#was scrolling on her phone through the first ten minutes of the show

[palmtreepalmtree]

Last night at the theater a woman a few rows back answered a phone call in the middle of the show and started talking in a totally normal voice. When the people around her asked her to put her phone away and be quiet, she told them to 'fuck off' and that she'll do what she wants. All of this was loud enough for practically the entire section to be disrupted.

She and her companion were escorted out at intermission to applause.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗟

　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris misplace his priorities.

WARNING: Fighting, crying, cursing. ANGST with a happy ending.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched Chris frantically scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her. The silence in the living room echoed the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks, the memory of the previous day's event still fresh in Y/N's mind.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N sighed contentedly as she set the dark wooden table carefully, placing the plates and cutlery impeccably. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing Chris's favorite dish, with fresh ingredients, for the romantic dinner they had planned to have after the triplets recorded the video that would be posted next Friday. Everything was perfect, except for the emptiness that began to settle in her chest as the hours passed and Chris didn't appear.

At eight sharp, Y/N sat at the table, her heart filled with anticipation and anxiety. She watched the stairs leading to the front door with every sound she heard, willing him to come. But as the minutes dragged on, anxiety turned to despair.

Nine o'clock passed, and Y/N was still sitting alone at the table, her stomach churning with hunger and worry and her eyes staring into space, small tears burning her cornea. She tried calling Chris several times, but every call went to voicemail, as well as her messages going unread.

At ten o'clock, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Thick tears began to stream down her face as she looked at the still untouched plate in front of her. The romantic dinner she had so lovingly prepared now seemed like a cruel reminder of her dashed hope.

With a choked sob, Y/N got up from the table, feeling completely desolate, her belly hurting from the weight and sobs that made her body shake. She carefully put the food away in the fridge, her hands shaking with disappointment.

That night, Y/N fell asleep in her boyfriend's room with a heavy heart and eyes swollen with tears, wondering if she would ever have the courage to take some initiative, before it was too late.

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Y/N was standing in front of the cinema, her heart full of expectation as she held a bucket of popcorn in her hands. She looked from side to side nervously, trying to spot Chris among the crowds rushing along the sidewalk. Time was running out, and her nervousness increased as the clock on her phone showed just ten minutes until the start of the movie, and her boyfriend still hadn't appeared.

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, Y/N's phone vibrated, indicating a new message. She grabbed the device anxiously, hoping to see an apology or explanation from Chris for the delay. But what she heard was something that made her shake with rage.

"Hi, baby." Chris’s voice sounded through the voicemail, but instead of an apology, there was a note of indifference in his words. "I know we planned to go to the movies today, but a last-minute party came up that I really need to go to. Do you remember Tara Yummy? It's hers! Well, I'm sorry for canceling like that at the last minute. Maybe we can meet up later, okay? Bye."

Y/N felt her world collapse upon hearing those words. Chris's betrayal, his indifference to her feelings as he sent her the message just to break her as if it was some kind of promise, cut like a sharp knife. She clutched her phone tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Anger and sadness consumed her, bubbling inside her chest like a volcano about to erupt. With a cry of frustration, Y/N threw the bucket of popcorn and the tickets into the nearest trash bin, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she felt suffocated by disappointment and pain.

And that night, Y/N walked away from the cinema, her heart broken and her confidence destroyed.

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"Chris." She began, shaking her head gently to shake the memories away, her voice trembling with the anguish she carried. "We need to talk."

Chris looked up from his phone for a moment, his tired eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the bright screen in his hands.

"Not now, Y/N. I'm busy."

Those words hit Y/N like a punch in the stomach. She felt increasingly isolated and neglected, while Chris's world revolved around his career and his influential friends.

"You're always busy, Chris." Y/N murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There's never time for us."

Chris sighed, irritation rising across his skin like a shiver. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up at the girl again, giving her a look full of hatred, which she had never seen before.

"I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that. I can't just ignore my work to pay attention to you."

"I'm not asking you to ignore it." Y/N snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "I'm just asking for a little time for us. For our relationship. Yesterday you-"

Chris shook his head quickly, interrupting her, the traces of frustration deepening on his face.

"I already said I'm sorry! You always do this, Y/N. You're always trying to change who I am and what I do. You always try to change my priorities, like my world has to revolve around you. That's not how things work!"

Those words cut Y/N like a sharp blade, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wasn't trying to change him. She just wanted to feel like he cared about her as much as he cared about his fame, but instead, he made her feel like a random crumpled up piece of paper.

"I just want you to include me in your life." Y/N whispered, her voice shaking with pain as her eyes blinked repeatedly, her eyelashes slowly becoming wet with tiny droplets from tears. "But it always seems like there's something more important."

Chris snorted, throwing the phone roughly onto his lap and turning abruptly to face her, an expression of disdain filling his eyes.

"You know what? Maybe it would be better if you took some time to think about what you really want, because it seems to me that everything I do isn't enough, and if you're not genuinely happy in this relationship, maybe you should evaluate your preferences!"

Chris' words echoed in Y/N's mind, leaving her stunned. She felt as if she had been hit by a train of conflicting emotions.

With a lump in her throat, the girl stood up from the couch abruptly, her legs shaking under the weight of her grief as her chest burned intensely, anguish gnawing at her insides.

"Maybe you're right." Y/N muttered, shrugging, her voice cracking with pain. "Maybe I need some time to figure out what I really want... Right?"

Chris watched in silence as Y/N walked away, her tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks, her lips pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.

The brunette frowned, watching his girlfriend's wet cheeks against the cool light of the room, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten, begging to call her back, and apologize, but the words seemed to get stuck.

And so, Y/N left the triplets house that night, taking with her a broken heart and a soul full of uncertainty about the future of their relationship.

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The frigid night air bit into Chris' skin as he walked through the empty streets of LA, his body shaking not only from the cold but also from the anxiety and remorse that consumed him. He couldn't bear another night without Y/N by his side, without feeling her comforting touch and hearing her soft laugh filling the silence.

His steps were heavy and slow, each carrying the weight of days of loneliness and regret that piled up on his shoulders. The memory of Y/N's desolate and disappointed face haunted his thoughts, an image that haunted him incessantly, preventing him from finding peace even at bedtime.

Chris knew he had done wrong, that he had hurt the person he loved most in the world with his negligence and misplaced priorities. He blamed himself for his actions, for putting his work and his friends before her, for leaving her alone and helpless at times when she needed him most, or just wanted his company and love.

The mere memory of coming home on Thursday before everything fell apart, and finally seeing all the lost messages from his girl, along with a plate full of his favorite food neatly packed in the fridge made his heart ache as if human hands were squeezing it.

As he made his way through the deserted streets, the silence of the night was deafening, a cruel metaphor for the loneliness he had caused himself. Each step brought him closer to the home that had once been his refuge, the place where he found comfort in Y/N's arms and where he hoped he could right the wrongs he had done.

Finally, the brunette arrived at the door of the small, simple house, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he hesitated to ring the doorbell. He knew he didn't deserve Y/N's forgiveness, that his empty words and broken promises couldn't erase the pain he caused.

But he had to try. He had to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in this world, and that he would do anything to have her back by his side.

With a shaky sigh, Chris finally pressed the doorbell and waited, his heart hammering in his chest as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in an act of nervousness, the cold of the night penetrating his bones.

On the other side of the door, Y/N hesitated, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gather the courage to face the stranger that was there. The last few days had been a storm of sadness and loneliness, her mind spinning in circles of anguish as she struggled to understand what had happened between her and Chris, where everything went wrong.

When she finally mustered enough courage to turn the doorknob, what she saw made her freeze in place. Chris was there, standing in front of her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. His face was contorted into an expression of pain and regret, and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more at the sight of the person she loved so much in a deplorable state.

"Chris." Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process the scene before her eyes.

Chris didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just sobbed, thick tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he fought to contain the overwhelming emotions that overwhelmed him. His body shook violently, each sob a painful reminder of all the mistakes he had made in the last few weeks.

Y/N felt tears in her own eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the pain she saw reflected in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped Chris in a tight hug, letting him cry on her shoulder as she gently stroked his hair, her own tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

For long minutes, they stayed there, lost in each other's arms that transcended the words and hurts. It was as if, in that moment, their wounded souls found a refuge in each other, a source of comfort and peace amid the chaos their lives had become.

"Baby! B-baby, I'm- I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry-" The boy's words came out in broken sobs, his words almost incomprehensible.

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart clenching by her own pain. With a sigh, she pulled away lightly, holding his hand firmly and gently guiding him into her house, closing the door behind them, the warmth of the walls enveloping their cold bodies.

Y/N led Chris over to the living room couch, keeping a cautious distance as he sat down next to her on the cushioned seat. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, filled with tension and unspoken emotions, as Y/N waited patiently for Chris to find the words to express what was in his heart.

Finally, after a long moment, Chris broke the silence, his voice still cracked from his recent crying.

"Baby, I... I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you deeply with my actions, and I never wanted to make you feel that way."

Chris sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to find the right words, his right leg bouncing up and down in anxiety.

"I was so obsessed with YouTube, with my success, that I ended up neglecting the most important thing in my life: you. I got lost in the cool lights and the adrenaline of fame, and I forgot how much you mean to me. And I'm so fucking sorry for that." His lower lip trembled slightly, making him trap it between his teeth.

The boy's words cut deep into Y/N, reigniting the pain and hurt she had kept inside. She felt tempted to step away to protect her heart from the possibility of being hurt again. But something in Chris's eyes made her hesitate, something she recognized as genuine regret and love.

"Chris..." Y/N began, her voice shaky and filled with uncertainty. "You don't understand how much it hurt me every time you kept me waiting, every time you put your work and your friends before me. I felt so alone, so unappreciated."

"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I would do anything to make things right, to prove that you're my real priority." Chris lowered his head, frowning and fixing his eyes on his legs, guilt weighing on his shoulders.

Y/N raised her right hand, taking it to his chin covered with the beard he had let grow in the last few days, pushing it up so that she could look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation reflected there.

She wanted to believe him and wanted to open her heart to forgiveness and the possibility of a future together again. But the pain of everything that had been done brought her such insecurity that she knew she needed time to heal.

"I don't know, Chris." Y/N murmured, the hand that was holding his chin falling with a thud onto her lap. "I'm still hurt, I'm still trying to process everything that happened. I don't know if I can just forgive and forget."

Chris swallowed hard, fear evident in his eyes as his mind screamed at him to do everything, anything. Even if he needed to kneel in front of his girl to get her back.

"Please, Y/N. I promise I'll do everything to make this right, to be the boyfriend you deserve. Just give me a chance to prove that I can change."

Y/N looked at him again, seeing the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was something about Chris, something she couldn't ignore, something that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to the way they were before.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N reached her hand out to Chris again, taking his and intertwining their fingers tightly, her heart warming with the touch she had missed so much.

"I forgive you, Chris." She murmured, her voice sounding soft but her eyes carrying an indescribable firmness. "But know that things are going to have to change. Your priorities are going to have to take the right path this time."

taglist:

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.6 devil's advocate

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 6/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.7k

a/n. so sorry for the wait! i'm really excited for this chapter, it's one that i've been waiting for since before i even started the series, and it was a lot of fun to write. i hope you enjoooy <3 if there are typos, your mind is just playing tricks on you

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Life after realizing you had feelings for Gojo Satoru seemed to pass by in slow-motion, as you spent a significant portion of the day consumed by thoughts of him. Although it was against your better judgment, it was nice to have your mind occupied by something that wasn’t career stress, school stress, or financial stress. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt this way about someone, and it was healthy to indulge in some escapism, right? 

You find yourself scrolling through his Instagram page for the second third time today, captivated by the attractive photos of him in his soccer uniform, kicking at the ball with a determined look on his face. Your gaze fixates on the blue follow-back button staring back at you on his page, remembering that you still haven’t followed him back. Pulling your phone away from your line of sight, you glance up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and swiftly tap the blue button. You clutch your phone to your chest right after, surprised by the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s only ten seconds before you’re back to perusing his photos. 

You sigh dreamily from where you were laid back on your bed. Mina looks up at you from her desk with an irritated expression on her face. 

“What’s with the dreamy sighing every thirty seconds? I’m trying to study here,” she says to you.

You throw her a look. “Oh please, I’ve had to deal with your dreamy sighs every single time you were on the phone with Todo for the past two weeks. You can handle a few of mine.”

Mina’s eyes widen at your words and she turns in her chair to look at you intently. “Wait…who are you dreamily sighing for?”

You blink in response. “Oh, uh. No one? I mean, what’s that one actor’s name–the one in that show we were watching?” You tap your finger to your lip, pretending to be in deep thought, but Mina wasn’t buying any of it since she promptly stood up from her chair and snatched your phone out of your hand. You yelp and sit up on your bed to try and grab it back from her but she has that I was the eldest sibling in my household grip on your phone. 

“Is this…Gojo Satoru’s Instagram page?” she asks, extending your phone out in front of her and tilting her head to the side at the screen, as though she was trying to wrap her head around it.

“Stop! You’ll accidentally tap on something,” you’re squealing at her, arms flailing out in an attempt to grab at your phone. She eventually hands it back to you and you’re sighing with relief before flopping back down onto your bed, fingers eagerly swiping up on the screen to make sure she didn’t accidentally like one of his posts from four months ago. 

“Are you crushing on Gojo Satoru?” Mina asks with her hands on her hips.

You meet her gaze with a hint of guilt. You haven’t kept Mina up-to-speed on a lot of the things that have happened within the past three weeks, including the night last week when Gojo stayed with you out on the road after you got your flat tire and then kissed you. It’s been about five days since then, and you feel that if you fessed up now, she’d be mad that you didn’t tell her right away. 

“I’m…” you start as you look at her and she raises an eyebrow at you that makes you sheepishly sit up on your bed, pretty much kneeling in front of her. “Maybe. A little bit? I don’t know.”

She looks at you with surprise before walking backwards and sitting onto her bed, facing you. She presses her lips together, deep in thought, and there’s an almost concerned expression on her face. “When did this develop?”

You end up explaining pretty much everything that has happened between you and Gojo as of recently, her face staying neutral through even the most surprising details, and by the time you’re done explaining and waiting for her to give a response, you realize you’re tensing your shoulders and holding your breath.

She sighs, sulking a little and her bed frame creaks underneath the mattress. “I can’t believe you kissed Gojo Satoru and you didn’t tell me about it, like, practically the second after it happened. Also, you never told me that’s why you called me that night! It makes sense now why your car has been in ‘service’ for almost an entire week. I feel so horrible you went through that and I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her with a small smile. “I’m fine. It was really nerve-wracking in the moment,” you say as you glance down at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night flash through your mind. “But having him there really helped calm me down,” you admit in a hushed tone. When you look up at Mina, she wears a soft and knowing expression on her face.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmurs and returns your smile with one of her own, but her eyes still look at you with caution.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I don’t really know Gojo that well. From what you’re telling me, he seems like a nice guy,” she comments, “but the fact he’s been really diligent in following-through with this whole film photography assignment of yours makes me wonder where his head’s at with you.” She finishes her sentence, but you continue to watch her since you could tell she had more on her tongue. “I just hope he’s not messing with you.” 

“Messing with me?” you ask her. There’s a part of you deep inside that’s wondering the same thing, but the thought of having to confront that feeling in order to get an answer makes you want to stay in blissful ignorance instead. 

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at you for a few seconds. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a crush, right?” Her phone chimes with an alarm noise and she grabs it to turn it off. “Oh shoot, I’m going to be late for class,” she groans, leaping up off of her bed and stuffing all of her things on her desk into her bag. She gives you a goodbye over her shoulder just before she heads out of your shared room and then you’re all by yourself. 

Mina’s last question to you hangs in the air. You didn’t really know how you would’ve answered, because you didn’t know what you expected to come from your feelings, if anything at all. You’ve had feelings for plenty of other guys before, some turning into something more and others turning into nothing at all. Having feelings for someone wasn’t really something to worry about or complicate. 

You lay back down onto your bed with a sigh and go to the messages on your phone, clicking on Gojo’s name. It was so bizarre that he was now in your list of actual text messages since you had his number now, but the two of you have only exchanged a few texts since that night you last saw him. He sent over his practice schedule for the week, which was pretty packed and busy since their big game on the 28th was in just two days, and when you zoom in on the picture you see that he has practice in about ten minutes from now. You assumed that since he never texted you about it, they were probably just doing drills out on the field or some other exercises. But you missed him, and you wished that you did have an excuse to visit him. You didn’t care about tweaking your camera angles, fixing the exposure, or trying out different light sensitivities for your photos so they come out immaculate. You just wanted to see him again.

