#they are the standard of I don’t have a love like this two I don’t want it

[erwinsvow]

introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth. 

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter. 

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing. 

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.

[luminiamore]

plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar? 

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn’t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven��t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

[fuckaperioddrama]

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

Warnings: Toxic!Draco | Bullying | Mentions of Rough Sex, BDSM, Choking, Worship/Praise Kink | Oral (F Receiving) | Mentions of Drugs and Alcohol | Let me know if I missed something.

Fem!Reader

Author's Note: I've got a love-hate relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Proofread, but might have mistakes.

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcanons

Blaise Zabini Headcanons

Tom Riddle Headcanons

Masterlist

Minors DNI | 18+

Draco Malfoy | Physique

5’11 | I don’t see him as being super tall.

Draco is more on the lanky side.

Working out? Physical labor? Absolutely not. | He plays quidditch for the attention. Genuinely hates sweating like ew. 

Resting bitch face. THE WORST resting bitch face. He looks like such a bitch, I can’t stress this enough. 

SO UNAPPROACHABLE 

But he is really pretty. | I know I say this for pretty much all of them, but that’s how you HAVE to describe Draco

Draco is pretty and no one can argue with me on this. 

Draco Malfoy | Personality

Dick

Genuinely awful to almost everyone

He’s a powerful person and he likes to let that be known. Always looks down on people who don’t share his status

He and Lorenzo have that same frustrating energy in very similar ways. 

Lorenzo is frustrating because he tries to pretend he’s not actually the worst.

Draco is frustrating because he just has so much audacity

“Hey, nice shirt.”

“Oh, thanks! I actu-”

“I’m kidding, that’s the ugliest fucking shirt I’ve seen in my entire life. Did you actually think I was serious? Where did you get that? The dump? Merlin, you look AWFUL! I can’t believe you left the house looking like th-”

| Regina George energy |

Was that necessary? No, but Draco doesn’t care. He hurt your feelings? OH WELL

He WILL laugh in the face of anyone who cries in front of him because why are you acting so pitiful?

Sure he just pointed out your deepest and most shameful insecurity, but geez pull yourself together.

He likes to remind everyone that no matter how hard they try they will never be him.

Because he’s Draco mother fucking Malfoy. | Duh.

FLAUNTS

Doesn’t know what humble means. If has it, he’s displaying it it.

Projects his insecurities onto others.

He treats others so poorly because that's how he treats himself. He is his own worst critic and he feels a lot of pressure from other influences in his life too.

Uptight. High Standards that everyone must meet.

Draco can still loosen upthough. He enjoys a good party.

Prefers to host so that he can control the guest list.

Whenever he doesn’t host he’ll complain the whole time because that guy would have never been let into one of his parties.

Draco smokes and drinks but it’s 50/50 on how messed up he gets

If he’s out with just Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo then he’s pretty sober because who knows what he’ll get into with those three.

If Tom or Blaise are there then he’ll go a little crazy because he knows those two won’t let anything too bad happen. | Mostly Blaise. Tom will only intervene if it’s for his benefit.

Draco Malfoy | Casanova

Draco is someone else I can see who targets other people's girlfriends

Whereas Theo does it only if their boyfriend pissed him off, Draco does it merely because he can.

Generally, Draco is very dominant in a toxic Alpha Male kinda way

He likes to go all out. Takes them on dates, wine and dine, fanciest restaurants, fanciest cars, just the whole nine.

He doesn't want them to talk much unless it’s to compliment him. He’s not so much doing the grand gestures to impress women. He’s mainly doing it to flex on other men.

He still cares in some way though because uhh

After the date, he takes them back to his room, and AHH

SO GOOD

He thrives off of pleasing his partner. If he can make a girl scream his name even ONCE he is walking around the next day like he is a GOD. | More so than usual.

Loves giving and he would never tell anyone to do this, but if you throw in some praise? One crumb of praise?? FERAL

He goes into overdrive. They thought he was good before, but if they praise him next thing they know their legs are shaking and they’re cramping so bad because they just can’t take anymore but it feels so fucking good so they will take it all with no complaints

Quite the reputation in bed.

Overstimulation, bondage, choking, anything to give him the control he wants.

