use your body for his own benefit.

“Brat. You’ll cum on daddy’s cock and be grateful that I’ve been so good to you.” he explains. And true to his word, he manages to build it up in you again, somehow, as he continuously batters his length into your g-spot until your vision turns white.

He’s not doing much better, either, still enraptured by the sight of your dripping wet pussy and soiled sheets. It’s something he needs to see again, a sight he will treasure ‘til the day he fucking dies.

“Cum, slut. Make a fucking mess.” he speaks through gritted teeth.

“Mmmnf, hah, aaaah—!” you moan, granting his wish. The sight helps him topple over into his own bliss. His cum flooding your ruined walls, he fucks it further into you, but pulls out eventually to see his sperm dripping from your filthy cunt.

“Are you embarrassed, brat? You sprayed yourself again.” he snickers, spreading your pussy open with two fingers to see the mixture of his cum and your release spill from your twitching hole. “Has Yuuji ever made you do that? No… I’m sure he doesn’t know you’re this much of a dirty whore. But I do, I know now.”

The mere mention of the man you’ve betrayed has you bursting into tears. The sex was mind-blowing, yes, but at what cost? You’ve been begging him to move in. Hell, he was talking about marrying you. But you can’t have that with him, now, not after this.

You sobered up a little after a shower, making sure to keep the door locked as you washed yourself of your indiscretion. You even waited in there until you dried off to get changed, not wanting to risk Sukuna seeing you naked again. The damage is done, of course, but you at least want to be able to proudly say it was a mistake that will never happen again.

Maybe Yuuji will forgive you.

There’s no way you can keep it from him. Not after what you went through. It’ll break his heart, of course it will. But you can’t hide it, it’ll just get worse over time when it eventually comes out, because it will. Whether you tell him or Sukuna does through a weed induced stupor, the truth will come out.

You’ve been checking the time on your phone repeatedly to see if Yuuji has finished work yet. Eager and filled with fear and anxiety so that you can tell him, honestly, what happened. He’s going to hate you. There’s no way he won’t hate you after this. But you owe it to him and you owe it to yourself to be truthful.

You tense up as you hear a knock at the door. Yuuji wouldn’t knock, so you know who it is.

“Go away.” you warn him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Aw, don’t talk to daddy like that.” he smiles, a shit eating grin that you want to smash against concrete.

“You’ve ruined my life, get out of here.” you tell him, crossing your legs as you check the time on your phone again. You sigh, throwing it further down the bed so that it’s out of reach. You’d missed how he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh as he turned to leave. But you stop him. “Don’t tell Yuuji, please. I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Tell him… what?”

You look at him, bewildered, unable to process if he’s being serious or not.

“That we fucked.” you remind him, deciding you aren’t about to spend all day trying to decipher his tone. “I need to be the one to tell him, so don’t say anything.”

“Oh, tell him that?” he questions, laughing again as he realises he knows something you don’t know.

“It’s not fucking funny, Sukuna!”

“Yeah, it is, you’re a little slow on the uptake.” he laughs some more, sitting on the edge of the bed. His ruby red eyes piercing into yours intimidatingly despite the smile on his face. “You don’t need to tell Yuuji anything.”

“Yeah, I d—”

“Yuuji knows.” he laughs, louder, almost bursting into hysterics as he sees the astonished look on your face.

“W-What?” you sigh, looking around the room in horror.

“Yeah… I mean, c’mon.” he smirks. “Why else would he text you to come over, when he wasn’t even home?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[surftrips]

ABOUT YOU | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: luke x reader fluff w like an aphrodite!reader? reader is all sunshine and flowers and makes luke all soft/campers teasing luke abt the way reader changed him 🤭

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is probably my favorite luke fic that i've written so far thank u so much anon for sending this request in! writing aphrodite!reader is so much fun, i'm such a sucker for the opposites trope. hope you all enjoy 🤍

You were the human embodiment of sunshine, a real life angel. Gentle, kind, and lovely— in other words, the complete and total opposite of Luke Castellan. He was dark and broody, strong and rough, and not totally unfriendly, but definitely intimidating. 

But even if you weren’t the daughter of Aphrodite, Luke believed that you would still be just as beautiful. There was something in the way you carried yourself that had made his heart surrender the second he laid eyes on you. You became the one and only exception in his long list of grievances. 

So it came as no surprise to anyone at camp when the two of you started dating, just to the dismay of many of your admirers and a few of Luke’s as well. If there was one thing you had in common, it was your beauty. With his puppy dog eyes and curly brown hair, Luke was a sight for sore eyes, almost as much as you were. 

One day, you were walking hand in hand when one of the younger campers accidentally bumped into Luke. On any other occasion, Luke might have started an altercation, but today, he simply smiled and said, “Just be careful next time.” The camper stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked into place as you softly giggled.

“What?” he smiled, looking over at you as the kid took it as an opportunity to run away. 

“Nothing,” you mused. “Just that I think you’re getting soft, Luke Castellan.” You poked a finger at his chest playfully. 

“What?” he shook his head. “No, I’m not.” 

Though he attempts to keep a serious face, you could see the amusement in his eyes. He often looked at you like this, ready to go along with anything you said— no matter how silly or whimsical your remarks. 

“Okay, lover boy. Whatever you say,” you shrugged, offering him a kiss on his cheek that instantly causes color to rush into his face. Ignoring that he’s just proven your point, he attempts to hide his expression by seeking solace in the crook of your neck. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often thought his favorite place at camp was the spot in between your jaw and collarbone. 

Even though most of the campers were still a little frightened by the idea of approaching Luke, his closest friends were not afraid to speak their minds. 

“Dude, you’re like, totally whipped for her,” Percy remarked over lunch once. 

“And you’re like, totally fourteen years old,” Luke said.

“I think the fourteen year old’s right,” Chris jumped in.

“Dude! I thought you were supposed to have my back,” Luke throws up his arms in mock aggravation.

The two boys snickered, causing Luke to speak up again. “I am not whipped for Y/N.” 

“Oh, sure,” Chris began. “So the reason you’re practically skipping around camp and letting whatever team Aphrodite cabin is in win Capture the Flag is because…?” 

“Oh, and don’t forget the constant checking his phone to see if she texted back and sharing his blanket with her at the campfire!” Percy pointed out. “Meanwhile, I’m over here freezing…” 

“Maybe,” Luke scrambled to come up with an answer. “Maybe, I was just in a really good mood those days. It could have absolutely nothing to do with Y/N.” 