Tossing your phone to your side, suddenly frustrated by how mentally drained you feel, you look around the room and decide to tidy up a bit to distract yourself from all your emotions. As you start to pick things up off your desk and place them back on the shelf, you notice that you still have a netted bag full of washed laundry to fold. You dump all of the clothing onto your bed, consisting of sports bras, multiple pairs of jeans, your nice panties and also your grandma undies. One of the articles of clothing catches your eye, and you pull it out from the pile. It was Gojo’s jacket. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you take in the sight of it, all the memories of that night flashing back into your head. You remember the chill of the air, the deep sound of his voice beside you, the gentle look in his eyes, his lips pressed against yours. Gojo had kissed you, so that had to have meant something, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, an emotional decision because the two of you were alone, and it was dark, and it was cold, and you two were reveling in each other’s warmth, but it was still something he initiated. It was so brief, the moment cut so tragically short that you still find yourself craving more despite the fact it happened almost a week ago. Mina wasn’t home that night, and instead of spending the rest of it curled up by yourself like you ended up doing, you could’ve easily invited him inside. You wonder if he would’ve taken you up on the offer, and how far you two would’ve gone. And now, because you were imaging it, you find it in your heart that you wanted it. Before you know it, those feelings you swore you wouldn’t complicate started to feel complicated. If all the novels, movies, poems, and folklore of this world have been any indicator, when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s always impossible to defy. 

You bring the jacket to your chest, the fabric now smelling like the laundry detergent that all of your other clothes smell like, and no longer of him. It was the polite thing to do to wash it, but the absence of his scent on the soft material just made you miss him even more. 

Closing your eyes in disbelief at the thought that crosses your mind, you resolve to act now and deal with whatever comes later. If you wanted to see him, you were going to see him. Besides, wanting to hand his jacket back to him wasn’t so bad of an excuse to drop by, right? What if it was a deeply sentimental article of clothing that is agonizing for him to be apart from? (a/n. he doesn’t even realize you still have it lol)

You grab your tote bag as well as his jacket and head out of your apartment, down to the ground floor, and walk down the street until you reach the bus stop that takes you to campus. You make it there in about forty minutes, the bus dropping you off near the central area. As you start walking towards the expensive art sculpture near the practice fields, you pass by the school’s mini convenience store and the bottles of strawberry vanilla soda splayed out in the display case catches your eye. You then find yourself inside buying two cans. One for him, one for you. Maybe he’ll be open to hanging out after practice, and you could properly treat him to something nice for all of his help. 

Soon enough, you’re walking across the grassy hills that lead to the field. It was a slightly gloomy day today, with the sun only peaking through the clouds every five minutes or so, but it was still beautiful and something about the fresh air made your chest swell with ease. Just as you get closer, you notice Geto and Nanami walking together in your direction.

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you hear Geto say when you approach them.

You greet the two of them with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to see you two. Are you finished with practice?”

“No, we’ve still got about two hours left, but we just finished a pretty intense set of drills so coach is giving us a fifteen,” Geto says through strained breathing, and you finally notice that the two of them looked sweaty and spent. “What’s that in your arms?”

You look down at the strawberry vanilla sodas you were carrying and then back up at the two of them. “Oh…I just wanted to bring some soda for mr. center forward, as a thanks for getting me referee permission to be on-field on Thursday.” 

Nanami crosses his arms across his chest and Geto’s eyes widen. “Damn, wish I had a cute girl go out of her way to bring me strawberry-flavored soda mid practice,” Geto muses.

“I don’t think Satoru deserves this level of kindness, y/n,” Nanami tells you with a shake of his head. Geto looks over at him with a wry expression before letting out a small laugh. 

You give the two of them a smile. “No, really, he’s been helpful. Is he out on the field?” you ask, standing on tiptoes to try and peer over their shoulders towards the field.

“Yeah, he is, I think he stayed back since Coach Yaga was yelling at him about something,” Geto answers and he takes a glance at his watch, “he usually doesn’t stick around to take the lecturing for longer than two minutes so he’s probably somewhere hanging around nearby.” 

“That’s good. Coach Yaga scares me,” you admit to the two of them, pretending to shiver at the thought of him yelling, and this earns a smile from Nanami. 

“He’s really not that scary of a guy, just pretends to be one,” Geto informs you then lets out an exhale and places his hands on his hips after fully regaining his breath. “So, you’re going to be on the field with us on Thursday? That’s awesome, please cheer for us. Also, you should come out to the house party the night before the game.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guys still party before your big games?”

Geto laughs. “I always forget you’re not in a sorority. Yeah, we do, I think the frat just wants an excuse to go crazy and picks our game schedule to go off of. You’ve no idea how many of our players have been in massive shit by showing up hungover to games.” 

Nanami lets out a disgruntled noise. “It’s irresponsible, honestly.”

You give an apologetic laugh before fidgeting with the soda cans in your arms, eventually throwing them into your tote, and then peering over their shoulders once more as an impatient feeling washes over you, the desire from earlier to see Gojo consuming you in a way that was entirely distracting. Nanami seems to notice this as he uncrosses his arms and slightly nudges Geto with his elbow. Geto sends him a curious glance before looking back at you.

“Well, anyway. If you’re free tomorrow night, come by. Pre-game parties are usually pretty hype. Yuuji’s bouncing, so he’ll let you in,” Geto says to you, giving you a kind smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it,” you say, returning his smile. The two of them walk past you and you continue to trek forwards until you reach the large hill that oversees the field. 

Once you’re at the top, your eyes immediately scan the field for Gojo, and you quickly spot him at the foot of the hill talking to some people. You notice the group surrounding him weren’t wearing athletic clothing of any sort, so you assumed they were just his friends. He had a bright smile on his face and just the sight of it created a warmth within you. As you begin to stumble down the hill, your legs hasty in their stride, you see him leaning down forward towards one of the girls in the group with a playful look on his face. The girl looks up at him with a tilt of her head and you hear feminine, high-pitched laughter in the air as she steps closer to him, swatting at his chest from something he says. He’s fully grinning at her now, and it’s so painfully obvious they’re flirting that the feeling in your chest that was so excited to see him quickly turns sour. 

He somehow catches you standing at the bottom of the hill in his periphery and his eyes widen. There’s a moment where you hesitate, but eventually take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. A few within the group let out confused noises from the disruption and then you were standing right in front of Gojo. 

“Who’s this?” one of his friends asks, particularly annoyed since you had accidentally nudged him to the side in your stride. You could feel the wide eyes from the men and the curious glares from the women. 

Gojo’s standing there shocked, likely from the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, and then glances around to the people in the group. “Oh, just someone I…” he starts, his facial expression softening slightly when he looks back at you, but you’re giving him a guarded expression, “...know.” 

Your mouth opens slightly in disbelief, before you quickly close it. It’s true that you didn’t really know what you and Gojo were at the moment, it’s possible you would’ve answered the same, but his description of the nature of your relationship with him still hurts. He could’ve at least said your name or introduced you. And your disappointment from his words made you realize an unsettling truth, which was that you did want more from him, and you weren’t sure if that was something he was interested in at all. 

The girl he was talking to earlier is glaring daggers at your side, and you suddenly feel suffocated surrounded by a group of people watching you with interest. The man in front of you, despite getting to know him for the better part of the past three weeks, started to feel like a stranger to you all over again. You shove his jacket to his chest, and he looks down at it with surprise before hesitantly grabbing onto it. 

“Just wanted to return your jacket,” you mumble to him, trying so hard to sound neutral and sane. “I washed it for you.”

You hear a few of the men surrounding you coo something suggestive, a few laughs making their way between them as the women in the group scoff in denial. You ignore them and keep your gaze on Gojo. He’s looking straight down at you and scanning your features, and you notice his face briefly contorts into one of guilt when he registers the disappointed look on your face. 

Reaching into your bag, you pause when you see the two cans of strawberry vanilla soda sitting at the bottom, the smiling cartoon mascot faces on the labeling staring up at you like some pitiful conscience. You reached in and grabbed one regardless, then extended it to Gojo. He blinks at it before looking up at you. When he doesn’t immediately grab it, you also shove it to his chest until he does. When his fingertips make contact with your hand as he takes it from you, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. 

You bite your lip, faltering before you speak again. “For your help. Officially even now.” Then you turn around and push through the strangers spectating the whole scene to make it over to the grassy hills. You vaguely hear Gojo call your name out from behind you, his voice quickly drowned out by the voices of those surrounding him as they continue conversation, and soon enough you’re out of sight over the hill. 

—

“So, you’re telling me that this guy goes out of his way to help you for this class assignment, in a way that’s unproportionate to the favor that you put in for him, he flirtatiously teases you any chance he gets, drives out late at night to stay with you when you’re stranded with a flat, has an earnest conversation with you about life, kisses you, diligently takes care of you until you’re home safe, and then when you run into him in front of his friends, he says you’re just someone he knows?” Mina’s recounting every single painful detail as she paces around in your shared room. “I know you both haven’t had a conversation about anything after that night, which is insane because you should’ve, but at least he could’ve said you were a friend?” 

You scoff from where you’re laid down on your bed. “I caught him sliding his hands up a girl’s top in the bathroom at that SAE party last week, and when he tried to explain the situation to me he said that he and that girl are just friends. So, by his definition, we’re definitely not friends.”

Mina sighs. “Honestly, y/n, I know he’s charming and he’s been nice to you, but he still has a reputation for being a player.” 

You look up at the ceiling, your pillow clutched in your arms for emotional support. “He almost looked like he didn’t even want me there. Like I was an unwelcome interruption. Some sort of nuisance.” You weren’t sure exactly how to read the expression he had on his face from your unexpected visit, but your brain had a habit of settling on the worst. 

Mina sits down at her desk, turning her chair to face you. You were fully sulking like a heart-broken teenager and you didn’t understand why. He wasn’t any sort of title to you, and you haven’t even known him for that long. Barely a couple weeks ago, you were still resolved to the fact that he was some sort of mystery. An urban legend around campus that you couldn’t believe you were talking to because people like him didn’t usually talk to people like you. 

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels about you? Put an end to the guessing game. Be like ‘hey, jerk, I know it’s common-place for frat dudes to kiss girls like they’re a dime a dozen. But that’s not gonna fly with me, so fess up on your intentions’. Something like that,” Mina suggests, waving a finger in the air.

You glance at her annoyed. “Were you trying to do an impression of me? I don’t talk like that.”

“You kind of do, love,” she says with a smile on her face. 

You look back up at the ceiling. “...I don’t want to have that conversation with him. It’ll hurt my pride. He should’ve been the one asking me what we are now, since he’s the one that kissed me.” You turn to gauge her opinion at your words, but her expression isn’t giving any hints. “Is that petty? I feel like I’m being petty.”

“No, girl, I agree with you,” she says with a sigh, “that’s how it should be, but almost never ends up being the case.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly, a thought forming in her head, before looking down at you with a sly smile. 

“What?” you ask, already wearily anticipating her response.

“You want to know how to find out how he feels about you without asking him how he feels about you?” she says like it was some sort of sales pitch.

You turn onto your side and perch yourself up on your elbow, a little too interested. “How?”

She snaps her fingers. “Make him jealous.”

You look at her apprehensively. “Jealous?”

“I mean, that’s the foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you. Based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat,” she says with a playful shrug.

You flop down on the bed again. “Now that’s petty.” You hug your pillow to your chest again, considering the option. You didn’t even know if Gojo would feel jealous if you tried to make him jealous, it’s possible he wouldn’t even care at all if he saw you with another guy. 

“Yes, petty, but so what? We’re seniors in college, now’s our last chance to be petty. After we graduate, we’ve got to be fully functioning members of society,” she sighs, “you only get to be a petty college chick once.”

“How would I make him jealous?” you ask, still dwelling on her suggestion.

“Well, SAE is having that pre-game party tonight, he’s definitely going to be there. It’s your chance,” she says, tapping at her phone to glance at the time. 

You hum to yourself. The mature part of you is telling you that it’s a ridiculous idea, but the angel on your shoulder that has weathered the pain of all your confusing feelings as of lately was starting to play devil’s advocate. After a minute’s silence, you cover your face with your hand and groan. “Oh god.”

Mina looks up at you again. “What?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you say, swinging your feet over to the edge of the bed so you’re sitting up, pillow still hugged to your chest as you look at her. “I’m going to go find out how he really feels about me.”

Mina’s smiling at you and hops onto her feet. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for the toxic version of you to make her appearance.”

There was still a couple of hours before the party, so you take a shower and spend some time doing your hair as well as makeup. Wearing your robe, you walk over to your dresser and open it to pull out a pair of jeans when Mina looks over at you and sighs. You send her a look and she makes her way over to you, nudging you to the side with her hip and shoving your jeans back into the drawer.

“You’re not wearing jeans to this party,” she groans, “do I seriously have to teach you everything?” Mina starts shifting through the clothes you had hung up on your hangers, eyes landing on something that was tucked away to the side. She pulls out your black dress, the one that had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the short hem that barely fell to the middle of your thighs. She pats at the soft and silky material, pulling on it in an attempt to smooth out one of the wrinkles. “Oh, yes, honey. This will definitely do.”

“It’s wrinkled,” you say in a poor attempt to get out of wearing it. 

“Nothing my straightener set at 350 degrees won’t fix,” she says to you with a wink.

It takes Mina three minutes to prepare your dress for you while you anxiously pace around the room, fidgeting to yourself, and she eventually hands it to you to wear. The dress had an A-line silhouette cinched at the waist and the top half was tight, so you decided not to wear a bra with it. Just as you’re about to pull on a pair of biker shorts underneath to cover a bit more since the short fabric was hardly doing much, Mina sends you another disappointed look. 

“y/n, please, you’re killing me here,” she says. “To make him jealous, you’ve gotta get other guys to look at you. That might mean being a bit risque with the attire tonight.”

You sulk your shoulders before sighing and tossing your biker shorts back into your closet. You turn around to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress over you and tousling with your hair before gasping a little as you take in your entire appearance. You looked good, and Mina’s playful cat-call from behind you only gave you a greater kick of confidence. 

“Love it, cute but sexy at the same time,” she says with a smile. “It’s your turn to be the hottie at the party.”

You two decide to take an Uber to the frat strip, arriving at the host house close to 10pm, and you can already hear the loud chanting and music inside. As you make your way up to the driveway, a gust of wind breezes by and your hands immediately hold down the fabric of your dress in an attempt to not flash the group of people walking behind the two of you. Mina looks over at you with a mischievous smile. You make eye contact with Yuuji at the entrance and he straightens his posture when he sees you and Mina approaching.

“Hello, ladies. I see we’ve switched roles here tonight,” Yuuji says with a tip of his head. “Bombshell friend,” he gestures to you, “and-”

“If you call me a casual tomboy, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” Mina says to him.

Yuuji blinks at her. “Head on in,” he mumbles and you two walk past him.

It hits you as you walk inside that this is the third SAE party that you’ve been to within the past three weeks, and yet the atmosphere still surprises you every time. The music was loud, but at this one, the people chanting was even louder. You notice there were posters and flags with the school’s colors and symbols plastered up and hanging from the staircase, as well as pinned up jerseys on the walls that looked a lot like the ones that the soccer players wear during matches. Oh, and derogatory insults for the opposing school were drawn across all the decorations.

“I’m going to go find Todo,” Mina says to you with excitement and then she’s skipping off into the heart of the party, leaving you alone.

You sigh and fidget with the sleeves of your dress, looking around the party, your heart beating fast in your chest at the prospect that you’ll lock eyes with Gojo but you don’t see him anywhere. As you walk inside, you notice that people are looking at you, and when you make eye contact with some, you notice a lot of them were men, and the attention has you itching for a drink. You quickly make your way into the kitchen and are satisfied when you see the insane amount of options that you can reach for on the island. You grab a White Claw, crack the can open and when you turn around, you jump a little from the sight of a person in front of you.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of you says with an apologetic look on his face, and you recognize him as the one that was bouncing the last SAE party that you went to last weekend. “Just going to reach around you to grab…that.” He reaches around you to grab an entire bottle of tequila, his arm brushing against yours and his eyes meet yours with a smile on his face. “I remember you from last week. You’re stunning by the way, what’s your name?”

You tell him and he’s nodding his head slowly, a cheeky look on his face that you’re used to seeing when guys attempt small talk to distract from the other less-than-innocent things they have floating around in their heads. “Nice, I’m Ryota,” he says as he adjusts the snap-back he was wearing on his head, “you, uh, in a sorority?” He leans back against the kitchen counter in front of you and you wonder if grabbing the tequila was just an excuse to talk to you.

You find yourself turning away from him slightly, taking a huge gulp of the White Claw you had in your hands to realize that 8% ALC./VOL was not going to be enough to get you through the night, so you turned to face him again. “No, I’m not. Are you going to drink all that tequila by yourself or are you looking to share?”

He smirks at you. “There’s enough for two.” 

You and this man you met literally two minutes ago cheers a few shots, throwing them back, and you notice that he does them almost effortlessly while you’re wincing from the fact that it’s been a long time since you’ve had hard liquor. He’s chuckling at your reactions as your face scrunches up from your third shot and you wave your hand in front of your face from the burn. A few people that walk in and out of the kitchen periodically give the two of you amused looks before walking back out into the loud party nearby. 

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Ryota asks and you sigh, your face already feeling flushed.

“I can, I swear,” you whine.

“Here, wanna?” he says to you as he hands you another shot and then he holds his outstretched arm up. You think he’s trying to cheers, so you tap his shot glass, and then he’s laughing. “No, hold your arm out.” You do as he says and he holds his arm against yours and soon enough he’s taking a step closer to you and you’re interlocking your arms at the elbow. You let out a small gasp from his proximity but his eyes on you are unwavering. He brings his shot glass to his lips and you do the same and then you both tip your heads back, the burn in your throat making you unwind your arm from him and shake your head until you’re leaning back against the island counter and you hear him laugh again in front of you.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls out that instantly sobers you up from the four shots of tequila you so valiantly threw back. 