But then he has someone extra special for the lack of control he needs. | I feel like this person is Pansy, but that’s a whole other story.

Draco wants to be a sub SO BAD, but he will only let those he trusts see that side of him.

One girl, MAYBE TWO! MAYBE

But even having one person who knows that side of him exists makes him so anxious so he will probably only stick to that one person.

Draco likes to talk about every single girl he fucks and he brags about his encounters regularly.

But he’s taking his secret Dom to the grave and he will gaslight the shit out of everyone if he is ever exposed. He REFUSES to let people know that side of him exists.

Draco Malfoy | Friend

Closest to Mattheo and Blaise | I KNOW PEOPLE DON’T PUT HIM IN MATTHEO TOGETHER HER! I EXPLAIN IT A LITTLE BIT IN MY MATTHEO HC BUT IT MAKES SENSE!

Draco is a good friend

He’s such a sweet guy once he gets comfortable around someone.

So supportive!! | Lucius and Narcissa loved to cheer for their baby boy so that’s how he treats his friends.

As long as it makes him look good!

If someone is playing a game with him and they’re on the opposite team then he is spending every second praying for their downfall

But if his friend is on the same team as him then he becomes so proud every time they do something right.

Look at his bestie out there showing everyone their skills and helping him win. | Go bestie!

Outside of his selfish nature, he doesn’t like to see his friends fail.

He gets really unhappy when he feels like he’s failed at something and so he projects those feelings onto others and in turn that makes him want to help his friends succeed.

He thinks if they don’t then they’ll feel the way about themselves that he feels about himself.

He will always make sure his friends have their notes, they’re in class, they’re eating, they’re studying, etc.

And if they’re doing any sort of presentation, performance, whatever he will be in the crowd like the proud parent he is.

Does not share.

If Blaise asks to use his Dior cologne he is absolutely saying no because he doesn’t want to waste any of it. | Only child behavior. No offense.

But he’ll go out the next day and buy Blaise his own.

“Here,” as he drops the box in front of him.

“Is this?”

“You said you wanted to try it,” he shrugs

“You didn’t have to buy me a bottle! You could have just let me use yours.”

“And why would I do that?”

Draco Malfoy | Boyfriend

He's so obvious when he's in love.

He genuinely treats you like you're some sort of a goddess.

Draco would not let you do anything.

He won’t do it for you, but he’ll find someone who will.

“Draco, why is Mattheo on a rampage in the library? I was walking by and heard Pince screaming at him.”

“I told him if he found that book you needed for your test I’d take him to the concert next weekend.”

“But you promised me I could go!”

“You are going.”

“Then why-“

“Shhhhhh”

You will always be his number one priority. Acts of Service

Draco will basically upgrade your life.

Does your water bottle leak sometimes? He’s already bought you a new one.

He presents you with gifts, but if it’s a replacement he usually switches them out and will tell you later.

You would need to communicate when something is sentimental because otherwise, he’s throwing it out for a new one

Door creaks? New door. The drawer won’t open properly? New dresser. Woke up with a sore back? New mattress.

He just bought the items, someone else replaced them.

Eventually, he’ll start doing some services himself too.

At first, it seems beneath him, but once he’s all in he doesn’t even have to think about it.

Puts his jacket on the ground because you want to sit and enjoy nature and he won’t let you get your outfit dirty

Will make sure to loosen up any skincare, food jars, or whatever he knows you regularly use so that you don’t have to waste time seeking him out to do it.

He knows when you’ll use them and gives himself time in his schedule to loosen them just before you need them.

Will not let you stress over anything.

The second you mention you have more than three things to do that day he’s already rejecting the idea.

“Oh, absolutely not. That’s way too much. I’ll have someone do that for you.”

He’s not letting you work. You’re too good to work.

A life of luxury, baby. Gift Giving

DRACO EXCELS IN THIS CATEGORY

You guys don’t even need to be dating for that long. On your third date, he shows up with a Birkin bag

His parents bought his love and that’s how he would treat his partner as well.

He would not let you pay for anything.

Same mentality as Theo where he just thinks it would make him look bad if you ever did pay for anything so it’s not happening. It doesn’t matter if you actually want to pay.