He barely believed the words himself, and Chris and Percy were certainly not convinced. Luke wasn’t even sure why he felt the need to defend himself. 

“Dude, it’s okay if you are, she’s literally your girlfriend,” Chris said.

“Hey! I have an idea, let’s ask Annabeth!” Percy declared.

“Annabeth? Why her?” Luke furrowed his brow. 

“Because, she’s a girl. And she’s known you the longest, she can give us a real answer,” Percy said matter-of-factly. 

Luke thought it over. The young boy was technically right, Annabeth was like a little sister to him. If anyone could tell if he had changed since dating you, it would be her. This came as both a good and bad realization to him, because what if he had changed? Gods, was it that obvious? 

Before he could agree to asking Annabeth, the young girl was already at their table. Percy must have called her over while Luke was thinking. 

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down across from him with her plate of food. 

“Oh, nothing, just talking about how soft Luke has gotten since he started dating Y/N,” Chris explained with a grin on his face. 

“Oh?” Annabeth said, seemingly amused. 

“Yeah, we actually wanted to get your opinion,” Percy continued. “Would you say you agree or disagree, that you know, Luke is nicer now that he’s with Y/N?”

Annabeth seemed to think it over for a second. “Gods, you guys are such children,” she scoffed. 

“Thank you!” Luke cut in.

“I mean, all of you,” she looked at Luke pointedly. “Why do you care what a bunch of kids think about you anyway? And not that it matters, but you, Castellan, are most definitely whipped for Y/N.” 

That shut Luke up immediately, and caused cheers to erupt from Chris and Percy, who were clapping each other on their backs as if they had just won Capture the Flag. 

Annabeth smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “Sorry, Luke. It’s true.” 

Later that night, Luke snuck over to the Aphrodite Cabin to find you. You were surprised when Luke woke you up, it had been a while since he came seeking your comfort in the middle of the night. He used to have bad nightmares, but you noticed he had gotten better since you started dating. You’d like to think it was because of you, but perhaps that would be thinking too highly of yourself.  

In an effort to clear his mind, you suggested to go on a walk together. He agreed, and you climbed out of bed as quietly as you could.

You allowed him a few minutes of silence until his heavy breathing had slowed down and his grip on your hand had loosened. 

“What’s on your mind, hon?” you asked softly. 

Luke didn’t respond at first, distracting himself by tracing the lines on the palm of your hand. You were happy to give him as much time as he needed, placing your other hand on his back and gently drawing circles.

After a while, he did speak up. “Uhm, do you think that I’m, like, unapproachable?” 

Your heart sank and you stopped in your tracks. “What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just something that’s been on my mind recently.” 

“Luke, is this about what I said to you the other day? Because I didn’t mean it like that—” 

“No, baby,” he rushed. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you had done something wrong. He wasn’t sure that you could ever do wrong, not in his eyes. “I was just talking to Percy and Chris at lunch today and they were kind of teasing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of your boyfriend, Mr. Tough Guy, being teased by a few kids younger than him. “I’m sorry, babe. Continue,” you placed a supportive hand on his chest as you regained your composure. 

“They said that I’ve changed since we started dating.” 

Though you were an expert in human emotion, there were still times you couldn’t read the expression on Luke’s face. You couldn’t tell if he thought of this as a bad thing, or if he was just curious to see what you thought. You decided on the latter. “Changed how so?” 

“They think I’m soft now because I’m always in a good mood and stuff…” he trailed off. Even now, in the dark of the night, you could tell he was blushing.

“Well,” you started, trying to find the right words. “You know, I was just teasing you the other day, babe. I think you’ve always been this way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think you’ve always been a giant teddy bear,” you grinned, unable to contain yourself. “Luke, you’re not as bad as everyone thinks you are.” 

By now, both of you had stopped walking. Ever since Luke arrived at camp, he had been characterized as the tough, stony, and slightly antagonistic guy. All because of a scar he carried and the stories of what he had gone through with Annabeth and Thalia. Many people were still intimidated by him, despite his position as the counselor in Hermes and his job to welcome newcomers. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure if this was the way he was, or the way that he was made to be. 

As if reading his thoughts, you said, “You don’t have to be what they tell you to be. Do you know the words I use to describe you when someone asks me about you?” 

Unable to speak, Luke simply shook his head. 

“Gentle, kind, and lovely.” 

Luke wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but certainly nothing close to the words you had chosen. “You do not,” he objected. 

“I'm serious, baby,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in until your foreheads were touching. “I think you’re the most wonderful and caring guy I’ve ever met. I think you always have been, you just don’t always show it.”

He stared at you intently before pulling a loose strand of hair out of your face. You kissed the top of his head, “I must be one lucky girl.” 

“Hey, if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that I’m the lucky one,” he said, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

[uzurakis]

can u do how jjk boys (include megumi PLEASE) would react to you getting all pretty and dolled up to go out (and u just look soooooooooo good)

TOO PRETTY TO BE TRUE!

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. geto suguru. nanami kento. itadori yuuji.

n. your wish is my command nonnie, and ya don’t need to say megs cause i’ll ALWAYS include him in every shit that i write (he comes in one package okay) and.. I WENT OVERBOARD WRITING THIS HELPLEP i usually limit to 4 charas every post but yours made my creative space going and I HAD TO DO 5.. so thank you for that. i looooveee the idea mwah mwah i hope the writing makes justice for your cute hc <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you were running late; a girl's usual problem before a date. your hands fumbled with the clasp of your earrings, and shit, you cursed softly under your breath. outside, you knew your boyfriend was waiting patiently, or so you hoped. the idea of keeping him waiting made you anxious, but you wanted everything to be perfect.

just as you finished adjusting your hair, you heard the front door creak open. fushiguro’s soft footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you felt a twinge of panic. he never liked to intrude, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. "hey, what’s taking so long?" you heard him mutter.

you turned around just as he reached the doorway to your room. his eyes widened, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. fushiguro's usual stoic expression melted into one of pure surprise. his cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, and his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"is everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter in your chest.

megumi blinked, finally finding his voice. "a-ah, yeah, everything’s fine," his eyes remained locked on the ground while he stammered. how in the hell did this place get so hot? he thought to himself as he fiddled with his shirt collar.

"you look… um, really pretty."