The two of you turn your heads to look at the source of the voice, and you see Gojo standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest, still so shocked at just how breathtaking he was anytime you saw him. He was holding an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. You straighten your posture but Ryota still leans against the counter nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s up dude. Sorry, I was about to circle back with more tequila, but I got caught up in here,” Ryota says and flashes you a smile. “Do you know y/n here?” 

You observe Gojo, who wears a tense expression in response to hearing his words, and then he locks eyes with you. A look of surprise swiftly passes across his face as he takes in your appearance, and you feel as if you're practically burning under his gaze. He looks back at Ryota and furrows his brow. 

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters and rudely pushes right in between the two of you to make it to the fridge. “Seems like you do, too.” 

Ryota seems to pick up on something from Gojo's tone that you don’t, because suddenly he’s standing up straight from the counter and turns to look at you with a contemplative expression. "I'll bring the tequila, or what's left of it I guess, out there," he mentions to Gojo, excusing himself with a brief glance in your direction. As he leaves and turns around the corner, a noticeable weight hangs in the air from how you and Gojo are alone in the kitchen now.

You lean back against the island, reaching for the White Claw you had opened earlier and take another sip. There was a muted buzz lingering in your head, and it felt good, offering a pretty welcome distraction from the fact that Gojo was standing just a few feet away from you, searching for something in the fridge. When he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, he closes the fridge door with a louder-than-normal slam, startling you, and then he turns around to face you.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he declares with an edge to his voice, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, pal, should I send you a notarized attendance letter three business days in advance so I don’t end up cock-blocking you in a bathroom again?” you sneer at him. 

He leans back against the fridge, facing you as he crosses his arms across his chest. Damn it, don’t stare at the muscles. Don’t do it. “What’s with the attitude?” 

“I don’t have an attitude, this is just how I talk to my acquaintances,” you retort as you take another sip of your drink.

He takes a step forward to you, eyes shamelessly dipping to the neckline of your dress and then a little bit further to where the hem grazes your thighs. He places his palm on the counter behind you that you were resting back on and then he’s leaning closer to you, your grip on the can in your hand tightening. He was so close that you can’t think of anything but him. His eyes are on your lips when he speaks. “Are we just acquaintances?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, all of your anger from yesterday and earlier today resurfacing at his question as you look up at him straight in the eyes. “Yes, I’m only someone you know, right?”

He’s sighing and you can tell he wants to pull away from you to display his annoyance, but he stays right where he’s at. The hand that was placed on the counter slowly inches towards your waist until his thumb is brushing against the fabric of your dress just underneath your rib cage. He starts to draw slow circles on the material, pressing into your skin occasionally, and you‘re breathless from the contact. “I’m getting the hint that you’re mad at me about something, but it’s hard to care when you’re looking like this.”

You let out a scoff at his words. You’ve spent the past two days suffering from his behavior, and he’s trying to get away with it by practically seducing you. But there was also a part of you that was entirely aroused by how little he seemed to care about your attitude and how much more he seemed to care about the way you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Looking like what?”

The thumb that was pressing against the clothed skin of your waist retreats and his hand moves back to where it was before, laid flat on the counter next to you, except this time his other arm reaches out for the surface too. And now he’s got you caged-in, looking down at you like he’s trying really hard to not get even closer. “Looking hot as fuck? You’re kind of vain for making me say it out loud.” 

You’re effectively dazed out of your goddamn mind at this point, using all the self-control you’ll have for the rest of a lifetime to not grab onto his shirt and pull him into you, all inhibitions lost to the wind. You wouldn’t even care if anyone walked in, you just needed him on you, touching you, kissing you right now. But there’s a tiny part of you that’s still mad at him, and fortunately that tiny part of you pulls through. “If you think trying to seduce me is going to make me not angry anymore, you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. You think this is me trying to seduce you? If that’s so, I’m starting to worry you won’t be able to take it,” he whispers that last part so suggestively that you’re weak in the knees from his words. He seemed so different, entirely preoccupied by taking in the sight of every inch of you in front of him that any sense of shame or guilt has left his body, and he’s just looking at you with desire. 

“Satoru…” is all you manage to say as you look up at him, your thighs clenching from the arousal of just his presence surrounding you. 

You see him close his eyes for a second and exhale before he opens them, his pupils all the way dilated and wild when he looks at you again. “Yeah?” he responds, his head dipping down towards yours slightly, lips just inches from yours, like he’s waiting for your permission to act. 

“I…” you start, blinking up at him through your lashes, “...I was having a lot of fun earlier throwing back shots of tequila, and you kind of ruined that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to it.” You place a hand on his chest, his gaze dropping to it in surprise as he watches you push him away from you all the way until his back hits the fridge with a thud.

“What the fuck?” he utters, his face contorted into a confusion you found incredibly comical.

You press up against him, looking up with round eyes and innocence, and you feel him immediately tense up. “Also, very inappropriate to treat someone you barely know like that. I’ll let it slide, though.” 

The last thing you see before you turn away from him is his shocked expression, blinking at you with the rest of him practically motionless, and you skip out of the kitchen towards the main party happening around the corner out of his sight. 

There were bustling people, a few guys coming up to you to talk to you, but you ignore them until you spot Geto, Nanami, some of the other soccer players, and a bunch of other people huddled around in a circle. You tap on Geto’s shoulder and he turns around to face you.

“Oh! Hey, what’s up, you made it,” Geto greets you, pulling you in for a brief hug which surprises you but was also pleasantly received as you hugged him back with a friendly pat. You could smell the alcohol from him. When he pulls away from you, he’s beaming. “We’re all doing rounds of shots, wanna join?”

“Oh my god, the words I’ve been wanting to hear all night,” you say and you join the circle, a bunch of people cheering as they usher you towards the center and you grab a shot glass from the small round table. A group of maybe fifteen people all raise their shot glasses up in the air, you included, and say some incoherent, non-rehearsed words of luck for the soccer team’s game tomorrow before everyone throws back their shots. You’re squealing and jumping up and down in excitement with Geto and watch as Nanami pretends to throw back his shot before dumping its contents into a red plastic solo cup in his hand instead.

“This is so much fun!” you’re yelling. “Can we do another?”

“Hey! New girl wants to do another,” one of the frat dudes calls out, which is followed by cheers and then messy pouring of tequila all over the table as people extend their shot glasses out to be filled. 

Two, three, four, eventually five is your limit until you wander away from the circle, entirely tipsy at this point, over to where people were dancing in front of the DJ’s booth. You bump into some couples that were grinding up on each other, your drunk conscience shamelessly watching their movements, and then accidentally bump into a man so hard that it almost sends you falling back onto the ground but he grabs your arm and keeps you upright. His drink spills a bit out of his hand and onto your dress, making you giggle like a freak. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he’s yelling to you over the music.

“No, I’m sorry,” you yell back, and then you notice he’s wearing a jacket that mimics the patterns of the school’s soccer jersey and has an embroidered player’s number on the chest. It hits you that you’ve seen him on the field before briefly during the practices you’ve been to. “Are you on the soccer team?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says and he tells you his name but the music is way too loud to hear it, and you’re also sort of drunk at this point to register it anyways. But he was cute, and you decided you wanted to dance with him, and dance away is exactly what you do. 

When he twirls you around and presses his chest against your back, your line of sight falls straight ahead to where you see Gojo sitting on a couch. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see a girl place a hand on his thigh and lean towards him, practically sitting in his lap, but the look on his face tells you he’s entirely distracted by something else. His eyes search the room for a few seconds, and when they land on you, he stills. When he tilts his head up to peer behind you and sees who you were dancing with, a look of shock crossed his face. 

For fucks sake, you wouldn’t flirt with one of his teammates, right?

In your drunk, hazy mind, Mina’s words flash by in your head. The foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you is based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

You turn around, reach up and pull the man you were dancing with down towards you, and you kiss him. The man hesitates, clearly surprised, before moving his lips against yours and just when you feel his hands make their way to your waist, you’re being yanked away from him by the arm. When you turn to look at the perpetrator, you see a very viscerally angry-looking Gojo in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god, he looked pissed. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under right now. 

He pulls you by your forearm over to the stairs, and you’re protesting, trying to yank away from his harsh grip, but he doesn’t budge as he takes you up to the second floor and just when you two have made it into the secluded hallway, he pushes you up against the wall, caging you into it with his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he scowls at you, leaning in closer, tone so searing it’s enough to set you on fire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yell back at him, anger rising within you.

“You’re seriously turning out to be a real fucking pain in the ass,” he hisses the words, his eyes darting across your face before settling on your lips.

“Why do you care? I’m just-” you start but he interrupts you when his lips crash down on yours, taking you by surprise. His kiss was hungry, ravenous, all-consuming. So different from that night when he kissed you for the first time with nothing but tenderness. This one felt like he wanted to take everything from you, leaving nothing behind. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your arms slide up past his shoulders, locking behind his neck, and he’s groaning against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. When you grant him access, he deepens the kiss and the taste of him intoxicates you.

“If you imply that you’re just a stranger to me one more fucking time,” he’s growling against your mouth, “I’ll make sure we get real well acquainted with eachother against this wall right now.” His hands find the flesh underneath your ass and he easily hoists you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. “Ask me if I give a fuck if anyone sees.”  

“Oh my god,” you’re gasping, his words hitting you straight to your core, and when you feel his clothed erection pressed against the flimsy cloth of your panties, the self-resolution you once had was all but a distant memory. “Satoru, bathroom, please, not here.”

When you tip your head back, giving him access to your neck and he immediately indulges, peppering kisses down your skin, you roll your hips against his and he squeezes the flesh of your ass hard to reprimand the motion before he takes you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, then setting you up on the counter. 

His kisses get lower until he’s at your collarbone, and he pulls you forward towards him on the surface to where you’re sitting at the edge and he has his hands digging at the soft flesh of your thighs. You’re squirming in his grasp, gripping onto his shirt for any sort of purchase. When his kissing reaches the neckline of your dress and his finger hooks the fabric, threatening to pull it down, he looks at you. 

“Please,” you ask him simply.

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulling down the fabric slowly to just above where your nipples would be set free. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything from me right now?”

“Oh my fucking god I swear, if you don’t yank my dress down, I’ll choke you,” you threaten him. 

“Careful, pretty, I might be into that,” he chides, pressing a kiss to your chest.

You grab the wrist of the hand that was still hooked inside your cleavage, and pull it down harshly so your tits are set free and he leans away from you to take in the sight. He’s mesmerized for a moment, his hand wrapping around your rib cage and thumb poking the softness from the side before it eventually reaches your nipple and starts to play with it. “God, you’re so beautiful. Remind me why we didn’t do this the first night we met?”

When his mouth latches onto your nipple, you tip your head back with a moan and you’re not able to come up with an answer to his question. Because he was right, it was insane that the two of you didn’t. Your hand runs through the short hair of his undercut at the nape of his neck and then grips at the soft strands a bit higher as he sucks and licks at your breasts. You wrap your legs around him tighter, pulling his hips to you, and from the edge of the counter you start to roll your wet panties against the bulge at his front to get relief. He groans against your chest before pulling away. 

“You need to relax. Real fuckin’ desperate now compared to when you were pushing me away in the kitchen thirty minutes ago,” he scolds, his lips finding yours again and one of his hands trails up the skin of your thigh. You open your legs even wider for him sweetly and he smiles against your lips, his fingers brushing the skin of your inner thigh and then finally pressing against your clothed core. You instantly jolt, entirely stimulated by the contact, and he pulls away from the kiss to watch you. 

“S-Satoru…” you whimper because it’s all you can manage to say, your hips pushing forward, craving more of his touch, but he withdraws from your heat all together and steps away from you, his grip on your hips dragging you forward until you step down from the counter and you’re standing in front of him, looking up like you don’t even know how to breathe unless he talks you through it. He turns you around to where you’re facing the mirror, and it’s the first time you take a look at how messed up he’s gotten you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little teary from the lust consuming you. Your tits that appeared plush and perked by the haphazard way the neckline of your dress was tucked underneath them were glistening with his saliva and you felt like you were about to go insane at the sight. You take a look at his face in the reflection, and he too looked like he was about to go insane at the sight. 

“Bend over the counter,” he demands with a rough voice, but you don’t have much of a choice since he’s pushing down on your back anyways. You’ve risen up onto your tiptoes to accommodate the position and he lazily flips the fabric of your dress up over your ass before his hands hook into the side of your panties at your hips, pulling them down, and you feel the fabric practically peel off of you from how wet you were. And then he was on his knees behind you.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this the first night we met?” he laments, marveling at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You already asked that question,” you mumble. 

“Cause it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me,” he sighs and then he drags his index finger into your folds, from your entrance that was sopping wet all the way down to your clit. You’re wiggling, pushing your hips out towards him, and you hear him let out a low, guttural sound in his chest at the sight. His finger experimentally pushes into you and you’re gasping, hand slamming against the mirror.

“You’re so sensitive. Need a second?” he asks like he’s genuinely looking out for you, and yet he doesn’t wait before pushing another finger into you regardless. 

“Mhh..n-no, just need your tongue,” you say through a shaky breath, panting from where you were on the counter. 

He groans at your request and pulls his fingers out of you, instantly making you whine, before giving you a different reason to whine when his tongue presses against your clit.

Your mind was going insane, still registering the shock that this was happening as you moaned from the feeling of his tongue on you, mouth latching on and sucking harshly at your sensitive core that has you writhing and grasping onto anything you could find for purchase. The man that was making a mess at the most intimate part of you right now seemed so different from that kind man last week that pressed that chaste kiss to your lips. This was like you had just summoned the devil and he was on his knees behind you.

You make a mental note to never doubt any of Mina’s advice ever again.

When his hungry lapping at your clit turns into slow, lazy licks against your folds, you whimper above him and attempt to grind against his mouth so his tongue is where you want it. “Mm…p-please, stop teasing, I wanna cum.” 

He pulls his mouth from you and you feel how slick he’s made you, nothing but a mess of your arousal and his spit, before he pushes two fingers inside you and stretches you out inside with them. “But do you deserve to cum, is the question, sweetheart,” he drawls, curling his fingers inside and pressing on that spot that had your walls fluttering around him and building that tight knot in your lower tummy. 

“Yes, I do, fuck,” you’re moaning as he slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, “less talking, more licking my clit.”

His other hand finds your clit, fingers beginning to rub agonizingly slow circles, and you can feel the texture of his calluses across every single nerve ending of the aching bud. “What was that, baby? You want me to be stingy with my tongue? Alright, whatever you say, princess,” he sighs it like he has no choice but to be a fucking dick right now.

“No, oh my god, don’t be stingy with your tongue,” you cry out, your cheek pressing up against the mirror from the sheer desperation of wanting a release, “I’ll kill you.” 

“Can’t make you cum if I’m dead,” he purrs. “God, your pussy’s going crazy right now, clenching around my fingers like it’s got a mind of its own. Can’t wait to fuck you,” he’s groaning, “so sweet, so tight, so wet. Exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y-You’ve imagined this?” you whimper to him when he starts to fully fuck you with his fingers. 

“So many fucking times,” he grumbles, his other hand now gripping your ass and thumb spreading you more open. You blush from how exposed you felt to him, but the noises he was making from the deepest part within his chest made you realize he was a freak for it. He pulls his fingers out of you and then uses both hands to spread your folds apart as he laps at the wetness that was practically dripping from your entrance. “What your world would be like if this was your little ‘terms and conditions’ favor instead.”

His tongue latches onto your clit again and your knees almost buckle. “M-Make me cum and maybe I’ll finally regret the fact that it wasn’t,” you say to him, desperate to coax something feral from him that finally grants you release of the tension building at your core. You’re unable to stay still, squirming and squealing above him, so hopelessly at his mercy.

“Say you’ll never kiss another guy except me ever again,” you hear him grumble with his face still buried in your cunt.

“w-what…” you say, exhaling incredulously, “S-Satoru…you don’t make any sense…we’re not even dat-”

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum,” he tells you simply, pulling his mouth from you again just when you felt like you were about to topple over and you’re about ready to kick him in the face at this point. You try to look over your shoulder to read his facial expression but when his fingers take their position over your clit and he starts to draw stars, you quickly give up and rest your forehead on the mirror. Oh god, this was good, if he just kept going-

As if he could read your mind, he pulls his fingers from your clit entirely, leaving your core agonizingly empty from any part of his touch, and it makes you gasp. You’ve never felt more betrayed in your life.

“Oh my god, okay okay okay!” you’re screaming, sticking your ass out to him and he’s chuckling at the sight. “I’ll never kiss another guy again! Fucking hell, Satoru, please, just make me cum,” you beg, whimpering and almost crying, your thighs twitching from the urge to clench together for some form of relief in his absence.