Why would Draco Malfoy let anyone pay for him? That’s so embarrassing.

Elevates your wardrobe. He wants to coordinate. Not so much matching outfits but if he’s wearing all black then you’re wearing all black.

Will be very controlling with this kind of stuff. He wants you to always fit his aesthetic. If he’s not wearing sweatpants then neither are you.

Why should you dress comfortably when he bought you 10 different dresses just in the last hour?

New shoes, makeup, nails, hair

Paying for your facial because his girl needs to relax.

And he’s in the chair next to you because all of those looks of disdain he gives out on the daily are giving him wrinkles. | Skincare King.

And to make sure his girl gets the best treatment

You deserve it all and he will show you that and tell you that every single day.

Little off-track Draco rant moment coming up.

I feel like when you first start dating Draco he will be a little judgmental and controlling. Like with what I mentioned about him wanting you to have a specific aesthetic

But when he falls in LOVE

He has this full-body reaction to every single thing you do.

You wake up in the morning your hair a mess, boob hanging out, crust all up in your eyes and he just looks at you and his stomach gets this queasy yet dull feeling and his mind is zeroed in on you. It’s like someone literally went into his brain and fully erased every single thought that wasn’t centered around you.

He feels the hairs raise around his body and he gets this rush of adrenaline from being both excited and so nervous because how the fuck is the most beautiful person in the world in his bed right now?

But the main thing he notices is his heart. This ache takes over his chest as he’s so overwhelmed with how much he loves you.

And to get it all out he HAS to tell you every single day. All day.

Words of Affirmation

Dating Draco means you have to be comfortable with compliments because he positively will not stop.

“The way this light is hitting you makes you look amazing.”

“I swear you’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

It doesn't matter if you're eating, studying, or talking to your friend or professor he will always find the right moment to lean forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he tells you how beautiful you are.

Once more, when Draco is in love with you, for lack of a better word, he becomes the utmost simp.

Did you pass your exams? Just barely pass them?

“You’re so impressive. You’re so smart, I can’t believe I’m dating you. I’m so lucky.”

Style your hair differently?

“You’re so creative. How do you come up with this stuff? That’s amazing, you look so good.”

Cook eggs? The most basic meal ever or even if you don’t cook and just order out

“You always know exactly what I need. I’m so thankful for you. You always take such good care of me. I appreciate you so much.”

He doesn’t care how cringey he sounds. His girl is a goddess and she deserves to be worshipped. Both with words and with Physical Touch

Draco loves to touch you, but he’s not fully comfortable with PDA.

He was raised in a household where those things weren’t proper to display in front of others.

All of his PDA is very subtle. Your hands rest next to each other as you’re sitting down and he has two fingers gently rested atop of yours.

Standing next to each other somewhere and he has his hand gripping the back of your arm. Kind of his way of showing everyone who you belong. And also reminding you that he’s there. Just so you don’t forget about your lovely boyfriend.

When you’re with friends and the air is more relaxed he’ll keep an arm around your shoulder and softly play with your earlobe.

It’s all very subtle. Then when you’re in private he becomes so annoying

He needs physical touch and he needs it NOW

After class every day he needs at least a 20-minute cuddle session. 20 minutes and no less. He will build his entire schedule around this and will bitch out anyone who ruins his time with you.

He prefers to be the little spoon and he likes to rest his head very nicely upon your boobs

Back rubs are mandatory. You need to rub his back as soon as he lays down.

Playing with his hair isn’t a necessity, but it’s preferred.

However, if you are playing with his hair then you need to commit. Don’t just run your fingers through it once and call it a day.

“Baby, please. I can’t deal with this today. I’ve already had so many things go wrong, if you take your hand away from my head again I will frankly have a nervous breakdown.”

“Draco, calm down. It’s not tha-“

“PLEASE!”

He takes the Quality Time he gets with you very seriously.

Draco can be busy, he’s not that partner who is around you 24/7 but when he is with you he is fully devoted.

Anything that might distract him is getting pushed to the side and he is 100% yours.

Do you want to watch the same movie for the 6th time in two weeks? Fully invested. He knows every line. Even if he hates it he will never act like he’s uninterested or bored.

If it’s important to you then it’s important to him.