"no, i mean, don't get me wrong though! you're al-"

you blushed at his earnestness, but you also smiled. "you too, gumi."

the guy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly but managed a small smile in return. "sorry i kinda barged in,” gently, he reached his hand to you and said, “next time, take all the time you need. i’ll wait.”

GOJO SATORU. "well, well, look at you," someone called out, sauntering over with an exaggerated attitude. "you really went all out for our little date, huh?"

you couldn't help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "aand you didn't even bother to dress up," you teased back, gesturing to his usual attire. “so lame for the gojo satoru, boo-hoo.”

"why would i need to dress up when i have the most gorgeous person in the world right here?" the guy stepped closer, taking your hand and spinning you around playfully. "you look soo good, i kind of want to take you home right now. can’t have everyone else stealing glances at my date."

a giggle managed to escape your lips, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "you're ridiculous, toru," shaking your head at him.

then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, one that could captivate a soul. "but seriously, you look amazing. i'm the luckiest guy here."

you swatted at his arm playfully, but your heart swelled from his words. "alright, mr. smooth talker, where are we going?"

gojo straightened up, still holding your hand. "anywhere you want, as long as i get to show you off. but maybe we’ll head home a bit early, just in case," and of course, he didn’t forget to wink.

ITADORI YUUJI. a knock on your door sent a jolt of excitement through you. you had taken extra time to get ready for your date with itadori tonight in the hopes of surprising him. he was standing there with an enormous smile on his face as you opened the door.

“bless me!” his pink eyes widened with admiration. “you look beautiful as always, baby.”

your cheeks heated beneath his surprising compliment. "nah, baby, that’s too much."

his enthusiasm contagious, he practically bounced on his toes. “i’m serious! you’re soo pretty that i might die from your prettiness—is that an actual word—but look at me, i'm serious!”

as you stepped outside, itadori kept showering you with compliments. "that outfit is perfect on you. and your hair! you’re always cute, but.. you really shine tonight."

“you’re too sweet, yuu,”

"i mean it! you deserve to hear it every day baby!”

NANAMI KENTO. you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you heard a firm knock at the door. taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find nanami standing there, his usual composed demeanor softened by a warm smile.

his eyes swept over you, taking in every detail. "you look beautiful, sweetheart." he said simply, sincere and direct. the compliment made your heart skip a beat.

"thank you, kento," goddamn, a gentleman is always a gentleman.

he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "i appreciate the effort you put into this. it means a lot to me." his smile widened just a fraction, but the warmth in his eyes spoke more than his words could.

you smiled back, touched by his straightforwardness. "it’s because i’m excited to spend time with you."

nanami nodded, offering his hand. "shall we go?"

you sensed serenity and joy as soon as you held his hand. "i’m glad you liked it," you said softly as you both made your way down the street.

GETO SUGURU. “fucking hell, you look so pretty,” he swore under his breath, emerald orbs wide as he took in your appearance. “too pretty to be true.”

“hmm, you think so, suguru?” a little teasing might not hurt, right? his usually calm and composed expression shifting to one of pure astonishment the moment he saw you. and there it is again, his usual up-to-no-good grin.

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and cocky with that smile of his. “oh, you’re mine,” he declared, voice firm yet filled with a protective tenderness. “definitely mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his sudden possessiveness, yet you couldn't help but feel a rush of delight at his words. “i’m yours,” you confirmed softly, tippy toeing to peck his cheeks.

he pulled your waist gently into his hook, grip both protective and warm. “i just… i don’t want anyone else looking at you like this,” the words were murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “you’re too beautiful.”

you leaned into him, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace. “i only want you to look at me like this, suguru.”

he smiled, a rare and genuine expression that lit up his face. “good. because i’m not letting you go.” he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “let’s go, princess."

@uzurakis

[appocalipse]

heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.

thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words

"Stevie!"

You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...

"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.

"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."

Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.

"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."

You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.

"Am not!"

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.

Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.

It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.

"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.

"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"

You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.

"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."

"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"

You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"

"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"

"My hair?"

Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.

"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."

"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."

Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"

"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."

"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."

"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"

Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."

With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.

Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.

"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."

He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"

"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."

His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"

You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"

He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"

"Why not?"

Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.

You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."

Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.

You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?

"Well, what if I carried you?"

"Like a princess?"

Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

"How romantic," Nancy observes.

"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.

"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."

"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."

"As if," Eddie counters.

Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.

"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."

"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."

"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."

"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."

"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."

Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."

And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."

"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"

You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."

"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."

Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.

The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."

"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

[nanaslutt]

What do u think of Gojo begging you to give him a handjob and promising he wont cum during NNN but surprise surprise he fails so u ruin his orgasm 🤯

I think YES???? this was insanely fun to write, tysm for the ask nonnie<33

tell me why i forgot nnn was a thing LOLLL

contains: fem reader, crack, handjobs, whiney!satoru, established relationship, cumming handsfree, ruined orgasm, failed edging, begging, gojo calls you 'ma'am ' once as a joke, 'baby' and 'princess' used for reader

2k words :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"Baby pleeeeease." gojo whines, laying his head on your knees from where he sits between your legs on the carpeted floor, 

"Satoru, you were just begging me last month to not let you cum during November no matter what." you sighed, he does this every year, making you swear up and down that you'll hold him accountable and not let him lose NNN, hearing from geto that if you last the whole month, the orgasm on December first was mind-numbing

of course, he wouldn't know, becasue every year he came crawling to you about how stupid this challenge was, barely a week into the challenge, and he was dragging you to the nearest surface and fucking you against it, filling your guts with his cum,

but not this time, miraculously he had held out this long, only eight days before the challenge was over. he of course had you to thank for thank, deep down you knew he really did want to complete this challenge, and thats why he was so insistant every time the dreaded month came around. 

but Satoru was a slut for pleasure, especially for the kind of pleasure he got from you. Whether it was your hands, mouth, cunt, he could get off using any part of your body and he would be the happiest man on earth

"I won't cum, swear, just miss your hands on me baby pleeeease," he practically cried, hugging onto your knees, turning his face into your skin whining and groaning like a spoiled child,

"Toru, you and I both know you do not have enough self-restraint to just edge yourself," knowing him better than himself

together, you guys have tried edging, Satoru never being able to make it past the first time you stopped right before he came, once again saying how stupid this was, quickly fucking his cock back into you and bringing himself to the brink of orgasm using your body, cumming with no restraint, even though he was once again the one who brought the idea to you,