He seems satisfied by your begging, because he immediately grabs your ass with both hands, one of his thumbs pushing shallowly into your drenched entrance, and then his mouth finds your clit again. You close your eyes shut, and you could feel that you were just seconds away from cumming as he simultaneously sucks and licks relentlessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s when he groans against your center with such a primal frequency, sending shockwaves of vibrations to your center and throughout your entire body, that you fall apart for him and you come undone so violently that your knees entirely give out, and you’re screaming his name. He wraps an arm around your legs to keep you from falling as you squirm on the counter, your walls pulsing and clenching, hips twitching, and then you’re finally calming down. You lay blissfully on the surface, head down, breathing heavily with soft, remnant whimpers leaving your lips.

You hear Gojo let out a short exhale from behind you that almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. When you turn slightly to look back at him, you see he’s palming himself through his pants and looking directly at your cunt. “You’re dripping onto the floor, fuck.” He catches a drop of slick, clear arousal as it falls from your entrance, immediately bringing it to his tongue and licking it off his finger before standing up. 

You barely manage to push your upper body up so that you’re standing, shaking arms working overtime to hold yourself up, and he comes up behind you to press his chest against your back, looking at you in the mirror. He was breathing heavily too, his mouth near your ear and his eyes lidded with lust. You reach your arm up and behind him to grab at the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head, your back arching from the motion, and he groans as he pushes his clothed erection against your ass, head dropping close to your shoulder from the pleasure and he presses a kiss to your skin. The image in front of you, with his broad shoulders and frame completely engulfing yours whole, your hips slightly rocking forwards and pushing against the counter from his indulgent grinding behind you, his hand reaching up to pinch and play with your nipple, it was all so erotic that you were already aching for more. He effectively finger-fucked, licked, and sucked the anger out of you, and that was a dangerous fact. 

His fingers grazed up the side of your waist that the fabric of your dress still clung tightly to, and he loosely held onto you, sighing against the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So pretty like this. Turn around and face me, baby, reflection’s not enough,” he says to you and you do as he says, twirling around. His eyes take in the sight of you, his thumb coming up to press at the soft flesh of your breast and you can see it in his eyes that he was worshipping you. 

You finally take in the entire image of his appearance. His chest was heaving, hair disheveled, shirt was wrinkled at the front from when you were grabbing onto it earlier. There’s a crease to his brow when he looks at you, and you realize that this is not the first time you’ve seen him look exactly like this in a party bathroom. Except the last time, it was from reasons other than your own.

And then there’s that sinking feeling in your chest again.

Just when you observe that spark of intense lust in his eyes, pupils dilated like wild, see it flash through his mind that he thinks he’s about to get lucky with you tonight, you find yourself pushing him away from you for the second time tonight. You’ve got him with his back pressed up against the wall while he looks down at you with confusion, and this time there’s desperation and panic there too.

You look up at him with a discerning softness, and all those tender feelings you’ve been experiencing for the past week come crashing down on you all at once, but your heart aches with their memory. When his eyes study your face, there’s a brief second where he’s surprised to see the way you’re looking at him, and his jaw clenches slightly. 

“Thanks, I really needed this,” you whisper to him, hand patting his chest reassuringly as you try to keep your composure in front of him despite the hollow feeling in your chest, “gave me some clarity. Don’t follow me.” And then you step away from him, pull your panties back up into place, adjust the neckline of your dress up over to cover your chest, then you make your way to exit.

“What? Wait-” he scrambles, sounding stunned from behind you as you open the bathroom door, walk right out into the hallway and close the door behind you, not all the way but just enough so you were out of his line of sight.

You sigh to yourself for a second as you step to the side, fixing at your hair, then take a deep breath as you walk down the hall. It registers in your mind that he listens, never following after you. 

a/n. reader is soooo messy for doing this to him right before his big game lol i'm like scared for her even though i'm literally the author hahha. i hope to see you in the next one! much love

➸ take me to chapter seven!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice (decided to tag all interacts too just so it's not missed if that's ok! love you all sm)

[ericshoney]

Sweetheart ~ Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: mentions of mental health, coping mechanisms, implied ADHD!Reader, slight innocent!reader, use of pet names (kid, sweetheart, petal, bub) in a platonic way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you woke up at twelve full of energy. It wasn't unusual for you to wake up as a bundle of joy, but the time you woke was. You usually wake up at around two or three in the afternoon, not twelve.

You had slept in Nick's bed for the night, your own room being too "boring", or that's what you told Nick as you climbed into his bed to sleep. Not that it was unusual, you and Chris both struggled to sleep alone, sometimes you'd both share a bed, giving Nick and Matt a break.

When you woke, you saw Nick still asleep besides you. Not wanting to wake him, you slowly get up and go take a shower, getting ready for the day. After a bit, you heard Nick shout.

"You in the shower, kid?" He called.

"Yeah! Nearly done!" You shouted back.

You heard him mumble an okay before you quickly finished and got out, drying your hair as you walked back into the bedroom, seeing Nick sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning sweetheart." He said softly.

"Morning, how long was I?" You asked.

"Bout twenty minutes." He answered, making you nod.

Nick then went to shower and get ready as you headed downstairs to the kitchen, seeing Matt and Chris both awake. The two greeted you as you sat on the counter, swinging your legs.

"Your wearing odd socks." Matt mentioned, noticing your pink and blue socks.

"I got bored trying to find a matching pair." You confessed.

"Don't worry, petal. I'll sort it out later." He said with a soft smile. You returned it as Chris started showing you some edits on TikTok.

Nick soon joined the three of you as you then began discussing what you wanted to do for the day. The guys had a pre-filmed video so the day was yours.

"What about Target? Or the park? Or mini golf! Or what about bowling!" You rambled on quickly, making the triplets smile.

"We can do all of them bub, where to first?" Chris replied.

"Umm the park! No bowling! No mini golf! Target! Wait we haven't eaten so food!" You answered quickly.

"Sweetheart, take a deep breath. How about we go to Target, get some food and head to the park first?" Matt suggested calmly.

"Then we can go to mini golf." Nick continued.

"And end the day with bowling." Chris finished.

"Sounds good! Let's go!" You cheered, rushing to the stairs down to the car, the trio laughing softly.

"I'll get her shoes." Chris mentioned, grabbing a pair of your Converse.

By the time the triplets made it to the car, you were already sat in the back having unlocked the car, and playing a game on your phone.

"Bub, your forgetting something." Chris said, as Matt started the car. You looked up and realised he was holding your shoes.

"Oh right." You giggled, slipping them on and putting your feet on Nick's lap, letting him do your laces.

"To Target!" You cheered.

Music began to play as you looked out the window, watching the world go by and before you knew it, you had arrived at Target. The guys got out first before you, something they always did, in case you walked out in front of a car from being distracted.

"I'm gonna get some sour gummy worms!" You said, already excited for the sweet treats.

"Kid, you don't need anymore sugar." Nick said with a laugh. You stuck your tongue out as you all went into the large store.