You want to rant about how that one person pissed you off again? All ears.

Do you simply want someone to go with you to the store, for a walk, or just do the most random thing? Of course, he will come. If you need him to do something? Great, he’ll help. Do you just want company? He will gladly be a figure in the background you can talk to when you want to.

Draco will never let you believe for a second he isn’t absolutely in love with you. His love is filled with such enthusiasm and care that it’s easy to see how much he wants you in his life

And in his bed | ;)

Draco Malfoy | Committed Lover

Remember when I said Draco likes to worship you?

IT IS BECAUSE HE HAS A WORSHIP KINK

He doesn’t like to be rushed during sex. You are the most ethereal being he has ever seen and he needs to take his time with you.

He has every detail of your body memorized because he loves to look at, feel, and taste every morsel of you.

Sprawled out against his bed, frustrated and desperate because Draco has spent the last 45 minutes kissing almost your entire body, purposely leaving out the spot you need him at most.

He may take 45 minutes to an hour just focusing on the rest of your body, but he saves your breathtaking cunt for last because he has to dedicate at least three hours to that

Munch.

It’s concerning how often Draco eats you out. If you let him I’m sure he would do it at least four-five times a day. On his knees with his tongue swiftly moving over your sensitive bud while he looks up at you in awe because you just look so pretty when you cry for him.

Draco would have a hard time teasing you or withholding anything.

It’s like he goes into a trance.

Cock being sucked into your achy cunt, squeezing him so tight he feels like he can’t breathe

And then your lashes flutter and your mouth parts and he just stares at you mindlessly as he continues to drill himself into you.

You’re so pretty he can hardly focus.

Draco is adaptable. He’s a switch, but he prefers to be a sub.

It’s when his worship kink and praise kink come out the most. He wants to worship you but he would like it if you praised him in the process for being such a good boy.

On his knees staring up at you as he runs his tongue from the top of your ankle all the way to the end of your hip.

You’re sitting down as Draco rests his head against your lap-begging, pleading for you to bounce on his cock and use him like the good little toy he is.

And you do.

Draco does so much for you. He would lay the world at your feet. It’s only fair that he gets a little treat.

————

hehehehehe

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / football / 768 words / @bellaxisworld i love you

--- here's a little kiss cam brainrot <3

"But I hate football, you know this," Regulus reiterated to a very persistent Remus over the phone.

“I know, but Sirius can’t make it and he doesn’t want the tickets to go to waste. It’s just one game,” Remus remarked with a hint of something that Regulus couldn’t quite place. 

That’s how he ended up at a Saturday sports match, hoping the players were hot; at least he would be entertained that way. He approached his seats and yelled Remus’ name, but someone else turned around: James.

“Reg? Why are you here? I thought I was meeting Siriu-” Regulus interrupted him, only a Potter could manage to insult him as he was greeting him.

“Nice to see you too James, well I thought I was meeting Remus. So you were also not who I expected to see.”

Before James could give a proper response, they both got a notification on their phone. Regulus looked at his screen to read Remus' quick text: Sorry, can’t make it. Have fun.

“I’m going to kill him,” Regulus mumbled. 

“Sirius just canceled on me. I’m guessing you got stood up too?” James asked kindly, but only received a mean glance in response.

In silence, they took their seats. Regulus was beyond pissed. How could Remus do this to him? He thought for a second that they might’ve been set up, but he thought this ruse was a bit dramatic even for Sirius’ standards.

“Do you like football?” James asked, breaking the silence.

“Detest it,” Regulus replied tersely, still too upset to entertain James’ attempt at conversation. When his brother’s best friend asked if he wanted anything to drink, he simply declined in a polite and quick manner.

But when James returned with his favorite treats and a wide smile to his seat, he couldn’t remember what he was upset about. Regulus felt a discreet blush work its way towards his cheeks as James handed him his favorite candy.

“Sirius mentioned you liked this, so I figured that if you were stuck with me and in a place you don’t want to be, you might as well get a sweet treat, no?” James said casually, as if remembering someone’s favorite candy was nothing.

To Regulus, it was such a significant gesture, but he couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic by how such a simple token could make him feel so warm. If he was honest, maybe it had more to do with who was giving him that attention than the piece of candy itself, but that was not the time to process that.