"I'm starting to think you might have commitment issues," you mumble under your breath, his fake cries and obnoxious pouting pulling you out of your thoughts, phone dropping by your side, looking down at him with a huff, 

"Please, all you gotta do is rub my cock a little, just for a second please," he drags out the please once more, lip sticking out in a pout as he looks up through his snowy lashes at you, "jus wanna feel you please, it's been so long, need it, baby, please."

shutting your eyes and sighing once again, unable to deny him any longer with him being so persistent, especially when he asks you so nicely, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of his, 

"oh my goddd Satoru, okay, fine." you shake your head, slapping your hand over your face, and he perks up, immediately abandoning his spoiled rich kid act, leaving fat kisses all over your knees, "yes yes yes thank you, baby, promise I won't let you down," 

he stands up and you peek through the cracks in your fingers, hand still on your face and your jaw practically drops at the sight, he is already sporting a huge tent in the crotch of his grey sweats, smile stretching from ear to ear while he looks down at you,

"you're already hard?" you exclaim, disbelief plastered on your face, "feelin' on ur legs made me hard," he says nonchalantly, the expression on your face not changing, "now up you go!" leaning down he scoops you up from under your arms and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, "woah! toru!" you exclaim, caught off guard as he takes long strides to your bedroom

strong hold on the underside of your knees as he hums, making his way through the hallway, finally reaching his destination and plopping you down in front of him on the hard floor, "how do ya want me your majesty?" he smirks, hands in his pockets waiting for your direction, "jus' go lay down on the bed you freak," pushing his solid chest back towards the king mattress, 

putting on a show as he faux stumbles backward, flopping back on the bed, fluffy white hair on the pillows, putting one hand behind his head, the other coming down to rub himself over his sweats, "don't leave me waiting princess" biting his lip, lips corners of his lips curling up into a flirty smile, 

"stop fucking touching yourself," you sigh, "gonna cum before I even get my hands on you." You're feeling undeniably aroused yourself, you and Gojo have a very active sex life, never going weeks without touching each other unless he is away on a mission. since he made quite the effort with the challenge this time around (largely thanks to you) you've been feeling pretty antsy, participation in the challenge yourself as a way of supporting him, 

though there's no real pressure on you, if you wanted you could rub one out at any time. the only downside is that getting off on your own never felt as good as it did with Satoru,

he whistles, giving himself one last grope before his heavy hand joins the other behind his head, "yes ma'am" he says slightly teasing tone lacing his voice,

you crawled on top of him, resting your ass right above his knees, "remember Satoru, you're not going to cu-" he cuts you off, waving his hand in front of you, rolling his eyes, "yeah yeah, not gunna cum, I got it," he says snarkily, a little too snarky for someone who was quite literally on his knees begging you to touch his stupid cock, but you digress,

narrowing your eyes at him before sliding your slender fingers over his upper thighs, over his hips, teasing his lower stomach, barely grazing his twitching clothed cock on the way back down, repeating the process a couple of times, sometimes opting to skip over running your fingers over his cock altogether

his jaw is slightly slack, watching your hands intently, "cmon, don't be a tease baby," he sighs, pushing his hips off the bed towards you, "You're in no place to make demands right now," staring into his intimidating eyes challengingly, 

he bites his lip, shutting his mouth, awaiting your move, pushing his shirt up, resting right under his pecs as you tease your fingers on the short white hairs of his happy trail, right above the hem of his pants,

smile now off his face, looking concentrated as he bites his lip harshly, eyes darting back between your fingers and pretty face, looking so concentrated on what you were doing,

your cunt was aching to feel him inside you, trying to push your own needs out of your brain, feeling nearly impossible as you exposed more and more of his happy trail the more you teased down his pelvis,

finally grabbing the fabric of his pants and sliding them down his incredibly toned thighs, he lifted his hips, aiding you in undressing him, his breathing started to pick up when you looked closely at his cock straining under his boxers

staring at a dark spot where his pre was leaking from his tip under his briefs, trying not to roll your eyes back when he made his cock jump. taking your index finger and rubbing it on the wet patch on the head of his dick, drawing little circles around it, his breath hitching, breathing picking up slightly watching you pull your finger back slowly, a string of cum connecting the two of you,

giving his boxers the same treatment, slipping your fingers underneath the hem and sliding them down, his hips raising again to make your job easier, and he's grinning so hard when your jaw drops open, watching his flushed cock slap back against his tummy, flexing the appendage again, putting on a show for you,

"your cock is so pretty Toru," you marvel, squeezing your thighs together so you can focus on the task at hand, "ur leaking so much," finger tapping his angry head a couple of times, proving your point as the cum makes little 'plap' 'plap' sounds when your finger comes in contact with him,

"There's so much it looks like you already came," you tease, finally wrapping your hand around his warm tip, hips leaving the bed once more to slide into your hand, "hips on the bed please Satoru," you correct, muscles in his thighs and abs flexing as you feel him connect his ankles together behind you,

starting to give him steady shallow pumps and his jaw is slack, eyes rolling back when you twist your wrist over the head of his neglected dick, "fuuuuck baby, just what I needed," he breathily laughs out a smile, "a little faster please," he requests, both hands leaving their place behind his head to grip the sheets by his sides,

"let me know when you feel close," you instruct, waiting to see him nod in acknowledgment before pumping your hand a little faster, sliding effortlessly up and down his cock with vulgar wet sounds thanks to his leaky cock,

"yesyesyes s-shit, squeeze harder," breaths entering and leaving his lungs rapidly as he tips his head back into the pillows, when you follow his instructions he lets out a long groan, abs clenching more frequently, your body jolting a bit every time he fidgeted his legs around the sheets behind you, 

breathing heavily yourself, free hand coming down to press against the heat between your thighs, a temporary relief as you tried to memorize his every reaction he gives you,

"you close Satoru?" you question, noticing his breath come in shorter pants, warm cock twitching and straining against your hands, his thighs. tensing and unsensing more frequently, all telltale signs of his impending orgasm, "I asked you a question," you emphasized with a strong squeeze at the base of his lengthy cock, "n-no, not close yet, promise," he bites his lip, keeping his eyes screwed shut, sheets between his fingers practically ripping before you continue,

choosing to believe him you keep up the previous pace, squeezing your fingers tight around the tip of his cock on the downstroke and that's when you notice one of his hands abandoning his grip on the poor sheets to cover his mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo, and you know exactly whats happening