You all started looking around, grabbing some stuff you wanted for now or later, Chris grabbed a large case of Pepsi saying he was running low, but you knew there were at least ten cans in the fridge. You then drifted away from the guys, a few fidget toys grabbing your attention.

~~~~

As you looked at the different toys, Nick, Matt and Chris started to panic, not seeing you by their side. The trio were protective over you and knew you didn't like being alone, so losing you in a large store wasn't good.

"She was just here!" Matt exclaimed.

"Where would she go?" Chris questioned.

"There!" Nick shouted, pointing out your small figure by the end of the toy aisle. You had a good handful of fidget toys now.

The three rushed over to you as you looked up at them with a sheepish smile. Knowing you made them panic.

"I got distracted..." You mumbled, holding the fidget toys.

"It's okay, petal, but tell us next time. Or grab one of us." Matt said gently, running a hand through your hair.

"Yeah bub, we don't wanna lose you in Target." Chris added.

"We're not mad." Nick reassured you, knowing you were thinking that.

"Okay! But look at these! They light up too!" You cheered, showing the brothers the toys you found. They smiled, knowing you were happy.

"We'll get all of them, sweetheart." Nick said, taking them to hold, in case anything else caught your interest.

You smiled wide as you all continued shopping before heading off to the park. The guys cherished days like this with you, knowing you'd get a lot of your energy out and be extra happy.

[shaunamilfman]

Friends With Benefits to Lovers HCs

pairing: Jackie Taylor x reader

girl 100% is like, “lets keep it casual” and is on your instagram scrolling through your following to see if there’s any hot girls the next day. scrolling through posts and reporting any comment on your page that’s slightly flirty. she’s putting in work.

makes little jealous remarks about any potential girlfriend in your life, even if you’ve barely spoken to them. Jackie quizzes you about them by name and will not accept the answer that you didn’t even know their names in the first place.

trust that she will pop out of nowhere anytime you’re talking to a girl ever. Jackie couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag, but she will find you in 0.2 seconds if someone walks up to you. grabbing onto your arm and resting her head against it just staring at whoever it is until they go away.

Jackie is suddenly all over you. she’s so very clingy and can not get enough of being in your presence. asks you for a hug and then holds on for ten minutes at a time. refuses to move, no matter what. if you have to move for some reason, she’s trying to convince you that you can just shuffle over there together. absolutely ridiculous about it.

calls you constantly to talk about the smallest aspect of her day. she’s going into detail, and there will be a quiz at the end. so you better be ready for it. even if it's trivial, she wants you to know about it and all the stupidly small aspects of your day. she really is interested in knowing that your lunch was too cold by the time you got to eat it.

small little smiles she saves just for you. insists she looks at all of her friends like that, but you’re not buying it. especially because she never looked at you like that before you started hooking up. 

texts you every single night to say good night and every single morning like clock work. she’s never texted someone before Shauna before. it feels a little strange, even. double, triple, quadruple texting if you don’t respond to her quick enough. you better not fall asleep before her because her ass will wake you up calling.

casually possessive in ways she feels like she can get away with. steals all your clothes and keeps leaving her hair tie on your wrist or something. she wants it known, but deniability is important.

starts calling things “ours” instead of “mine” or “yours.” funny enough, it always seems to be your stuff that becomes ours.

invites you out to dinner and forgets her money so you have to pay for it. looks over at you and is like, “wow it’s almost like a date.“

very physically affectionate. it’s not something entirely out of left field because she’s always been the most affectionate of all your friends, but this is another level entirely. casual touches whenever she passes by: a hand brushing against your shoulder, or against your waist as she walks behind you. wraps her arms around your shoulders and rests her head against yours whenever she catches you standing still for too long. sitting in your lap as she pulls out her phone to show you something that reminded her of you.

shows up unannounced at your place all the time with flimsy excuses. claims she needs help with homework or wants to go over practice drills, but it’s obvious she just wants to spend time with you. it gets to the point where she just shrugs and throws herself down on your bed without even offering one.

overly invested, pointed questions about your dating life. keeps talking about how she would hate to get in the way if you were trying to be serious about someone, but is visibly relieved whenever you say you weren’t seeing anyone else.

does little things to make your life easier and is overjoyed whenever you notice and thank her for them. your favorite snacks are in your bag, the water bottle you always forget to take to practice, and the textbook you left at her house.

strategically leaves her things in your room to see if you call her out on it. she's got three days worth of clothes in your closet, half your dresser, and is pushing your stuff towards the edge of your bathroom sink before you finally put your foot down.

tries to play cool but is so embarrassingly bad at it.

talking to the other girls like, “yeah…ha ha, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.” and keeps looking at you to see how you’re going to react.

never officially asks you out. just starts calling herself your girlfriend one day and expects you to go along with it. after all, why wouldn’t you?

[likedovesinthewindd]

hey babes i recently commented under one of your posts about ex patrick 😮‍💨😮‍💨 oh my god that was like insane. i thought i’d come to the ask box to elaborate. i’m thinking readers perspective. you’ve been on some shitty dating app for hours, just trying to find a casual hook up bc hey ur horny, whatever!! and no guy is like hot, not like patrick. your kids spending the night with him, you dropped her off earlier. so you show up at his door at about 12 pm, tell him to not say anything as you take him straight to the bedroom of the house you once lived in together. tell him to shut up when you fuck him 😞😞😞and patrick’s living for it bc like he’s desperate. and you look at his hand and the damn rings still on like god!

i'm so glad you elaborated on this because this is just perfect, your mind is beautiful. the ring still being on? telling him to shut up? pussy = exploded

You've always been a very proud person, very assured of your worth, and never willing to bend the boundaries you've set for yourself. That was why it just felt ten times more humiliating that you found yourself on a dating app at eleven pm on a Friday night, searching for what you could only call a quick fuck.

It's been close to an hour and a half's worth of scrolling and swiping, and you've found nothing. Some candidates have come close, but upon closer inspection, their descriptions made them sound like the worst people on earth, and even though you were somewhat desperate, you still had standards.

You switched off your phone and threw it next to you on bed with an exasperated sigh, staring up into the broken ceiling fan in your dark bedroom. Is this what your life had come to? Single, lonely, and frustrated beyond belief? You closed your eyes, mind running through your day's activities as you refocused your mind on trying to fall asleep instead of jumping into a stranger's bed.

Your mind drifted to earlier today when Patrick came to pick up your daughter. She had been so excited, practically jumping into his arms and shrieking in joy as he lifted her into the air. He looked so good, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and one of those stupid polo shirts he always wore that sat a little tighter around his biceps, emphasizing their size. He loitered around your apartment a little longer, making small talk and as always inquiring you about your life before he was on his way again.

Your apartment felt so empty without your daughter's laughter and presence around, which only intensified the deep longing and loneliness that felt like it ran bone deep. Ever since your divorce, you've assured concerned friends and family that you'd have no problems adjusting to now being alone because, in all honesty, you didn't feel alone. Your daughter kept you busy, as well as your job, and you had a good support system from said friends and family. Up until recently, though, you've been feeling what you suppose everyone had warned you about. Not being alone but lonely.

The next few moments after that were one big blur. One minute, you were jumping out of bed and hastily dressing yourself in something warmer and searching around your apartment for your car keys, and the next you were in front of Patrick's door at a quarter past midnight.

After a few knocks, the door was opened by a half asleep Patrick, eyebrows creasing in confusion when he saw you standing in his doorway. "Hey?" he said, voice still thick with sleep as he stepped to the side, making way for you to come inside. "Hi," you said softly as you made your way inside the small house.

Upon entering, it was like a wave of nostalgia hit you, almost knocking you off your feet. Patrick hadn't made much effort to renovate or change the place after you left, basically just replaced the things you took with you and keeping everything else the way it was when the two of you first moved in. The area just above the fireplace still proudly displayed a plethora of photos; mostly your daughter's baby photos and pictures from college, but what caught your eye was that he still kept all your wedding photos. You picked up one of the framed photos, finger wiping the dust that had gathered around the edges as you stared at how happy the two of you looked together.

You hadn't even noticed Patrick had joined you until you felt his presence looming behind you. "Everything alright?" he asked softly, genuine concern in his voice, "It's late, and you don't usually just show up at my doorstep."

"How come you haven't taken these down, Patrick?" you asked, gesturing to the wedding pictures still displayed. You looked at him over your shoulder, noticing his eyes on you instead of the pictures. "I was too lazy to take them off," he mumbled as he watched you carefully place the picture back before turning to him. "Really?" you asked softly.

"No," he said, "I just didn't wanna take them down." You bit the inside of your cheek as you considered his words. "If I did, it would mean everything was over," he added after a moment. "It is," you said matter-of-factly, but he only smirked down at you. "Then why are you here?" he asked as he moved closer to you. Patrick always had a problem with personal space, practically in your face as he peered down at you.

It was like the damn finally broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were kissing him. And it t felt so right, like it was what you had been looking for this whole time, what you needed. You tugged him closer desperately before looping your arms around his neck. Patrick groaned at that, arms wrapping around your waist as he deepened the kiss, tongue already looking for access. You granted it, parting your lips and allowing him to lick inside your mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, something he had been starved of for so fucking long.

He suddenly pulled away, and you whined, trying to pull him back to your lips. "Please don't," you said out of breath, already knowing he had some smug line or I told you so he wanted to get in. You didn't give him the chance to before your lips were on his once again. His hands move down from your waist to your ass, squeezing the doughy flesh in handfuls and smiling against your lips when you shuddered in his grasp, your grip on him only tightening.

His hands move down to below your ass and he taps the back of your thighs lightly. You take the sign and jump into his arms as he wraps your legs around his waist before he's carrying you through the hallway blindy and to the room you once shared.

You land on the bed with a light bounce, and soon Patrick is on top of you as he continues to kiss you feverishly. His weight on top of you felt heavenly as you clung to his warm body. Your hands tugged at his t-shirt, and he lifted himself again to quickly tug it off. You followed suit, getting rid of your sweatshirt and old sleep shirt, exposing your bare chest to him before you lay back down.

His eyes fall down to your breasts, pupils dilating as his mouth parted in a shaky breath. He lowers back down to you, lips continuing their assault to your skin as his hands greedily grab at the soft fat of your tits. "Is this why you've been on my case so much, hm?" he spoke against the skin of your neck, "why you've been so fucking mean to me? Y'just needed to get laid?"

You wanted to roll your eyes at his smug tone, retort with some sarcastic quip, but he was telling the truth. It was hard to find a smart reply when he was already making you feel better than any guy had in months. You pulled his face up to yours in an attempt to shut him up, and he obliged happily, kissing you as his hips started rutting against yours impatiently.

The friction felt perfect, your whole body set alight when you felt his mouth on your left breast, lips taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while his hand squeezed at your other breast. It all felt so good, but it wasn't enough, and you were beginning to grow impatient. Any complaint quickly died on your lips the moment you felt Patrick's mouth trail kisses down your body as he played with the hem of your sweatpants. He looked up at you, mouth still planting kisses to the soft pudge of your stomach as he wordlessly asked for permission.

You nodded eagerly, hips lifting from the bed to help him as he pulled down both your pants and underwear in one swift move. He laid back down, finding home between your legs as you spread them to make space for his broad figure. He lifted your legs by the back of your knees before placing them over his shoulders, teeth nipping and kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs as he moved closer to where you needed him most.

You can feel his hot breath against your cunt, you know he's staring at it in all its glory with rapt attention, and you squirm under his attention, pussy clenching around nothing and the sight makes Patrick smile. "Fucking beautiful," he muttered as he pressed a kiss to your mound, just above your clit, making you whine in frustration.

"Patrick," you huffed, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peered down at him. "So pretty. Everything about you's so fucking pretty," he seemingly ignored your plea as he placed another kiss right to your clit before he was licking a broad stripe up your pussy. Your head fell right back down onto the sheets with a soft thud as you moaned softly, the sweet sound making him groan into your pussy as his hups bucked into the mattress below you.

He was like a man starved, tounge licking through your folds and up the seam of your cunt until he reached your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his tongue traced tight circles onto the small bud. You were reeling, hand moving down to grab onto his hair as the other squeezed at your breast, willing yourself to keep quiet even though it felt like you were about to explode. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, and Patrick pressed his arm over your lower stomach to keep you still as he doubled his efforts, tongue dipping into your drenched hole as he started fucking you with it.

It felt like liquid heat was streaming through your whole body and settling deep in your lower belly as you tried not to make too much noise, still considerate of your daughter sleeping just a few doors away.

You took quick breaths, trying to find the air that was being knocked right out of you, breasts raising and falling in rapid breaths as you felt yourself approach that familiar peak. Patrick kept his attention on you the whole time, eyes trained on the way you grabbed and squeezed at your tits, eyes meeting yours when you'd look down at him with a half lidded gaze and parted lips singing quiet praises and unintelligible profanities his way.

He took your clit back into his mouth, sucking lightly and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, hand moving to cover your mouth as the other tightened its grip on Patrick's hair. "I'm gonna cum," you managed to force through heaving breaths. In response, Patrick moaned into your pussy and the vibrations were enough to push you over the edge, a silent scream leaving your dry throat as your body spasmed uncontrollably. He worked you through it gently, lapping up at your cunt untill you slumped back down in bed with a satisfied sigh.

He barely gave you time to recover before he was moving back up your body, mouth finding yours in a sloppy kiss as he moaned into your mouth, hands all over your body as you kissed him back through your still hazy mind.

"You still out of it, huh?" he asked, smiling against your mouth and laughing when he heard you groan. "You should've come to me sooner, baby," he continued as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there.

In a swift move, you pushed him off of you until he was on his back before you went to straddle him. He smiled, hands immediately finding place on your hips as he looked up at your heavenly figure above him, body illuminated by the bright streetlights coming through the half closed blinds.

"You never know when to fucking shut up, Patrick," you breathed as you lifted yourself off him, pulling off his briefs and sitting back down on his lower stomach, making sure to stay out of reach from where he wanted you most. He tried to not so subtly move you and move himself so that he could just slip inside, but you weren't going to let him have it so easily. You dragged your nails down his torso lightly, enjoying the way the muscles in his stomach twitched at your touch and the way he shuddered beneath you.

You finally move downwards, planting yourself on his lap and when he feels the wetness of pussy he audibly groans before stifling it, still mindful of his volume. You take his dick into your hand, slowly stroking him before you're lining him up. He tries to give the final push inside, but you angle your hips away when he does. When he drops his hips back down to the mattress defeatedly, you once again lift your body before positioning yourself.

Your slowly lower yourself onto him, and Patrick moans at the feeling of your cunt enveloping him. "Fuck, yeah. That's it," he breathes, hands squeezing at the fat of your hips as he watches as you leisurely take him in his entirety. He watches your pretty face contort in pleasure as you work yourself onto his dick, determined to be filled to the hilt.

When your hips finally meet his, you both let out a sigh of relief, and you have to take a moment to get used to the reacquainted stretch. It's so good, everything feels too good and you're already dangerously close, but you'd be dammed if you were going to let Patrick know that.

After a few moments, you carefully lift yourself until just the tip is inside before dropping back down with a soft plop. Patrick curses loudly as you steadily build up your tempo, eyes not leaving his as you slowly bounce yourself on his dick. You moan sweetly, heat pooling in your lower belly, and Patrick smirks as he watches you lose yourself as you fuck yourself on him.

"Yeah, that's it. Take what you need, baby. You fuckin' needed this didn't you?" he said with a breathless laugh, watching the way your tits bounced as you moved above him. "Just needed to get fucked. Those assholes you've been going out with weren't doing it for you? Huh?"

He sounds so proud of himself, cocky because he finally had you where he's wanted you for years, basically, without even having to really do anything. "Shut up, Patrick, just shut up," you say through a moan, hips ceasing in favour of grinding down against him instead. "You're always fucking talking, acting so damn smug and like you were so unaffected by it all," you say, doubling your efforts and causing Patrick to moan underneath you. He lifts his knees slightly, and you balance yourself on his upper thighs as you change your angle, your clit rubbing against his public bone perfectly and making you whine in pleasure.

His hands grip on your hips tightens as he aids your grinding, other hand coming up to harshly squeeze at your right breast. Your eyes catch a glimpse of the golden band on his finger, and you laugh breathlessly. "Fuck, Patrick, you're still wearing your fucking ring. You still have out wedding pictures up, you haven't even changed anything in the house since I've left. And you wannna act cocky?"

He whines underneath you, eyes closing as he bucks up into you, causing you to moan. The coil in your stomach is tightening with every drag of your hips against his, and every time he bucks up into you, he punches the air right out of your lungs. He's in no better condition, either, audibly moaning when you build up the energy to start bouncing on him again.

"Fuck, I'm close," he breathes, doubling his efforts as he fucks into you every time you lower yourself on him in an effort to get you on the same page. "Tell me you missed me," you moan, looking down at him with pleading eyes. He nodded, mouth dry as he tried to construct a sentence from his pussy whipped mind.

"Fuck, f'course I fucking missed you," he slurred, "Can't see myself with anyone else, baby. Don't want anyone else. Only want you. Need you so bad."

"I'm gonna cum," you squeeked, whining at the painful burn in your thighs as your pace began to falter. Patrick saw this and acted quickly, pulling you down to his chest as he planted his feet on the bed. He held you tightly to him as he fucked up into you at a frantic pace, causing you to moan into the crook of his neck as you felt that coil in your stomach pulling taut. You came with a scream as you bit into Patrick's shoulder to muffle the sound, him not far behind as he gave a few uncoordinated thrusts before he was cumming as well.

The room fell quiet, only the sound of your heave breathing filling the space. You planted a few apologetic kisses to his shoulder, feeling the vibrations in his chest as he hummed softly. He kissed the top of your head, mouth lingering there a little longer before he was pulling away. You got off of him carefully, wincing at both the mess and slight burn between your legs before you plopped down on the sheets.

Patrick made his way into the bathroom, returning with a hot towel he used to carefully clean you up with before he plopped down next to you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you softly. You stayed like this a while, head resting on his chest as you absent-mindedly played with the band on his finger and he quietly drifted off. You suddenly lifted yourself from him and woke Patrick from almost falling asleep. "What's wrong?" he asked groggily, watching as you moved around the dark room in one of his old shirts, looking for your clothes.

"I should probably go," you whispered, struggling to really see anything in the dark room. "It's almost three AM, I'm not letting you drive right now," he reasoned, "besides, I don't want you to go."

You sighed, rubbing over your face as you mulled over his words. "I don't wanna go either," you admitted softly, "but what are we going to tell her when she wakes up and sees I'm here?"

"Tell her we had a sleepover," he shrugged. "Patrick," you said seriously and he sighed. "Okay, we'll think about it in the morning, okay?" he said tiredly before extending his hand to you, "please don't go." You sighed, looking at his outstretched hand before you took it, allowing him to pull you back against the heat of his body before he was pulling the sheets over you, falling asleep in the bed you once shared.

[leilanihours]

okayyy i see your morgan cheli category is coming soon but i have a request

the fem reader is a new uconn transfer and she’s obviously on the basketball team but her and morgan are just meeting and they happen to be on one of kayla’s live and everybody in the comments think their together and they end of catching feelings but you finish the restttttt 🤭

# I KNOW WE'RE HAVING FUN, BUT WHAT'S THE RUSH? KISS AND THEN MY CHEEKS ARE SO FLUSHED

pairing: morgan cheli x teammate!reader