The game continued, and to Regulus's surprise, he found himself having more fun than he had expected. While Remus would have been good company, James was captivating in his own way. Despite not being a fan of football, Regulus made an effort to stay informed about the current games. A fact that he deliberately kept from James as the other man’s eyes lit up explaining everything. He never expected to be so absorbed in James’ words or thoughts or lips or eyes or arms or smile...

 Oh god, when did James Potter become so attractive?

“Regulus?” His name coming out James’ lips took him out his trace.

“Yes?”

"Kiss cam," James said, pointing at the screen in front of them. There they were, the two of them, with a crowd surrounding them, chanting for them to just kiss. Regulus felt as if seconds extended into hours as James's hand gently cupped his chin, his eyes silently asking for permission. An inaudible yes left Regulus's lips as the distance between them evaporated.

His hand instinctively reached for James' shirt, pulling him closer as if their lips touching was still too far a distance to bridge. He allowed himself this moment, the touch of an angel on a broken man. Every crevice of doubt within him was filled with warmth as James kept asking for more with his tongue. James parted slightly, and the absence of his lips made Regulus remember himself. Embarrassed, he started to pull away, but James held him tightly, his hands not leaving Regulus' face.

Regulus bravely opened his eyes to face the regret that was sure to be all over James’ face, but instead he found something else— something sweet and soft, something only honey eyes like James’ could convey. He was still light-headed from James’ touch, he couldn’t make sense of just how long he had been given access to heaven. 

But the reality remained: he had just kissed James Potter, who seemed just as delighted to have kissed Regulus Black.

Maybe football wasn’t that bad.

more microfics here

[merakiui]

MERAAA it’s phantom anon here (・ω・)ノ

lemme just tell you- i’ve been rereading your old works and they never. stop. hitting.

but RABU JADE??!?? OH BROTHER

*pulls up a chair and sits down unceremoniously*

he hasn’t left my mind ever since i’ve read it. he’s quite literally- a leech.

i’ve been thinking of how poor ol’ reader is gonna get out of the predicament they’re currently facing.

(which i will send another ask about cause oh my god the rot in my brain- it’s festering i tell ya)

i def think that jade had some kind of sick pleasure knowing that he was boiling fingers and the like while reader was right. there.

seconds away from checking the pot. inches away from the last remains of the restaurants last dine-&-dash victim

he could have you find out anytime he likes, ‘darling mind stirring the pot for me?’ ‘darling could you help drain the broth from the pot?’ ‘honey how would you like to help me prep for the day- there’s a bag in the freezer i need you to get’

i can see him biting his lip in some, perverse pleasure, as he watches reader scurry around the kitchen doing her thang. checking the pot right next to his. his breathe hitched when you’re about to unmask his… secret.

but with a little ‘whoops’ and a giggle of ‘wrong pot,’ jade’s heart beats a little faster, his teeth clamps a little harder, a bead of blood on his lip as he has to excuse himself.

i think he lays awake in bed some nights, holding reader tightly as he lets his mind wander. how would reader react? would you get nauseous? would you faint? would you yell at him: if so in despair or anger? would you try calling the cops? would you try calling floyd?- his arms get a little tighter at the thought of you in his twin’s arms.

would you try to convince him you didn’t see anything? would you flinch if he tried touching you.

all these scenarios racing through his head- would you help him?

ahhh maybe he gets so shy thinking about the two of you cooking… with love. yes you do it already but this is a different kind of intimacy 🙈

but i also don’t think he was ready for the day to actually come- much rather fantasize about your reactions. because they’re just that- fantasizes

after all, every couple has their secrets. and a bit of mystery always spices up things a bit 🙈

so jade seeing reader as stiff as a brick while in front of his pot had a different kind of thumping in his chest.

(imagine reader trying to distract him with the pregnancy test they tried slipping in the pot HHAHAXHAHA- don’t reader put it in a 2 sealed plastic baggys cause they have a 3 star standard to uphold!!)

YAY!!