He's going to cum, and he lied to you about it

jerking your hand up his cock once more before you let go completely, anticipating his moves when he shoots his head up, hands reaching for his cock and you catch his wrists, pining them above his head, if he had half a mind he would break out of your grip with ease, but he was milliseconds from cumming, not having his usual strength coursing through his body,

"no! Nononono," he's protesting when his back arches, curling in on itself, legs thrashing under your weight as his cock dribbles out long spurts of cum, twitching and throbbing with every string, "Fuuuuck nooo, no, ughhh," he groans at you for ruining his orgasm, whole body twitching, 

dick starting to soften in his own mess against his lower abs,

"you seriously thought you were gonna get away with that? you asked in an incredulous tone, hes pouting, letting out a long groan of your name before tipping his head forward and making eye contact with you,

"That was sooo mean" he pouts, "ive been saving that load..." he whines out, cock still twitching in the aftershocks,

"what was mean, is when I asked if you were gonna cum and you lied straight to my face," you spat, laughing in disbelief, swinging your legs off his torso while his eyes follow your figure, watching you wipe your hands using a tissue from the box you keep on the bedside table, he groans out your name again, "I'm sorryyyy, was feeling sooo good," he tries to justify

giving him a look that screams are you actually serious right now, as you start towards the door, "sounds like you need a pussyban to me," you deadpan, walking through the doorframe out into the hallway,

"WOAH!! woah, woahwoahwoah," practically teleporting his feet on the floor, hastily pulling up his pants as he chases you out of the room, hot on your trail, "baby! baby, haha, let's not do anything drastic now, kay?" he baffles in disbelief, worry laced in his voice. 

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[lowkeyrobin]

Hawk x sensitive!reader where even after he becomes all "tough" and "badass" he's still gentle with reader. I just need fluff and everything is so sickly sweet like I want my teeth to rot.

- ♠️

(again i forgot which one it was)

YES OMG ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ; I'm screaming and crying were gonna fight wtf ; thank u for requesting some cobra kai stuff love u bae ; also sorry ab this cause I had no idea what to do here

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; the one i love

summary ; while hawk is off becoming mean and badass, he's still nice to you, knowing you're kind of sensitive, and he doesn't want to lose his s/o

warnings ; language, talk of physical violence

track ; dedicated to the one i love, the mamas & the papas

word count ; 849

masterlist

Eli, these past few months, had changed. A lot. You didn't know whether you liked it or not either. He wasn't even Eli anymore, he was Hawk.

He'd taken on karate, got a new haircut, and completely changed his demeanor and personality. You couldn't lie, he looked cool, especially while showing off his moves, but what wasn't cool was him getting into unnecessary drama.

You'd seen some things online, though you tend not to stick around for any of it. You were caught up by Eli himself, considering you did online school. The bullying from Sam LaRusso and her friends had gotten too bad long ago, forcing you to hide away for the rest of your high school career.

You considered this transition good for Eli, as he was turning a new page in his story. He was able to defend himself, he was confident, and he wasn't being bullied anymore. But, at the same time, he was unrecognizable.

It wasn't in a bad way, not yet, at least. But this "Hawk" guy, wasn't your boyfriend, Eli. You fell into the arms of Eli Moskowitz, not Hawk.

Thankfully, he knew how to retain his relationship. Thank God his standards didn't raise, nor did his ego, as he changed.

You were slightly sensitive, you'd say, kind of emotional, mentally thin, maybe.

You had a bad day, though. That's all that mattered in this second.

You were trying to deep clean your room because it was nasty, and you were already mad. Nothing was working how you wanted it to. Your grades were dropping because you were becoming depressed and unmotivated, and you just wanted to see your boyfriend again. But of course, he'd been busy with karate and working out.

You yell out of pure frustration as you throw a pillow across the room toward your door before crashing onto your bed.

"Ow"

You quickly look up to see Eli standing in your doorway, having been hit by that pillow.

"Fuck, sorry" You mumble, proceeding to hide your face in another pillow that lays on your bed.

He slowly and cautiously steps in your room, picking up the thrown cushion. "What's wrong?"

"...Bad day"

He frowns, "What's wrong?"

You look up at him, spiky hair immediately catching your attention. "Can you wash out the gel before talking to me? You're intimidating looking like a badass"

He chuckles with a nod, "Yeah, I'll be right back"

You couldn't stand the mohawk. It intimidated you, like you were gonna be the next victim of his karate moves. He understood as you'd been honest about it long ago, and would often wash out his hair in the sink and use a towel to then dry his hair.

Now, his roots were dark brown, while the midsection to ends were bright blue. You'd helped him dye it, the reasoning why the bathroom sink was just barely stained with blue in the bowl.

He re-enters the room, his hair now damp, but un-styled. He sits on the bed beside you, allowing you to sit in silence with a pillow pressed against your face.

You slowly pull it away, looking up at him. You flop your back onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"What's up?" He asks, his eyes gazing upon your tired and stressed expression.

You shrug, sitting up. "I hate online school, I have essentially no friends or hobbies, my proctors are shoving thirty assignments on me while I'm depressed and I need to do a million fucking other things-"

He quickly pulls you into a hug, silencing you. You accept his hug, arms draped around his shoulders as you rest your head on one of his shoulders. He does the same for you, his arms slung around your torso instead.

You groan, hiding your face from the light.

He lightly rubs your back, just trying to show you some comfort.

He speaks up after a solid minute of silence, letting you calm yourself down. "Do you want to get into karate? Or at least meet my friends? A lot of them would really like to meet you"

You shrug, unsure.

"It's okay if you don't want to"

You shrug again, your words mumbled from between his shoulder. "What if they don't like me cause I'm not like them?"

He smiles, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Trust me, they're not gonna make fun of you or not like you in any way unless you give them a reason. And that in itself is pretty much impossible"

You nod, "Thanks"

"Is there any way I can help with your school stuff? What needs done? What can I do for you?"

"Calm down, Eli. I'll be fine. It's just when there's a lot on my mind, I stress out for no reason I guess. Like, I know everything'll be okay but... I dunno" You shrug, pulling away from his arms. "But thank you"

He nods, laying down on the bed beside you. "You tired? I am"

You nod with a smile, pulling him close to cuddle with him.