word count: 991

warnings: none !

summary: you and your roommate may or may not have developed feelings for each other, displaying your secret crushes through fleeting touches and light affection.

⭑ from lani: first fic for my bby morgan bc shes so so so cute 🙂‍↕️ also chose a lyric from bags bc i feel like shes so bags coded

masterlist !

"HEY GUYS! WELCOME back to another live! we're here in y/n and morgan's apartment tonight and we just finished eating dinner so now we're gonna chill for a bit," your friend kayla says in front of her phone camera.

you smile at the girl sitting at your dining table, waving to the live once you realize you can be seen in the background.

"jeez, y/n, they really like you for some reason," kayla jokes as she watches more comments about you pour in.

"hey! i'm actually very likable, thank you very much!" you defend, "right, morgan?"

"mmm, i don't know about that, you were pretty unlikeable when you ate the last of my fries earlier," the girls shrugs, plopping down next to you on the couch.

"you guys are the worst," you shake your head and turn your attention back to your phone.

as you scroll through instagram, you hear kayla answering questions from the viewers with jana, who has just recently made her appearance in the livestream.

"y/n, they're asking you what perfume you use!" jana calls out to you.

"that is a secret i will never tell," you exclaim dramatically with a wink.

the girls in the room giggle at your comment, including morgan from beside you, who has subconsciously inched closer to your frame and is now resting her head on your shoulder watching you scroll on your phone.

"you do smell really good, y/n," she whispers, your signature scent flooding her senses due to the close proximity between you two.

"thanks, morgie, i like your perfume, too," you respond, glancing down at her, "it reminds of, like, pure happiness i don't know how to explain it. it's very you, though."

she blushes at your words, a grin creeping onto her pink cheeks. as the two of you go back to watching a random tiktok on your phone, jana and kayla observe your position and decide to quietly comment on it.

"aww look at our favorite freshies, they're so cute," jana gushes with a whisper, secretly pointing a finger to you guys on camera.

"they really are our favorites, they're literally angels," kayla agrees, smiling at how you and morgan were practically cuddling now.

you two were completely oblivious to their conversation, too focused on each other's presence at the moment.

you were also oblivious to the hundreds of comments flooding kayla's screen asking about your friendship with the girl...specifically if it was something more than friendship.

about ten minutes later, one of your other teammates, kk, joins jana and kayla in front of the live as well, her energy putting a smile on everyone's faces.

"hey girlypops, how y'all doin' tonight??" she asks the live with a little shake of her shoulders, "i was thinkin' we could do another li'l talent show?"

"ooo, i'm down, let's do it," kayla replies, moving the camera so that the three of them all fit in frame.

"y/n! morgan! come here!" jana beckons.

morgan gets up from her resting place on your shoulder, the loss of contact momentarily making you frown. as she walks over to sit at the dining table with the rest of the girls, you follow her like a lost puppy, already missing her touch.

that's not weird, right? you guys were best friends, and best friends like to hug...and cuddle...and kiss...right?

you couldn't deny that you had growing feelings for the curly-haired girl, and you only hoped that they would one day be reciprocated or at least acknowledged.

you squeeze into the camera frame, finding a spot right behind morgan. your hands rest on the back of her chair, fingers absentmindedly toying with her light brown hair.

you occasionally let out a laugh or break into a smile as you watch fans showcase their oh-so-special talents to your group, but you're ultimately focused on the girl in front of you.

she's leaned back into your touch, her hands wrapped around yours from when she tugged your arms around her shoulders.

your head now sat on top of her own, the position feeling very natural and comfortable despite what the people watching thought.

"y'all gotta cool it with this cute stuff, people are gonna think y'all dating or somethin'" kk points out with a laugh and shake of her head.

"shut up, kk," you reply playfully. however, you decide that she's ultimately right, so you untangle yourself from the girl before waving goodbye to the live and your friends for the night.

"you're going to bed already?" morgan whispers, her head tilted up at you. you pause, not being able to function at the sight of her lightly freckled face and entrancing brown eyes.

"yeah, i'm feeling tired," you respond after realizing you were staring, "you wanna come with?"

"mhm," she nods, "i'll follow, you can go ahead."

"okay," you say, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, not missing the way her cheeks flushed into a light pink color at the feeling of your lips on her skin.

giggling at her reaction, you make your way into your room and sigh as you tiredly flop onto your bed. you begin to feel your eyelids drooping, exhaustion consuming you.

it's only a few minutes later when you hear your door creak open, causing you to peel open your eyes. you are met with the smiling face of your roommate who wastes no time getting under the covers and snuggling into your embrace.

with her head on your chest and your arm wrapped around her, you can't help but think about how couple-y this feels. you imagine what it would be like if you two were ever to become an actual couple, the thought making your body warm up and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

you sigh contently as you pull the girl closer to you, finally succumbing to the grasps of sleep with the help of her comforting presence.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

M.I.A.

Summary: When Colter Shaw calls the reader for help on a job, she thinks nothing of helping out. Only he never shows up and Colter may have just become the latest disappearance in this small town. It’s up to her and Russell to work together to find him before his case goes cold like all the others before…

He's My Man Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 6,500ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping, violence, torture, mentions of death

A/N: Welcome back to more Russell Shaw! This story is considered a timestamp to He's My Man and it's highly recommended that story be read prior to this one. With Tracker coming up again soon I wanted to dive back into this world with these characters and thought this would be a fun way to check in with the gang. Please enjoy!...

________

“Thanks,” you said to the waitress who refilled your coffee. The diner was quiet, the mid-afternoon lull between the lunch and dinner crowd. You poked at the slice of chocolate pie in front of you and scrolled through your phone, an anxious feeling growing in your gut.

Colter had called last night, asking if you’d be willing to come out and act as his date at a gala event where he was investigating a young woman’s disappearance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous to accept. You’d only been doing reward work for six months and you’d had success so far with tracking down a few show dogs, a horse, a signed Mickey Mantle baseball card and a stolen car. But you hadn’t dipped your toe into the truly hard stuff yet. People.

After Colter got you to put the phone on speaker, he and Russell had wore you down and convinced you this would be a good first run. It was Colter’s case, you were simply there to help and offer input.

Flirting with a rich playboy Colter suspected of kidnapping the missing woman while he searched the house was also up there on his request list.

It was only a three hour drive to the small town from home and Russell had an important meeting with a brewery investor at lunch so you decided to help him do some last minute prep in the morning before agreeing to catch up with Colter for lunch at a diner. Yet, it was a few minutes past three and you’d heard nothing from him since around midnight the night before.

“Fuck it,” you said, slapping down a ten dollar bill and dialing.

“Hello, hello, qark,” answered Russell, his voice cheery and bright.

“Your lunch went well I’m assuming?” He hummed. “Don’t leave me hanging. What’d you settle on?”

“He gets 5% profit sharing after the first year for five years. By then he said we’d be well established and probably wouldn’t need him anymore. He was a good guy, invited us to get dinner with him and his wife sometime.”

“That’s great, honey,” you said, turning when the bell over the door rang, pouting to find it was a pair of older men that took a seat at a booth. “You haven’t heard from Colter at all, have you?”

“No…he never showed for lunch?” You sighed. “He could have been arrested.”

“Russell,” you chided.

“He gets arrested and Reenie bails him out all the time,” he said. “I just texted her. I bet he’s sitting in the station right now because he pissed off some local power hungry…shit.”

“Shit what?” you asked, taking a big, stress induced bite of pie. 

“Reenie said she hasn’t heard from him.” Russell groaned in the background. You closed your eyes. Today was supposed to be a good day for him. The last thing you wanted was him worrying about his little brother.

“I bet he ate some bad food, puked his guts up in the airstreamer and is sleeping it off. He said he was staying at the Sunny Days Park. I’ll go meet up with him there-”

“I’m coming out there,” said Russell. You rolled your eyes. “If he’s so sick he can’t pick up a phone then he needs help and that girl he’s looking for needs help too.”

“Fine,” you said, your heart rate spiking when you stood. “He’s probably just being his usual anti-social self, right?”

“Yeah. He’s totally known for being flaky on jobs,” deadpanned Russell. “Just…I’m not going to ask you to wait at the diner for me but be careful. Keep your gun on you and you call me when you get to his trailer. I have a bad feeling.”

“Me too,” you whispered. “I’ll call you in ten, Russ.”

You’d frowned when you found Colter’s truck parked in front of the airstream fifteen minutes later. Your pout remained when you cleared the the area and the inside of the trailer, carefully tucking your gun away into the holster on the back of your jeans. “He’s not here, Russell.”

“Anything look off?” he asked through the headphones in your ears. The space at first glance didn’t look out of the ordinary. Computer and maps on the kitchenette table. Coffee mug upside down on the drying rack next to the sink. You stopped short and squatted down, cocking your head.

“There are two pairs of shoes tucked under the table. Boots and trail running shoes.”

“Okay…” You stood up and sighed. 

“Russell, I lived in this trailer for a few days and Colter is a minimalist. There are two pairs of shoes here and he only owns two pairs of shoes. So he’s walking around barefoot? That’s-”

“Not good,” sighed Russell. “Do you see any sign of struggle? Blood? Anything weird? Or missing?”

“Not that I can tell. I didn’t exactly do an inventory of his closet when…” Your eyes zeroed in on a tiny black speck in the corner. “He has a security camera.”

“Call Bobby, see if he can get the footage from a cloud server or something. I’ll call back in a few once I’m on the road.”

“Drive safe, hun.” 

“You be safe. Anything feels fishy, get to a public place and stay there until I get in.”

“I know. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Two minutes later you were on Colter’s computer, Bobby sending you a link to the 24 hour cloud account where Colter’s subscription was saved to once a day.

There were two feeds, one right over the door to the air streamer and the other a wide angled shot staring down the entire length of the trailer. You backed it up to midnight, watching Colter sitting right where you currently were, texting and finishing off his beer. He stretched and stood, putting the empty under the sink.

He hit off a light and you sped it up, Colter padding out once to get a glass of water during the night. You smiled when he got up around six, an unusually cuddly version of Colter appearing on screen. He had a blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders as he shuffled over to his coffee machine, getting a cup brewing.

It reminded you of Russell in the morning. He too had a habit of walking around with a blanket first thing. You wondered if that was a Shaw thing or a habit Colter picked up from his big brother when they were kids.

You watched Colter disappear into the bedroom, exiting in a black tight pullover along with fitted pants for running. He sat at the booth and tugged on his sneakers before knocking back his coffee. He glanced at his phone quickly and tucked it into his pocket before he was gone, the interior still. The video was motionless for another hour when Colter came back inside, a thin layer of sweat on his face. Sneakers were removed and socks tossed into the bedroom, Colter taking deep gulps from a bottle of water. He tucked it back in the fridge and headed for the bedroom when suddenly the airstream door opened. 

Three men in black masks bounded inside, one holding a bulky looking gun. Colter didn’t get more than a step in before cords shot out and you realized he’d been tased. Your heart caught in your throat as he fell to the floor hard, body rigid. His face was etched in pain as he slowly moved his arm but the men were on him fast. Punch to the face, hands zip tied behind his back, tape over his mouth. Colter was out cold when they threw a hood over his head and he was lifted off the ground by a man on either side of him. They quickly left, no one appearing until you found yourself on tape hours later.

“Colter,” you breathed out, looking out the windows, as if he’d suddenly appear safe and sound there. Shakily you dialed Russell, your head in your hands. 

“Hey. You hear from Bobby at all?” You tried to keep your breathing calm, remember the stress management techniques you’d learned in med school. 

You winced, Russell’s voice loud on the other end. “Y/N, answer me.”

“I watched the tape. Russ, s-someone took him. They took Colter right out of the airstream this morning and-”

“Where are you?” You lifted your head, Russell growling. “Where?”

“In the air-”

“Leave right now, right fucking now,” he said. You grabbed the phone, Colter’s computer and a stack of papers nearby before rushing out of there. “Are you out?”

“Yes, I’m in my car,” you said with a pant, tossing everything in your passenger seat and taking off out of the campground.

“Go back to that diner and I’ll meet you there in two hours. If anyone tries anything-”

“I know,” you sighed. “Don’t speed to get here. The last thing we need is you in an accident.”

“Diner. Two hours. Be there.”

Two Hours Later

You munched on a basket of once warm fries as you heard the bell over the door jingle. You eased slightly when Russell headed your direction, wrapping you up in a big hug. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Russ, I swear.” You sat back in your corner booth, Russell sliding in the opposite side, getting a cup of coffee and burger for himself before you ordered dinner. “How are you holding up?”

Russell didn’t say anything, just had that look on his face he did right before he killed Owen. Honestly, you shared that sentiment. Colter had your back when you were strangers and now when you were family? Yeah, someone was going to pay and dearly.

“Bobby’s been running the video through his programs but couldn’t ID any of the guys. They ditched Colter’s phone outside the airstreamer so no leads there,” you said, passing the computer over to Russell. He watched the video, his eyes twitching momentarily before he took a long, deep breath.

“Can we trace these guys phones?” You shook your head. 

“Bobby tried. No cell activity in the nearby area before or after they…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, Russell reaching across the table and taking your hand in his. “The team’s been trying to find who took Colter while I’ve been looking into his research on the case. I figure he found out who took the woman or got real close without realizing it and that person took him.”

“Smart girl.” Russell cracked a smile, a heavy weight quickly settling back over the table. “But I have a problem with it.”

You nodded, keeping your lips sealed as his food was delivered and you got a plate of eggs and hashbrowns set down before you. “Me too. It doesn’t make sense to take him unless they wanted to know something he knows and they figured he wouldn’t crack immediately.”

“Yup. Aren’t you supposed to go to a party with him tonight?” You stopped with a forkful halfway to your mouth. Russell cocked his head. “He got an invite to that party. For two people. They must think he has a partner and that the partner knows everything Colter does.”

You set your fork down, Russell forcing a smile. “They’re looking for me. Those people are probably hurting him-”

“Hey,” said Russell, voice quiet. Gentle. “They took him because he found out something these people don’t want him to know and he didn’t realize it, not because of you. Let’s figure out what that is and then we’ll come up with a game plan.”

“Okay. Let’s figure this out.”

Forty minutes later, two clean plates and Russell making more than one odd face at the computer screen did it hit you. You slid Colter’s notebook with the name of the party over, Russell’s eyebrow quirking. “What?”

“These people don’t know who I am, otherwise I’d be gone. Colter wanted me to go to this party with him, right? Well, let’s go to the party.” Russell leaned back, closing his eyes. “Isn’t the most likely scenario that the person that took this girl also took Colter? And they clearly are powerful enough to have a few guys working for them. Let’s go to the party full of rich people and see what we can sus out.”

“Y/N.” Russell sighed, rubbing his temple with his palm. “It’s way too dangerous. Just because someone hasn’t come after you doesn’t mean they won’t. We need to figure out what Colter stumbled on-”

“This party,” you said, holding up the notebook, slapping it down. Russell clenched his jaw, relaxing after a beat. “The only research Colter did was on this girl and then there’s the party invite. He wanted to go there for a reason.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, picking it up, flipping through the pages. “How’d he get the invitation in the first place?”

“It’s a charity fundraiser. Anyone in town can go as far as I can tell,” you said. “All I know is he wanted me to be a distraction.”

“Distraction…” Russell typed on Colter’s computer, biting his bottom lip. “Party’s at some older rich dude’s house. Francis Duvel. Sounds like a real upstanding community member.”

“That’s not surprising the wealthy guy is hosting a charity event.” Russell’s eye twitched before he spun around the screen. Your eyes flickered down, reading a headline.

Duvel Industries Once Again Cleared of Safety Allegations; Whistleblower Drops Suit as CEO Vows Quality & Integrity Valued Over Profits

“I couldn’t figure it out earlier but there’s been a pattern of people going missing every so often in this town. Men. Women. Old. Young. Never kids or teens. Always adults. Your missing girl, Alexis Pearson works at-”

“Duvel Industries,” you said, flipping through a paper. “Executive assistant. You think-”

“Poor girl probably found out they were cutting corners somewhere and she said something to the wrong person.” He handed you back the computer and sure enough, all of the people that had “left” town or simply gone missing had at one point or another worked for Duvel Industries.

“How did no one figure this out before? It’s obvious what’s going on,” you said, Russell looking around. “Wait. You think…”

“Article said the local cops found no issues and never have. This charity auction is for the community including-”

“Fuck,” you muttered. “He’s got the sheriff in his pocket, likely a few more cops. No wonder Colter couldn’t just turn over what he found. He couldn’t trust them.”

“He should have called me,” said Russell, closing the computer. He shook his head, staring out at the cloudy evening sky. “I have a friend in the bureau. I could have…”

“So let’s call your friend, get the FBI up here to take a look at Duvel and in the meantime, try to find Colter and Alexis.” For the first time he looked worried and it made your heart clench. “What is it?”

“Alexis is probably already dead and when FBI agents show up at Duvel’s front door, he’s going to kill Colt and the girl if they aren’t already. Y/N, we have to find him tonight.” 

“Okay,” you said, getting up and pulling him into your side of the booth, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Screw the party. That was Colter’s plan. Ours needs to be more direct.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Duvel isn’t stupid enough to keep him or Alexis at a place where he’s having the whole town come to, right? So where would you hide them as a CEO?” He smiled, kissing your cheek before pulling out his phone. 

“Bobby, it’s Russell. I need the address of every property owned by Duvel Industries asap.”

One Hour Later

“How do you know it’s this one?” you asked Russell as you got out of his car. He went to the trunk, resting his head against the open thing. “What’s wrong?”

“I know because this place is isolated, it’s been under construction for years with no progress but the tire tracks we saw were fresh. It’s Duvel’s dumping ground.” He straightened up, hands on his hips. “Qark.”

He didn’t have to say it. He wanted you to stay here, out of danger. He’d wanted you away from this kind of life and said it more than once.

Russell reached inside the trunk and opened a black duffel, holding out a black vest to you. It was much smaller than the one he and Colter fit in though. You took the vest, followed by Russell handing you a thigh holster. “I thought you were going to tell me to stay in the car.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want you to stay here,” he said, bending down to buckle the straps against your thigh, pulling it taut. He looked up with a half-smile before taking your gun from the back holster and putting it inside, tossing the other one in the trunk. 

“What are…” He zipped up your jacket all the way and pulled the vest on over your shoulders, fixing your hood before tightening the sides so the vest hung tight to your body. “Russell.”

He shrugged, green eyes nervous but gentle. “You have let me teach you self-defense, how to reload and shoot, tactics and stealth so you’d be safe doing reward work. You’ve done it all without complaint. I want you to stay at the car but I know my queen of darkness. You can do this. You told me once before you wanted me to show you how to do things, not do them for you. So let’s go do this together.”

You smiled, running your hand over the vest. “How long have you had this?”

“I bought it the first reward job you took. I figured someday you’d need it.” He put on his own gear and locked the car, inhaling deeply. “If you want to change your mind-”

“That building is massive. You can’t go in alone.” He nodded, closing his eyes. “Am I liability to you? Serious question. If I go in there with you, does it make things harder if Colter is in there?”

Russell peeled open his eyes, smirking as he planted both hands on your face and kissed you hard. 

“I always worry, qark. Whether you’re in there or out there.” He touched his forehead to yours, hot breath fanning over you. “You do not have to go in. Absolutely you do not have to. But if my girl wants to do this with me, then I’m glad I’ve got her for a partner.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, Russell lifting you up into a hug. 

“But if shit goes down, you run.” You shrugged, Russell groaning. “Alright, alright, Rambo. Follow my lead and stick close. Bobby’s going to contact my friend in two hours if he doesn't hear from us so let’s get a move on.”

“Age before beauty,” you said. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Yeah, keep it up youngin’ and next time you’re in that outfit I’ll teach you a lesson.” You glanced down to his groin, Russell growling. “Y/N.”

“Sorry.” He nodded, checking his gun before letting in hang by his side.

“Stay low and quiet. Clear your corners and don’t hesitate to use your weapon. You sure you want to go in?”

“Let’s do this.” Russell checked your gear one more time before you headed into the forest, jogging through it for a moment. You stopped at the edge when Russell held up a hand. He reached into his back pocket, revealing a small scope. You knelt by his side, looking around as he mumbled to himself.