ALSO I JDUT SAW ANGELS OF TOBET GOT POSTED SO LEMME JUST SCURRY OVER TO THERE😸😸

Phantom anon, hi hiii!! ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Oh, RABU Jade...... he really does have all sorts of twisted fantasies. >_< you have no other choice but to continue loving him, for he's your darling husband. But the fingers in the pot and Jade's secret are second to the biggest news: your pregnancy!!! <3 aaaa Jade's just so happy. Maybe he promises not to harvest anymore special ingredients so it won't stress you and the baby out. But if you find yourself craving that yummy bone broth with its dubious ingredients, who is he to deny you?

You're definitely going to have to reevaluate your husband after discovering this hidden side. ^^;;; confiding in someone else is dangerous because you have no idea what he might do to them, especially if that person is Detective Ashengrotto. ;;;;; maybe Floyd might have some advice.... :)

AAAAAA OTL I just love RABU Jade!! He's so devious.

[dykedvonte]

Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.

It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.

[goldkirk]

.

[btsbs]

.

[couldbebetterforsure]

What on earth are the other routes of Jack Jeanne like??? Because I had seen so many comments and reviews say this game is super light on the romance and all that…

But I’m going through Suzu’s route and it’s literally so fucking romantic??????????

I’m over here acting like a damn blushing maiden watching Kisa and Suzu interact over the course of the whole game, and that’s only ramped up now that I’m out of the common route and into Suzu’s specific route!

[ovipositer]

never ask a man his salary a woman her age or a discord mod what age he and his girlfriend were when they first started “talking”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[shoemakerobstetrician]

The Importance of Good Omens to an Old Queer

There are so many things about the whole Good Omens experience that make an old queer very happy:

In the story:

- It’s about a couple who love each other, who are by social standards definitely not supposed to love each other.

We exist.

- They have loved each other since time began.

We have always existed.

- They needed to hide their love, even from themselves, for millennia, or risk death.

We hid.

- They come to a safe spot where they can acknowledge their love without fearing for their lives. They can expect to be treated like any other couple.

We don’t always need to hide now.

In the story of the story:

- The book was written in the’80’s, when Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship simply could not be told as a love story if the goal was to have any real chance of popular success.

- It took almost 30 years for it to be adapted for the screen and in that time things had changed so much that it is unequivocably a love story, with huge popular success.

In reality:

- The authors and the actors are outspoken supporters of LGBTQ+ rights.

- Michael and David clearly utterly adore each other, and freely show it. A few decades ago such open affection between two men would have caused rumors that could have ended their careers.

Finally, and this one kills me and makes me so, so happy:

- There are MANY younger fans for whom a lot of the above will absolutely not hit as hard.

They grew up in a different world than I did.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum. 

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home. 

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers. 

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says. 

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say. 

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees. 

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.” 

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo? 

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer. 

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.” 

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure. 

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble. 

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.” 

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses. 

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious. 

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.” 

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill. 

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear. 

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles. 

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes. 

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly. 

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules. 

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells. 

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes. 

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you. 

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll. 

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either. 

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything. 

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve. 

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters. 

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out. 

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you. 

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs. 

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine. 

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy. 

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal. 

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter. 

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel. 

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply. 

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too. 

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now. 

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns. 

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back. 

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs. 

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire. 

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits. 

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust. 

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses. 

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg. 

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more. 

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over. 

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high. 

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,”  you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers. 

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone. 

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh. 

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.” 

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say. 

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?” 

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time. 

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says. 

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place. 

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page. 

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around. 

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started. 

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment. 

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?” 

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear. 

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand. 

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.” 

“Of course not,” he says. 

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed. 

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you. 

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked. 

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble. 

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan. 

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out. 

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. 

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night. 

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.” 

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says. 

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says. 

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited. 

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird. 

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts. 

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?” 

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?” 

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.” 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.” 

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure. 

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings. 

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness. 

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake. 

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep. 

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says. 

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him. 

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge. 

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.” 

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply. 

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits. 

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.” 

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks. 

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation. 

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him. 

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit. 

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous. 

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug. 

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?” 

“I don’t know, a while,” he says. 

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.” 

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.” 

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool. 

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment. 

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.” 

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.” 

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural. 

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!

Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:

I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?

Sir,

You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.

Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.

But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.