"Agh- your grip is insane!"

"Sorry"

[k-hotchoisan]

hello dearest 🥰

hard hours are open? so are my legs for this:

thoughts on writing a full story?

love you and your work, have a blessed new years ❤️

7 minutes of compensation

<seonghwa x fem!reader x yunho>

Coming back upset and disappointed at how your date turned out, Seonghwa and Yunho decide on a way to compensate you, in their own pretty little way.

Rating: R - explicit

Genres/Warnings: pwp, smut, 3some, oral (f receiving), riding, orgasms, fratboys!ateez, pet names, unprotected sex, face fucking, cream pies, dacryphilia, fingering, reader is a brat and it's deserved, pussy slapping (only once)

Word count: 3.6K

a/n: super late on this one, but this prompt was perfect for @atzhouse frat boys event <3 enjoy and indulge heavily 🩷 also thank you to my lovely @bro-atz for helping me develop the plot i could kiss u to death!!

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

You were gonna fucking kill them. The both of them. As much as you adored them as your roommates, you swear they fucking sucked at matchmaking, or either that, their fraternity has men that are less than subpar. 

Unfortunately for Yunho, he happened to be in the line of fire, and he got the heat first—meeting your cold gaze, then your sharp eye rolls which truthfully, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him until you blocked his path, arms folded tightly across your chest, your bottom lip sucked in from sheer annoyance, and even though Yunho pretty much towered over you, for once, you don’t feel small. 

“Is it a thing in your little groupie that none of y’all can even reach the bare minimum of being a man?” You spit, narrowing your eyes, tilting your head. 

Yunho scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not following, y/n”, he replies. Even though you know he’s being honest, unfortunately, he’s still part of the stupid fraternity, and technically he seconded introducing this poor excuse of a male to you.

“Where’s Park Seonghwa? Is he hiding from me because he fucking knew that son of a bitch was a sorry excuse of a man?” You grunt, attempting to push past Yunho, who quickly grabs you by the shoulders before you actually start acting on impulse and causing some property damage. It works. Barely.

“Hey, hey. Y/n, you need to tell me what happened before you decide to burn our dorm to the ground,” Yunho says, trying to meet your glacial eyes. God, Yuhno is so fucking lucky that he has a personality of a cotton ball because that’s what he could turn you into in an instant just with his gentle voice and soft demeanor. You kind of knew it wasn’t really his fault that the male he and Seonghwa introduced ended up being completely a piece of shit, but still. 

No. You weren’t about to falter at Yunho’s warm gaze and the way he’s leaning into you, his hands firm on your shoulders. Deep inside, you knew Yunho was the last person to be unreasonable. 

Your hard stare is slowly softening and the hostility is slowly dissolving much to your dismay, but you still hold your pout, now turning more cranky than mad.

You decide taking a deep breath to start your complaint would be the right way about it, especially since it helped with hiding your tears that were just threatening to fall. 

At that moment, Seonghwa emerges from his room, having heard the commotion from the common space, his face as clueless as Yunho’s. Yunho turns away from you, the grip on your shoulders lightening as he stands up straight to look at the older male. 

Seonghwa’s stare blank as he shuts his door, “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Now there the three of you were—on your bed, Seonghwa on your left, Yunho on your right, the both of them exchanging glances at each other, not wanting to break the silence or you’d end up breaking their necks. Your arms are still crossed, and your expression now a pout rather than some intention to commit murder within the dorm. You made them sit with each other in complete silence while you decided to take a shower to hopefully wash off the vexation, obviously to no avail. At least you smelled nice.

“The guy the both of you introduced”, you huff another deep breath, “not only fucking sucked in bed but tell me why none of you told me he was fucking someone else?” 

Another exchange of glances, this time with panic and confusion swirling in their eyes. You stand up and face them, your hands on your hips.

“We swear we didn’t know”, Seonghwa is the first to respond, his hands raised defensively. “He said he was interested in you, and we just…”

“Linked the both of you up, since you offhandedly mentioned that he was pretty cute”, Yunho continues. 

You smile, which doesn’t reach your eyes on top of dripping with anything but kindness or satisfaction, well, given the complete fuckery your stupid date put you through. You lean forward, stroking Seonghwa’s jaw, and for a moment, he seems entranced by your gaze, growing slightly breathless for a split second.

“Did you know who he was fucking?” You ask, and it comes off as a rhetorical pop quiz question, which both Seonghwa and Yunho knew better than even trying to guess, lest you have their heads in your arms by the time this is over. 

Seonghwa’s tongue slips out, wetting his plump lips out of nervousness. Sometimes you think Seonghwa looks absolutely delectable when he stares up at you with his doe eyes. You watch him shake his head. 

Then you let go of the poor man, leaving him to catch his breath on top of having the smell of your body soap almost shutting the rest of his senses down.

“His ex-girlfriend”, you spit, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. Both males had expressions that were equivalent to being a deer in headlights, which slightly cushioned your hostility because it seemed that they genuinely didn’t know about this. 

“I’m sorry to hear about that”, Yunho says, and there’s a glint of guilt in his eyes you barely catch. His hands reach out to yours, hoping to appease your anger slightly, and Seonghwa mirrors his reaction.

“Y/n, I’ll make sure he never contacts you ever, alright?” Seonghwa follows, his fingers gently stroking yours, making a mental note to bash his fraternity mate into the wall when he has the chance to. “Yunho and I will make sure of that.”

“I can’t believe he fucking fumbled a chance like that”, Yunho mutters. 

You remove your hands from the two males, crawling towards the headboard, letting your head rest on the endless amount of pillows, both Seonghwa and Yunho trailing you with their eyes, watching the way your shorts were riding dangerously up your thighs. 

“I want compensation, from the both of you”, you remark, your eyes darting to your phone screen, gradually getting distracted as your anger slowly dissipates. “On top of him being a piece of shit, he fucks like a loser. You have guys like that in your fraternity to represent how y’all fuck or what?” 

It takes less than a millisecond for Seonghwa’s gaze to darken, which you don’t notice until your phone gets snatched from your hands. You are about to part your lips to complain, that is, until you see the poison dripping from Seonghwa’s gaze. Before you can register it, a pair of arms lift you from below, and you’re facing Seonghwa, while being seated on Yunho’s lap. Yunho’s arms are wrapped around you, and you realise you’re trapped. 