“Good news and bad news. Good news is there’s only one vehicle and it’s a car which means most likely there’s four guys or less. Could be more but odds aren’t in favor. No cameras from what I can tell. Bad news is two outside guards. It’s going to be hard to get in.” You pursed your lips. “What are you thinking?”

“If we each get one-” 

“Y/N,” Russell scolded. You frowned, his face softening. “Those guys are huge. Odds are they grab you before you get the guy out cold.”

“Russell. I fought off Owen when I was roofied when I was younger. You have taught me so many moves. I wouldn’t risk Colter if I didn’t know that I can take out a guy that size. Trust me. Please.” He lowered his head, shoulders sagging.

“If he’s not going down, shoot him.” You agreed and then the two of you were jogging across the dark grass, coming to a stop against the concrete wall of the building. Russell pointed you forward and you went ahead of him, gun in front of you, squeezing the cold metal tight.

The guard rounded the corner quickly though, startled by the sight of you. You ducked fast, Russell’s fist flying out where your head had been. It connected hard with the guard’s jaw and he slumped against the wall, crumpling down in a heap. You stood up, Russell tapping your shoulder before stepping in front of you. After a moment the guard was restrained, tape over his mouth. Russell peaked around the corner before holding up a hand for you to stay back before he disappeared. 

Ten seconds later he returned, body slightly less tense. He nodded and you jogged over to him, keeping behind him as you went through the door and past the other out cold guard with hands and feet secured.

The building was large, some warehouse space, offices on either side. Russell sighed silently before going left. You walked backwards behind him for a few minutes as he cleared room after room after room with nothing to show.

“It’s taking too long,” he whispered. “I can’t check every room fast enough if the guards check in on a schedule.”

“I can finish the hall. Do the other side. You’re faster without me,” you murmured. Russell stared at you for five seconds then planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Be safe. I’ll be right back.” Silently, he went the way you’d came from and disappeared around the corner. You turned your attention back on the six or so offices to go with a thick swallow. Without Russell by your side, your nerves came front and center. But you couldn’t stand there forever. There was probably someone else inside and Colter wouldn’t hesitate if you were in his shoes.

You steadied yourself and cleared a dark, empty office, then another. The second to last door pushed open easily, bright light hitting you in the face. 

There was barely enough time to register Colter in a chair, someone behind him with a knife and then the man’s hand was moving fast towards his throat.

The trigger pulled hard as you squeezed it once, twice, three times. You couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears as you did wide sweeps of the room. No one else was in there and after finding the man slumped on the ground was dead, you rushed to Colter who’s head hung low.

“Colter. Colter,” you urged. He was shaking as you tilted his chin up, a thin line of red on his throat but not deep. You closed your eyes. Fuck, a second later and Colter would have already bled out by now. 

But something wasn’t right. His clothes were wet, skin ice cold. Your eyes darted upwards when you felt cold air conditioning kick on overhead. It was only then that you noticed the dead man was wearing a winter jacket for some reason.

You checked Colter over after cutting him free, a few bruises on the face, bruised ribs from his labored breathing and you winced when you patted his shin and felt how swollen it was. You cut up his pants leg and saw the deep bruising, very highly a broken bone in there.

Another gun shot rang out nearby and you spun around with your gun, aiming at the door. Russell appeared a few moments later, sighing in relief. But his face fell when he saw Colter violently shaking in the chair, arms wrapped tight around himself.

“What’s-”

“He’s hypothermic,” you said, cutting up his pants, Colter shaking his head. “We need to get him out of these wet clothes and warmed up now.”

“Y/N-”

“Russell, he’s not stable.” You finished cutting off his pants and had his pullover halfway off. “Call your FBI friend and tell him we need a med evac to a level 1 trauma center. In the meantime, go kill the A/C and get my med kit from the car.”

“Got it,” he said, turning to leave. “I found Alexis.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, Russell smiling. “She’s roughed up but she convinced these guys-”

“I’m sorry but does she need medical attention, yes or no?” He shook his head. “Then go do as I ask.”

Russell took off down the hall, Colter’s wet clothes dropping to the ground. You got behind him and put your arms under him and around his chest, hoisting him up.

He screamed at the sudden pain in his side and leg but you could deal with that later. Right now, he was too fucking cold. You walked backwards out of the room, Colter whining the whole time which frankly scared the fuck out of you.

Colter was stoic. Tough as nails like Russell. Calm in moments of terror.

Scared, hurt, out of control Colter made you heart feel like it was being stabbed.

“S’okay, Colt. I got you. You’ll feel better real soon,” you said, dragged him down the hall and into an office you’d found a couch in earlier. You jerked when you noticed a shadow at the doorway.

Alexis was hiding halfway behind the doorframe, wide eyed at you. “I-I can help.”

“You know what a space heater is?” She nodded quickly. “Find them and bring them back here. Quickly. I saw a few in this hallway.”

She ducked away as you lowered Colter to the ground and plugged in the space heater you’d saw in there, turning it to the max. 

You found a wooden chair and kicked at it with your boot until it broke apart. Taking two long pieces, you placed them on either side of Colter’s leg and removed your vest, jacket and shirt. 

“And you said my red jacket was ugly,” you teased, laying it over his shivering form. “Too visible if I recall.”

His fingers squeezed the material so tight it started to tear, your heart breaking for him. You leaned down close, wiping the wetness out of his hair with your shirt. With a sigh you kissed his forehead, Colter mumbling something you couldn’t make out.

“I know you know you’re in shock. Everything is fine. All I want you to think about right now is a story I’m going to tell you. Okay? Just lay back and listen.” You soaked up more water with your shirt and leaned back, removing your tank top, leaving you in just a black bra. “You know Russell bought me this bra back when we went on that trip to Paris last month. I know we told you about it and you did a lot of humming like you couldn’t care less, remember?”

You shredded the tank top with your hands into strips, laying them over and under his broken leg. “I’m going to splint your leg now.”

“So there was I,” you said, pulling tight, Colter nearly doubling over as you did the few other spots quickly. “In Paris with your brother of all people and he’s bought me all these nice pajamas and lounge sets and other things you don’t need to know about when he says, let’s take a few days trip to Africa. Let’s go to the desert. Now, I don’t know about you but if you’ve never been to the desert, it’s hot as fuck.”

You made sure his leg was straight before fixing your coat on him, Colter shivering into your hand. Alexis returned with three space heaters and you quickly go them on and around him.

“When you’re in the desert, you can feel the sun prickle your skin. You know that feeling? The heat from the rays literally warming you, getting inside. It makes you so hot. It reflects off the sand, like hot sand at a beach, right back at you. It’s like you’re on a baking sheet, hot out of the oven, baked on all sides.”

Colter was still shivering but he was starting to relax, less violent shakes coming out now. 

“You ever have a sunburn like that? I bet you did. Your nose and cheeks got all red, your skin so hot. I know you Shaw boys were always outside. Russell gets these freckles when he’s out in the sun. Do you get them too? A nice hot summer day, out on the water with a warm breeze.”

Russell entered the room, kneeling beside you. “Chopper will be here in thirty.”

“Okay,” you said, Colter’s head turning to the side. “Rest up for me big guy.”

You got up and pulled Russell to the back corner, nodding at Alexis sitting on the couch. “What?”

“Russell, you should take her to the nearest hospital.” He frowned, biting his tongue though as you held up your hands. “She’s not as bad as your brother but she’s dehydrated and cold.”

“No, I need to stay here in case Duvel’s guys show up. You take her-”

“I’m sorry, are you a doctor? Do you know what to do if Colter has a heart attack? A seizure? Those are very real possibilities right now, Russell. I need to warm him up and calm him down the right way and I can’t worry about her right now. I need you to take care of her. Please.”

He closed his eyes. “Fine but I’m tossing those two guys in the trunk of their car. And put your vest back on. And keep an eye on the door-“

“Shaw.” He opened his eyes, finding you glaring at him. 

“Please help him the best you can,” he whispered. You hugged him, Russell squeezing you tight before he was moving and out the door with Alexis under his arm. Only the hum of the space heaters and Colter’s incoherent mumblings could be heard as you sat down beside him. 

“Here you go,” you said, resting the vest over his injured leg to try and give him some warmth. You held your gun in your hand as the other rested on his forehead. Fuck, he was still too cold. Slowly, he peeled open his eyes, looking so young for the briefest of moments. “I have one last idea. But it’ll hurt.”

He nodded very slowly before closing his eyes tight. “I’ll be right back.”

You jogged out to the warehouse and hit the switch to open the bay door, quickly breaking into the luxury car out front and pulling it in. You left it on and hit the heated seats to low, rushing back to Colter where he was breathing shallowly. “Come on, bud. This should help.”

He groaned when you pulled him through the halls and out to the warehouse, cursing a long string of profanities at you that felt like the closest Colter Shaw had ever gotten to going absolute ape shit.

The ache in your chest eased when he hissed at the contact with the seats and then, you swore on your life, he cooed like a newborn baby. With the heat blasting in the car and thanks to the seats warming his bare skin, he finally passed out with a smidge more color to his skin.

“Okay,” you sighed, resting your head against the wheel. “You’re going to be okay.”

The Next Evening

“Hey,” said Russell. You didn’t acknowledge him as you watched flames flicker in the outdoor fireplace back at home. He sat down on the couch behind you, pulling you back into his lap. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you said, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You tucked yourself into him, Russell wrapping his arms around your body. “How’s Colter? He sleeping yet?”

“Oh, he’s annoying as hell. Little shit thinks he’ll be driving out of here tomorrow morning.”

You groaned, Russell humming. “He broke his damn leg. He isn’t driving for at least a month. He is staying with us at a minimum until that cast is off.”

“I’m not the one you have to argue with.” You sighed, Russell’s long legs shifting around to lay over top of yours. “You want to talk about it?”

Your eyes welled up, Russell sensing your tension. Your eyelids squeezed tight, something heavy boiling up under your skin.

“What’s the hardest thing? Killing someone? Or almost losing Colter?” he asked quietly. You shrugged, turning your head down to your lap. “He hurt-”

“My little brother died of hypothermia.” Russell went rigid behind you, turning you in his lap so you’d face him. Your bottom lip wobbled as he pulled you in close, his hands on your back. “The car accident…it was winter. My mom died on impact but we went down a ravine. My dad went to get help for me and my brother but it was so cold and we had no heat and Charlie was so hurt…the last thing he ever said was how cold he was.”

You looked over Russell’s shoulder at the dark lake, save for a few homes with lights on across the water.

“I don’t care that I killed that son of a bitch after what he did to Colt. But I just…” You inhaled shakily, gripping Russell’s hoodie tighter. He shushed you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. 

“He’s home with us. He’s safe,” said Russell softly. Long fingers stroked through your hair, tucking you into his neck. “I think Charlie would be really proud of you for protecting Colter like you did.”

“I should have protected him too,” you mumbled. Russell sighed, quietly embracing you. “You’re an older sibling. You understand.”

“Bullshit.” You leaned back fast, glaring at his stern green eyes. “Your dad was an amazing doctor and he left two injured kids. He was either a moron which I doubt or your brother had internal bleeding which made him say he was cold. If it was hypothermia you would have died too.���

“No, my dad said-”

“Was this before or after Owen’s fucked up mob family started drugging your dad so he had psychosis?” Your voice caught in your throat. Russell raised his eyebrows. “Sweetie, do you even know why Charlie died?”

“It was hypo…” You unraveled yourself from him, planting your bare feet on the warm deck. You gripped the couch cushions, closing your eyes, medical facts bouncing around your head. “Jesus, Russ. Why did I think…”

“Because your dad said it. He probably never even remembered he did. Deep down, he didn’t blame you so you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

You stood up, stepping in front of the fire with your arms crossed. You titled your head back, inhaling deeply. “He said a lot of mean things when I was a teenager, as I got older. But at the funeral…he was still himself. He didn’t…”

“No, he didn’t.” Russell stood behind you, curling his arms around your chest, trapping you against his strong warm frame. “So back to my original statement. Charlie, hell your parents too, I know they’re proud of you.”

“I killed a guy,” you scoffed.

“You saved a woman, helped catch a murderer, expose corruption throughout a small town, bring closure to a dozen families with missing loved ones-”

“Russell,” you groaned.

“And you saved my little brother’s life all while risking your own. We are damn proud of you, my queen of darkness.” Your head tilted backwards to look at him, Russell grinning back. “No objection?”

“Fine. You wore me down. I did good,” you grumbled. He chuckled against your ear, giving you a tight hug.

“The words every man loves to hear from his girl,” he laughed, giving you space to turn and hug him back. “You want to try sleeping?”

“In a minute. I want to check on him quick.”

“Don’t be long,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger. You gave him a hum and slipped inside, walking down the hall to the guest room. You cracked open the door slowly, Colter laying in bed with a frown.

“Need some pain killers?” you whispered as you entered, shutting the door behind you. 

“No,” he grumbled, glancing up at you when you took two pills out of the bottle on the nightstand. “I overheard you and Russell.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, Colter grabbing your arm. He tried to sit up, relenting when you pushed on his shoulder. “Rest. I know that’s a foreign word to you but you have to take things slow if you want to recover correctly.”

“And you need to realize this job is dangerous and I am not your responsibility.”

“No, you’re not.” You ruffled his messy hair gently, Colter pouting. “But that’s what family does for each other.”

He wanted to retort but bit his tongue, grumbling as you fixed his blankets and made him take a painkiller. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Russell got engaged?” You glanced down at your hand and the shiny silver band on your finger. 

“When did you notice?”

“When you shot that guy. It helped to think of something else for a bit.” You nodded, playing with the ring. “When’d he ask?”

“About a week ago. We wanted to surprise you and Dory.” His hand fell down to yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Colter, I know you have your issues with your brother but we love you. I know you’re going to hate it but you need to stay here for awhile. At the very least you need to stay with Dory if not us. You can’t be alone right now.”

“I will try to not complain too much,” he said. You smiled, leaning down to hug him. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it is all,” you said, getting up and pushing his glass of water closer. “Need anything else?”

“I’m good.” You went to the door, Colter clearing his throat. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“That red jacket is still fucking obnoxious.” You flipped him off, Colter cracking a smile. 

“Goodnight, asshole.” You turned off his light for him and found Russell curled up in the blankets in bed.

“How’s the patient?” he mumbled, big spooning you as soon as you were tucked under the covers. 

“He’s going to be alright.” 

“Did you ask him about being in the wedding yet?”

“One step at a time, hun.” He chuckled, burying his face against the back of your neck. 

“Try to get some rest too, qark.” You closed your eyes, nodding once. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Russ.”

___________

[lanalace]

Encompassed [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Fem Reeader]

Chapter 2 - Entangled

Word count - 3,914

Gojo Satoru continued to visit you at night for the next week. Despite the offensive chemical smell polluting your scent, he was so just happy to be near you. You bought him a sense of contentment. It made him happy to end the night in your presence.  

He found himself in your bed once more. You looked just as beautiful as every night before, just vulnerable too. It made him smile watching you sleep so peacefully. 

“You’re so cute, I can’t help but to want to tease you.” He said to you even though you couldn’t hear him. He crawled onto your bed and laid beside you just  as he’d done before. This time, the scent of males didn’t disturb his nose and that small fact left him with a sense of relief. 

You were propped up on the pillows just like before too, head facing away from him. Satoru didn’t particularly like that he couldn’t see your entire face so he took your chin into his hand and turned your face towards him.

“So pretty, little wolf.” He caressed your soft cheek, admiring her beauty.  Tonight however, his gaze was drawn to your pink, pouty lips.

His thump grazed over her full bottom lip a few times, just enjoying the feel of it. It felt as soft as a cloud. The sorcerer really wanted to kiss you at this moment and so he did.

Gojo leaned over and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss before pulling away. ‘Just as soft as I thought they would be.’ 

You sighed and pulled a faint smile in your sleep.

“That must have been your first kiss. Was it that nice for you too?” He sounded so pleased.

“I could make it much nicer for you. For us.” He licked his lips and dove back in for another kiss. This time delving his tongue into your mouth greedily tasting everything you had to offer. His tongue slid over your immobile one, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. He licked and bit at your bottom lip, the plump bit of flesh caught between his teeth and battered under his assault. It was a few minutes before he released your lips with a satisfied sigh.

“So sweet.” he groaned in pleasure. He was beaming with joy. Moving back away from you and resting on the pillow beside you, he found your hand and brought it to his lips. He placed a kiss on it and continued to watch you blissfully sleep until he, himself fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the sound of your phone going off loudly somewhere. You rubbed eyes and yawned loudly but your yawn was cut off halfway by the dull pain in your chest. You tensed at the sudden pain and bit your lip.

“Ugh that kinda hurt.” You groaned out in discomfort. You pouted, you felt so groggy and just wanted to go back to sleep at this point but your alarm was still going off. Blindly waving your arm around, you managed to grab your phone from the nightstand next to your bed and hit the side button to turn off the alarm.

“Ugh.” It was already after ten in the morning again. You never slept this late but you’ve been sleeping late ever since you got injured. ‘What a drag… its not like I have anything to do today anyways. It’s only been 3 days, 12 more to go.’ You sighed and scrolled through the notifications. There were texts from all of your friends, a few social media things and…

“No way!” You sat straight up immediately. Which you regretted as quickly. 

“Ow!” You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and doing everything in your power not to grab at your chest to relieve the pain. It wasn’t terribly painful, just more unexpected. You let out a small breath to calm yourself then slip off the bed and headed to the attached bathroom.

[Anime time] XD

That’s what your phone showed. In other words, it’s time for your suppressants. This was all you could write as your reminder for obvious reasons. This was the most inconspicuous thing you could think of at the time, it was random but it worked and you could always give an excuse at the drop of a dime if needed. 

You really didn’t want to take any extra meds today. But its not like you had much of a choice. You had a nice health stash of pills in the most inconspicuous place. It was one of those paddle brushes that were poorly glued together so sometimes the inside of the brush would fall out. That’s where you kept your pills. You even made sure to tape every single pill to the inside of the brush and lightly glue it back together every week. This way no one would so much as hear the pills sliding together.

When you finally made your way to the bathroom and retrieved your hairbrush, snatching it from the vanity drawer. Peeling back the lining, you expected to see your medicine as usual but they were completely gone. You froze for a split second from the shock. 

‘Maybe it fell to the bottom.’ You thought to yourself, trying to get a handle on the rising panic. Ripping off the entire brush insert, you thought that the taped pills would fall right out of the bottom but nothing. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!” That's when the panic set fully in and you started crazily pulling any and everything out of that drawer and cabinets, desperately searching for the pills. You knew that there was no way you would drop them somewhere or misplace them but you had no other choice but to search. The medicine cabinet was next, it was completely empty aside from your toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Fuck!!!” You moved back into your room and started pulling drawers from the nightstand and dumping the contents on the floor and searching through it. ‘Nothing?! Fucking fuck! Where are they? Where are they?!’  You ran through your room like a tornado on your hunt, leaving a chaotic mess in your wake. About 30 minutes later of no luck, you drop to the floor in the middle of your room with watery eyes.

“What am I going to do? I can’t find them.” 

‘I know that I have a few days before the drug leaves my system but a few. Days are not enough. Fucking fuck. I need to contact The Doctor.’ The Doctor was the name of your supplier. He approached you the day you went searching for OPB’s in the sketchy part of town. He offered to tailor make your suppressants for you. All of the pro’s and none of the cons, he just needed a few tubes of blood. You happily gave it, no questions asked because you were too desperate to just get the drugs. He gave you a temporary sample at first for the week. Something you’d have to take twice a day until your personal suppressants were made. It took one full week to synthesize and a shit ton of money but when you got them, you finally felt normal again. He made sure to warn you that the new pills are only to be taken once a week and should you miss your dosage, you would have to wait until your body cycles out the drug and after your heat to resume taking the meds again. Something about hormones needing to be at normal levels. It would take anywhere between 3-5  days after the first missed dose for the suppressants to leave your system, at that time you will go into a full blown heat.

 “I’m done for.” You were stressed and high on anxiety, on the verge of a full on breakdown when you heard a rushed knock at your door. It took you a moment to register it before another few knocks came.