“No, Angel. We don’t fuck like that piece of shit does”, Seonghwa corrects you, his voice calm and almost angelic, if it wasn’t for the fact that his tone is tinted with anything but. 

“We fuck better.”

“You shouldn’t lump us with guys like him, that hurts our feelings y’know”, Yunho chimes behind you, his voice tickling your ear. 

Seonghwa’s lips are inches away from yours, “Believe me, we’ll compensate you fully.”

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the tension in the air climbing up in levels at a rapid pace. Seonghwa doesn’t intend to give you the time to form your thoughts before his lips are on yours, gentle yet greedy, growing more possessive by the second, and you let yourself melt into his lips, his touch, his seduction. 

Soft moans escape your lips the more Seonghwa lets his tongue swipe yours and your lips. Fuck. Yunho’s fingers snake underneath your shirt, sending goosebumps all over your abdomen until he reaches your tits, and his fingers begin to roll your nipples against his fingertips as he alternates between squeezing your full tits, enjoying the whimpers you’re voicing while Seonghwa makes a mess out of your lips. Your mind is slowly slipping, and the next thing you’re feeling is the way your panties are getting soaked by the second. 

Seonghwa pulls back, licking away the string of saliva connecting both of your lips, watching your lips swollen and your face flush, with a smile on his face. 

Yunho’s hands leave your tits, and he brings up your shirt past your shoulders while Seonghwa pulls off your shorts, exposing the pretty wet patch on your panties. 

“Look at you, so pretty and wet for us”, Yunho hums, his hand reaching down past your panties, and you gasp at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles on your wet clit. He does it so painfully slow and you swear he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Yunho-“, you mutter breathlessly, your hands grabbing his muscled arm. Seonghwa pulls your panties to the side, revealing your soaking pussy, just begging to be filled up. Yunho shifts his hands from underneath your panties to where Seonghwa had pulled them to the side.

They weren’t about to let you have your way, at least not yet. 

“Now, are you taking back what you said about us fucking like losers?” Seonghwa asks, guiding Yunho’s fingers going back to circling between your clit and your sopping hole. You swear you were about to lose your fucking mind. 

You stare at Seonghwa, eyes slowly getting glazed out the more Yunho’s fingertips grazed along your clit. 

“No.”

Yunho’s hand makes impact on your cunt, making you gasp, your eyes blowing open from the shock that climbed along your spine, the sound wet and loud. 

“Wrong answer, dollface”, Yunho hisses into your ear, barely giving you a second to catch your breath before his fingers plunge into your cunt, your head falling back against his shoulders, a broken curse slipping past your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. You’ve just been thinking of this, haven’t you?” Yunho curses, feeling your soft walls squeeze against his fingers whenever his fingers enter you on top of the pretty squelching sounds your pussy was making for him. 

Yunho presses against your g-spot, and you jolt slightly, your legs spreading wider on instinct accompanied by another moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the two males.

Yunho’s suddenly fingers pull out and you’re ready to protest from the denial, until you feel something harder and thicker pressing against your spine. Shit. 

Seonghwa unlocks your phone and taps on the timer app, filtering through numbers before he shifts the screen to your view.

“We’ll make you cum in seven minutes as compensation, Angel”, Seonghwa promises. He looks so confident too. “If we don’t, then you can do whatever you want with us.”

“But if we do, you’ll take back your words, and we’ll do whatever we want with you, with your consent of course”, Yunho adds. 

Truthfully, the deal was a matter of pride rather than anything else, and you being sandwiched by your hot roommates on top of it? Just the cherry on top. 

“Fine”, you agree, and Yunho, tips your chin to face him, lowering himself to press his lips on yours before passing you over to Seonghwa, who also seals the deal with a kiss. 

“That’s a good girl”, Seonghwa hums, pressing his thumb against the corner of your lips. “Yunho should fuck you, right? Since he was the first person who caught your heat.” 

“But he’s-“

“It’ll fit, dollface. I’ve seen the dildos you fuck yourself with. My dick will fit you just perfectly”, Yunho cuts you off, leaving your heart to slam against your chest. 

Yunho lifts you up as he positions you right about his thick cock before he lowers you down, completely splitting you open as his cock fills you up all the fucking way, leaving your thoughts and sanity somewhere else by now. 

“How are you feeling, Angel?” Seonghwa even has the courtesy to fucking ask.  Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, both from pleasure and pressure. 

“So fuckin’ full. Fuck”, you mutter, your mind in a complete haze as you attempt to adjust to Yunho’s size. Seonghwa swallows hard at the way your pussy is just stretching to fit Yunho in plain sight before he starts the timer. 

Then he lowers himself to your filled cunt, and licks up your clit, making you jerk.

Oh boy, these two are definitely about to drive you crazy.

Your head falls onto Yunho’s shoulders as you try to pace your breathing, but with Seonghwa at your cunt lapping your cream while Yunho has your pussy filled? It seemed like an impossible mission. 

As Yunho fits into you, dragging against your walls and pressing dangerously close to your g-spot, Seonghwa’s slow and wet licks against your clit only stimulated and soaked you more to widen up to further fit in Yunho—now a complete cycle of hell of Seonghwa eating your pussy out making Yunho’s cock sit deeper in you which in turn made your clit all the more sensitive towards Seonghwa eating your cunt out. You were sure you wouldn’t last long at this rate. 

A quick glance at the timer—two minutes had passed, and yet it felt like an eternity from how much stimulation you were getting. Soon enough, you were confident that time wouldn’t even exist as a whole. 

Your body shudders in pleasure once more when Seonghwa licks another stripe up your cunt, trying to hold your composure, only for it to be broken down when Seonghwa’s wet lips suck on your clit, your mind blanking out from the sensation. 

“Such a good fucking girl for us, y/n”, Yunho’s gentle voice barely registering in your head. He glances at the timer. “Four more minutes for us to break you. You know it’s okay to just let go and ruin your bedsheets right? We’ll wash them for you.” Jesus fucking Christ.

The numbers on the timer on your phone continue to descend agonisingly slow and the looming, ticklish feeling of an orgasm is just threatening to spill over at any moment. Your mind begins to drift off, shrouded in the mist of pleasure, with Yunho, low moans as the icing on the cake whenever he feels your walls squeeze around you, his praises sounding like a hymn. 

Seonghwa switches between his tongue and fingers, the only denominator is him making sure to send you off the edge, casting his gorgeous eyes upwards to meet yours, watching your reactions like a hawk. The cream around the base of Yunho’s cock grows thicker every time he pulls out from your stretched hole.

At the sixth minute, you realise you are a lost cause—Seonghwa licking and grazing his fingertips against your wet clit while Yunho has his cock balls deep in you, hitting deep fucking spots in your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, you cry out, your eyes screwed shut, barely processing Yunho’s kisses down your neck as he stuffs you full once more. Seonghwa pulls back, licking your cream off his lips before they pull into a smirk, then making sure he overstimulates and sends your whole body into an orbit with his fingers on your clit. Stars scatter and burst into your eyelids, you barely were able to keep them open when your cum spurts out of you, alongside your cries about feeling so fucking good while you screamed both of Yunho's and Seonghwa’s names, diluting the cum from Yunho who fills you up warm seconds after. 

Both men watch you unravel in complete awe and adoration. They should have done this sooner if they knew your cunt would be this fucking good.

“Six minutes and fifteen seconds”, Seonghwa brings up your phone with a smile. “You did fare pretty well, Angel.”

He lifts you off Yunho’s cock, his cum trickling past your trembling inner thighs, and Yunho groans from the sensitivity, giving his wet cock a couple of pumps. You were not in any position to complain, not when your body is barely recovering from your high, because you’re on your stomach, facing Yunho’s thick cock, your eyes rolling back once more when you feel Seonghwa’s cock stretching you open once more. Your face buried in the sheets, your fist digging into the fabric, your ass automatically lifting to accommodate Seonghwa.

“Fuck. You’re still so fucking tight, Angel. Were you waiting for me to fuck you next? You’re just begging for me to fuck Yunho’s cum out of you, aren’t you?”

You could only muster a weak whine of Seonghwa’s name before Yunho’s cock gently taps on your cheek. You look up at Yunho, your eyes completely glazed out, realising your mouth suddenly feeling very empty.

As Seonghwa slides his cock out of you, your phone suddenly lights up, the vibration catching both boys’ attention. Yunho glances over and cocks an eyebrow when he sees the caller ID flash across the screen. He looks over at Seonghwa who catches his eye, then nods to his older friend to pick up the call. Seonghwa reaches over, even as he’s still fucking his cock in you, and slides answer.

“Hey.”

“Hello? Seonghwa Hyung? Isn’t this y/n’s phone?”

Seonghwa glances down at you, ass still bouncing off his fat cock while taking Yunho’s cock in your mouth, your body twitching from time to time on top trying to fit Yunho in your mouth. 

“Y/n’s not available right now. She’s a little…preoccupied.”

There’s a pause for a moment. 

“O-oh. ‘Cause I was meaning to talk to her about the ex-girlfriend thing and-“

“H-Hwa”, you whimper, feeling your brain short-circuiting every time his hips snap against yours, feeling your brain up with nothing but just cock. Seonghwa returns your look with nothing less than affection before he bothers to focus back on his friend’s endless amount of excuses for acting like a piece of shit.

“You don’t need to anymore, dude.”

“What? Wait I don’t-“

Seonghwa smirks into the phone. “She’s not interested anymore—Ah fuck, that’s it Angel.”

“What the fuck is going on there?!”

Seonghwa only chuckles in reply, hitting the loudspeaker for Yunho to reply him, “Don’t worry about y/n, she’s well taken care of. Better than however the fuck you did, that’s for sure.” Yunho strokes your jaw, encouraging you to fit more of him in your mouth, biting back a curse when look up at him with doe eyes, spit and precum just coating his cock every time you bob your head.

“We definitely need a little talk when we see you. Until then, maybe learn to fuck better”, Seonghwa adds, before disconnecting the line, ignoring the sudden myriad of messages barging and spamming your inbox from said male. Well, you were busy. 

Seonghwa’s attention snaps back to you once more when he feels your cunt squeeze around him, and the way your pussy is just endlessly creaming on his cock is just driving Seonghwa closer to his high, partnered with the obscene sounds bouncing off the walls he knew his fraternity brother definitely heard.  

“That’s a good fucking girl. You’re doing so well for me. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. So fucking close, Angel”, Seonghwa hisses, his thrusts becoming more erratic, cock mindlessly hitting deeper spots of your poor cunt before he feels you completely let go and cum right on his cock as well, his warm cum filling up your cunt.

Yunho isn’t faring any better, his eyes are glazed out at the way your throat is closing around his cock every time he slips it in, and when your eyes roll back with your mouth covering the entirety of his cock, clenching him again at the back of your throat, Yunho can’t help but cum down your tight pretty throat with a strangled groan, along with praises of you taking his cock like his good little girl, and how you’re taking all of his cum so well, which only makes your mind buzz with pleasure on top of both of your holes being filled up. 

Yunho jerks back slightly on instinct from the overstimulation, before his hands cup your jaw to assist you pull out. Cum dribbles down the corner of your lips from your futile attempt to swallow it all, but Yunho simply grabs a handful of tissues for you to spit in should you need to. Then his lips press onto your forehead, his voice like honey in your ears as he praises you for taking him and Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa on the other hand, had pulled out of you, swallowing hard as his cum mixed with Yunho’s seeps past your folds, dripping onto his half hard cock. Seonghwa thinks he could go another round, but not now. The thought of ruining your pussy over and over again is definitely the most enticing to him,   but he makes mental note to delete and block the twat’s number on your phone while you go wash up. 

The exhaustion is slowly kicking into your body, considering you’ve never been fucked this good, but Yunho insists to wash you up before you rest in either one of their rooms, which you don’t put up much of a fight against, considering the state of you right now. 

Yunho, slightly displeased that Seonghwa insisted on snuggling on his bed as well, the three of you sharing Yunho’s bed, with you in the middle. As Seonghwa combs through your hair with his fingers, you suddenly remember the phone call. 

You look up to both of them and ask, “Who called just now?” Evidently, you were so deep into your pleasure that who called didn’t even register in your mind, the faint memory of the dull vibration of your phone being the only thing you recall. 

Yunho and Seonghwa exchange glances before their eyes shoot back to you. Yunho forces a smile and Seonghwa continues to stroke your head, slowly lulling you into an exhausted slumber. 

“No one important. Someone we can thank for being able to compensate you, darling”, are the last words you barely process before you fall asleep in their arms.