“Y/n-chan? Are you ok?” Itadori asked from the other side of your door. You can hear the concern in his voice.

“Y/n-chan?!” He called again, sounding more concern before turning the doorknob and cracking the door. You turned your body towards the door and yelled for him not to open the door. “Itadori wai-” It was too late, he had already opened the door.

“Y/n-chan…” He was by your side in an instant, bypassing the mess on the ground as if he didn’t even notice it. “What’s wrong? I smell your distress from all the way down the hall.” His eyes were trained on your face. Steady and unwavering gaze startled you. He’d never seen you like this. You looked so vulnerable. That coupled with the smell of your distress did something to him. 

“I can’t- I lost something very important to me. I don’t know what to do.” Your head drooped and your lips trembled as you spoke. You were trying not to cry so badly because your life here might be over. The beta hugged you and whispered some reassuring words into your ear.

“Hey, it’s ok. We can find it. Tell me what it is, I’ll help you.” He rubbed your back gently.

This was so foreign to you. Almost uncomfortable. You didn’t know how to feel about being held like this. You weren’t used to this type of affectionate gesture. Your parents hugged you before, yes but it was more of a greeting rather than anything. But as far as being consoled, that just never happened like this. It was more of some strict encouraging words and a pat on the back, if that. Like “Get up because no one will respect a weak alpha.” Or “You are better than this, you don’t cry when things are hard. You stand strong and keep moving.” That is what you were expecting. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings so you tried to be careful with your words.

“Itadori, I’m ok. Um, thank you.” You force a smile and pulled away from him, moving out of his grasp. He looked slightly disappointed by your action but covered it up quickly with a smile.

“That's good. You really did a number on your room, huh?” He chuckled and switched the subject, scratched the back of his head.

“Uh yeah. I got a bit carried away. I’ll clean everything up in a bit.” You blushed in embarrassment. ‘I need to get rid of him. I’m pretty sure he can’t smell me but it’s only a matter of time before he and everyone else can so I need to find my pills. If not, I need to make contact with the doctor.’ Your supplier was a very busy man. It was so inconvenient. Your best bet would be to go there in person asap.

“I’ll help. Maybe we can find whatever you were looking for while we clean. Besides, you are still injured, Y/n-chan.” He said. You really appreciated him. He was always good at reassuring people. But this is just not something he could help with. ‘He may be a silly person but he’s not dumb. I don’t think I would be able to trust him if he found the pills first.’

“Thanks but can we do this later? I need to hurry up and leave.” You changed the subject. You couldn’t have him in here accidentally finding your pill.

“Wha-I thought you want to find something important?” he was understandably confused.

“It’s ok. I’m uh hungry and I need to eat so I can take my pain meds. I can’t take them on an empty stomach.” You doubled down of your flyby excuse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made your way to the sketchy part of town just after midnight. It was so difficult to detach Yuji and the others from your side. They stuck to you like glue and any other time, you’d probably milk the attention for funzies. But it had just been damn annoying to be pestered and cared for when you needed to go figure a plan to leave.

You couldn’t rely on your parents for help so all you could do is ask for vacation time. However, that idea was shot down instantly. You remembered that you were injured. Injured students weren’t allowed to leave the premises unless they are released into the care of a guardian. ‘Full circle…’ Your only choice was to sneak out at night. That way no one would interrupt you. You never tried sneaking out before but you didn’t think it would be this easy. You didn’t even see anyone guarding the entrance. But you just chalked it up to the assumption that the school is covered in a barrier for curses or something.

Dressed in a black hoodie, and navy sweatpants, and black sneakers and a face mask, you made your way to the boarded up warehouse at the end of block. It was massive and looked dilapidated but you knew it was just a cover. Knocking on the solid steel door, you waited patiently for a response. The man on the other side of the door pulled back the slot on the door and looked through it. You brandish a stack of cash from your pocket and pull your face mask down. He slams the slot close and you hear 7 locks being undone before the door opens to you. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon. Didn’t you just pick up your supply a month ago?” The man chuckled at you.

“I’m going on a long mission and I need extra just in case shit goes wrong.” You lie. ‘Like hell I’ll tell you they were stolen.’ You weren’t stupid enough to possibly lose the only lifeline you had.  He didn't reply and walked you to the back, passing tons of heavily armed guards on your way to the lab. 

“Ah, Y/n. Good to see you.” The doctor smiles at you before taking you into a friendly hug. He took over guiding you to a standard blood testing chair and you took a seat, took off your hoody and slapped your arm on the table.

“You do remember that it takes time to make your pill?” The old man says as he grabs a butterfly needle and turns to you.

“I’m aware.” Was all you said before he sanitizes your arm and injects you.

Thirty minutes go by and of poking and questioning you but you were used to it. It’s a routine thing that you went through when you needed to restock your supply. You paid them and in no time, you were ushered back out onto the sidewalk of that crappy street. 

You threw your hood back on and pulled your mask up then made your way down the dark street, with a big weight off of your shoulders as you made your way back to the school. You decided not to go back to your room just yet and made your way to the training grounds.You stood in the middle of the open field and just breathed. ‘Thank goodness everything worked out. The only thing left to do now is find a place to deal with my heat. It’s unavoidable at this point. And to come up with a good enough excuse for my absence. One thing at-’ You stopped in your tracks and grasped your stomach as a quick, sharp pain stabbed your body. 

Before you could even so much as form a thought about what was happening to your body, you’re caught off guard by your hackles raising. Someone suddenly appeared behind you and before you could move, the man had you in his arms. Immediately you began to struggle but all you could do was wiggle since your arms were trapped at your side by his hug. The man hunched over and brought his lips to your ear.

“Yo.” He says, smiling down at you. You froze. You knew that voice but it was impossible that this man was here at this time.

“Um…Gojo-San? Wha-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before you felt and heard him inhale deeply. 

“You smell absolutely delicious…. Omega” Those words caused your body to shudder. The impending doom that was hovering around you since this morning finally slammed into you, rooting you to this spot.

“What did you just-” You were cut off again when he chuckled. It was light at first but took a turn to maniacal, reverberating through your body. It scared you but you fought back the fear to speak again.

“I am not an omega.” You said to him, voice barely above a whisper. Mentally cursing yourself for sounding so weak but his laugh scared you. ‘At least I didn’t stutter.’

He ignored you in favor of pulling your hood down, nuzzling your neck and inhaling more of you. You were about to yell at him to release you but he took his opportunity to lick the length of your slender neck and that sent a shiver down your spine. You jolted away from the older man, complete disgust shown on your face. He let you this time, knowing fully that you cannot actually escape him.

Gojo gave you a wolfish grin, the look he gave you made you think he’d devour you right here. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his usual glasses and right now, you wished that he did. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he stared you down and he looked positively starved. 

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! I can’t run, he’ll catch me. I can’t fight, I would never win. What should I do? Should I scream for help?’ You were panicked. Taking a deep breath, getting ready to scream for help.

“Do you think that anyone here can stop me?” you stopped in your tracks and frowned. ‘He’s right… Who could stop him? Who would willingly go up against Gojo in a serious fight? It’s suicide.’ You bit your bottom lip while trying to think of something to save you.

“I would prefer not to have to fight for you because I will likely kill any suitor that comes to your aid and I rather like the people of this school. It would be a shame for you, I don’t think you’d enjoy having that blood on your hands.”  He said in a bored tone.

“How do you think this will go? Surely, someone is suspicious of you by now. Maybe even plotting to take you by force.” 

“What about you? Won’t you also take me by force?” You tried turning the conversation to him. Maybe if you steer the conversation, you could get an upper hand somewhere.

“Yes. Of course, I will.” He said with no hesitation and you were taken aback, not expecting a teacher to say such a thing.

“I’ve studied you enough to know you are stupid enough to try to fight me. Am I right?” He smiled at you sweetly as if he didn’t just say that he would rape you and you had to contain the urge to punch his lights out. ‘Smug bastard.’ You were fuming and he could tell.

“Wouldn’t you rather have your mate be the strongest in the world and devastatingly handsome?” he shrugged.

“Is this really the time for sick jokes? I’m a student and underage!”

“Underage for a beta but not for an omega. Did that pretty little head of yours forget that omega’s become of age as soon as they present in order not deal with the mental hardship of going through heat cycles alone.” You did remember that but you were hoping, clearly in vein, that he didn’t.

“Y/n I enjoy fighting. I would enjoy fighting for you, enjoy winning for you. I will revel in every moment of claiming you even if you fight me. It is my right as the strongest and your honor as an omega.”

“My honor?” You scuff. “What kind of honor is it to have your rights stripped away from you and treated like a domestic animal!”  You yell quietly at him.

“I could just as easily report you to the Omega center and have them give you to me anyway. But when they ultimately give you to me, I will punish you for making me take the longer route to obtain you. Either way, I. Still. Win.” He ignored your small qualms. 

“You’re insane. Do you even hear what you’re saying?” You tried appealing to a saner side of him.

Gojo chuckled, he knew you were stalling with no endgame in sight. “Am I? Who would be a better fit if not me? I am the strongest. I am wealthy enough to give you a pampered life. You will be in my bed by the end of the week.” He stated, leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t want that…” You whined. You were on the brink of tears and could see your freedom crumbling into pieces. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t going to win this, not with such a dangerous opponent.

“I know, little wolf.  But having options is a luxury only given to the strong.” 

”I am strong!” You cried out. 

“For an omega, yes. You are incredibly strong and together we will produce an even stronger line of brats.” He praised you and terrified you in one sentence. In any other circumstance, you would have swelled with pride from being acknowledged by this man but right now, all you could do was glare at him with disdain. 

 A sudden pain hit you, similar to the one from earlier. You flinched and clenched your stomach muscles, you would not show more weakness in front of this predator. Satoru's eyes widened slightly as he stared at you. Closing his eyes, and inhaling the air deeply, he let out a long groan of pleasure. It shocked you. It was such a random thing to do. You looked at him wearily when he settled his ultra focused gaze on you.

“Choose. I’ll allow you this kindness. If you take the easy way, I’ll give you time to say goodbye to everyone.” he voice was slightly strained when he spoke this time and he sounded  intimidating. 

You looked down at your feet, finding it hard to look at such an intense gaze and tried to think of something to save you. You ran through every scenario in your head and they all play out with you in the white haired sorcerer‘s clutches. ‘I really have no choice. It’s either the Omega Center or his house.’ Taking a deep breath of your own, you whispered your answer. 

“I choose the center.” This was the only path forward for you. ‘At least with this, I might have a chance to escape. I don’t think I’d ever escape Gojo. This is my only shot.’

Satoru growled and his eyes flashed with anger and the next thing you knew, you were in his arms. He gripped you tight enough to bruise. “You stubborn fool. I gave you a chance to make this easier.” His voice was laced with rage. 

”But you…said that I c-could choose!” You squeaked out, barely able to breathe with how strong his hold was.

“You chose wrong.” That was the last thing you heard before your vision went black and you lost consciousness.

A/N: You are officially captured, my loves. Next chapter will contain a detailed dub-con smut.

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation. 

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there’s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 7: An Eye For An Eye

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: now that the truth is out in the open, you find it harder than ever to keep yourself from wanting Haechan constantly. But at least now you know that he wants you just as much.

length: 9,317 words

tags: voyeurism, exhibitionism, slowburn, friends to lovers, masturbation, public sex, fingering, general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter

Waking the next morning, you stare up at the ceiling for a good long while. Remembering yesterday, remembering last night. 

You got the truth from Haechan. You shared secrets. 

He kissed you. 

And still, you feel giddy about it, like a young girl with her first kiss. 

Haechan kissed you. 

You kissed him. 

You cover your face with your hands to muffle the excited sound that spills from your lips. 

What happens now?

You go through your day as normal. You clean the apartment, you and your roommate make a grocery run in the mid-afternoon, and then as the day creeps towards evening, your thoughts start to turn and focus exclusively on Haechan. Thinking of what you’d said to him before he first kissed you. An eye for an eye; a truth for a truth. You want equality, which means he’s watched you, so you want to watch him. Properly watch him instead of just from a distance in the dark, though you didn’t share that particular truth with him last night. 

Your roommate leaves for the night to go on a date with her partner and then stay at their place. Which leaves you to fend for yourself for the night. Before she got into this relationship, the two of you spent many Friday and Saturday nights together here in the living room, bundled up in blankets with takeout from a variety of your favorite places. But tonight you either have to decide on a place for yourself, or you can throw together dinner from what you’d bought earlier at the grocery store. 

Unsure what you really want, you just play around on your phone until your brain and your stomach can come to an agreement on what to eat. 

You scroll on Twitter for a little while, get lost down a TikTok rabbit hole until the sky outside is dark and the time staring back at you reads quarter after nine. You switch to Instagram, and right there at the top of your screen it shows that one haechanahceah has added to his story. 

You tap on it. 

He’s holding his phone close to his face as he laughs, the blue sky of twilight barely visible behind him along with a flash of YangYang’s face and toothy smile. The sound of wind rushes against the microphone. The camera flips and you see a skateboard under his feet, pavement rushing by, and then a path stretching out along the river. 

The next part to his story: pictures of food covering a table. Haechan tagged several other people, though YangYang and Ten’s are the only usernames that you recognize from them. 

Drinks. Everyone clinking their glasses together. 

And then the most recent addition to his story is just a simple picture of the moon shining like a fat pearl in the velvet night sky. There’s a song playing, lyrics scrolling over the image of the moon, and it’s a song of neediness, desire, longing. 

It was posted five minutes ago. 

And just as you’re about to close out of the app and order yourself some dinner, your phone chimes with a message. 

“Are you doing anything right now?” From Haechan. 

When you don’t answer immediately, you receive a second message from him. “I saw that you just watched my story. Don’t pretend like you’re not on your phone.”

You call him. 

He answers immediately. 

Judging by the lack of wind, you assume he’s not outside any longer. And furthermore, the silence in the background makes you think he might not even be with the others anymore. 

“Hello?” He says, a little breathlessly. 

“What did you want?” 

Silence, then a slight rustling sound. Then, “I was just wondering if you were free or if you’re busy. I’ve been out with some guys all day, I just got home, and I want to send you something.”

“Oh?” You cradle your phone against your face. “Like what?”

“How was it that you phrased it yesterday?” Haechan pauses, as if thinking, then says, “Oh, right. You said you want equality. You want to watch me, since I’ve watched you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, sending pulsing heat to your extremities. “Haechan….”

“So let me ask again,” his voice dips lower, asking, “Are you doing anything right now? Can I send you something?”

All thoughts of dinner have been removed from your mind. The only hunger you feel now is for what Haechan is offering you through the phone. 

“I’m not doing anything.” You hope your voice isn’t shaking, that you don’t sound nervous or over-excited. “Send it.”

He laughs a little under his breath, and you know that you failed at sounding so cavalier. The eagerness and hunger bled through in your voice. 

“Alright, I’m hanging up now.” Haechan’s own voice is light with amusement and excitement. “I’ll send it shortly.”

After the call goes dead on his end of the line, you sit there, clutching your phone in your hands, perched on the edge of the sofa. You wonder if you should order food, if you should just try to eat something. It’s late. If you’re going to eat tonight, you’d better do it now before you get so swept up that you forget to eat altogether. And where do you want to watch this video at? Do you want to just watch it out here? Or should you close yourself away in the privacy of your bedroom, snug in your bed to witness exactly what you’ve been longing to see for so long now?

You think back to the night that started all of this interest in watching and being watched. The night of the hot tub. The first time that you felt there could genuinely be a little something more than just friendship between you and Haechan as you shared that bed with him. You remember longingly noticing the bulge in the front of his shorts when he’d emerged from the hot tub’s water, and you remember about an hour later when he’d stripped beside you in the dark. It had been quite dark, but not dark enough that you hadn’t caught the barest glimpse of his ass and just the shadowy hint of his cock. 

But now? Now your curiosity will be satisfied. 

You snack on something you pull from the pantry, waiting and waiting and waiting. After twenty minutes, you send him a text with a bunch of question marks. 

“Patience baby” is all you get back from Haechan. 

But the thing is, you’re feeling rather impatient. You’re horny now, excited thinking about getting to watch him. You do move to your bedroom, closing the door, turning the lights down, tucking yourself in with your phone held to your chest. You’re going to enjoy this. 

Finally after too fucking long, your phone chimes again. 

When you open the message, the rectangle of the video is just black. 

You tap play, and it fills your screen, still black. 

For a moment, you think something’s wrong with the video, but then you hear sound. The rustle of sheets. A shuddering breath. Something moving in the dark, which you realize a moment later is the shadow of some part of Haechan’s body against the faint light of his computer’s blinking power button. 

What is this? You wanted to see him, not just hear him. 

And then the video is illuminated as his bedside lamp is clicked on. The phone camera passes over rumpled sheets. There’s a flicker of tanned skin, the curve of his bare thigh. You hold your breath as at last the camera focuses on the fit of his fingers around his dick. 

It’s pretty and tan, just like the rest of him. 

His cock is actually bigger than you imagined it would be. You figured Haechan would be a little below average in terms of size, if you’re being honest, but the cock you’re looking at on your phone screen exceeds your expectations. He’s probably average in length, but damn, he’s thick from base to the tip, which is a pretty shade of pink that reminds you of his lips. He’s got a perfect cock, in your opinion. Right away, you want him in your mouth, your throat aches for it. 

And then you just sit back and watch the video, admiring the way he touches himself, the sounds he makes, the way that as he gets close to orgasm his hips twitch off the bed to rock into the circle of his fingers. You drink everything in, hungrily consuming the video to notice all the small details. The small scattering of moles across his belly and thighs and his arm and hand. The dusting of hair leading from below his navel to the base of his cock. 

You’ve been with a decent amount of men. You’ve seen cocks, touched them, tasted them, had them inside you. But you’ve never had Haechan’s, and the longer you sit here watching, the more that you feel like this video is just a cruel tease. 

Is that how he felt while watching the video feed of you masturbating in the office? Like it was just a cruel tease of what he couldn’t have?

Haechan moans your name in the video and your belly goes tight and hot at the sound, a whined praise from his lips.

How long would it take you to get to his apartment right now?

His hand flies over his length in the video, his moans like music to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, “Baby, bet your pussy would be so tight around me right now, so wet and slippery. I know you get super wet. Are you wet right now?”

Fuck. Yeah, you are. You’re not touching yourself though, too caught up in simply watching him to want to take away from it. But your core is throbbing with heat, panties soaked through. 

“You’d be taking my cock so well, angel.” Haechan gives one sharp thrust into his hand, his heels digging into the mattress as his hips lift off the bed. “Do you think you’d be a good girl for me? Do whatever I ask? Would you get on your knees and beg for me?”

If you were there right now, you certainly would be on your knees, mouth open wide, tongue out for his cock. You would let Haechan make such a mess of you. You would let him cum on your tits and your throat in public, and you would proudly wear that pearl necklace like a prize.

“Or would I need to punish you? You’ve shown me how naughty you can be.” He moans, passing his thumb right over the weeping slit of his cock. “What would even be a good punishment for you? Taking you out in public, teasing you, but not letting you cum? Sit you on my cock in front of all of our friends, tease you nice and slow while you keep my cock warm. But, no, you would enjoy that too much, wouldn’t you? What if I didn’t allow you to cum? Would that be punishment enough? I’d have to take you home, angel, edge you for as many times as you nearly gave us away.”

Your toes curl at the sound of his words, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing. You can’t take it anymore. 

You slip your fingers inside your panties, dipping them through your wetness. 

Haechan moans again, and your entire body buzzes and flares with heat in response. 

“I’ve never really done anything in public before, not quite like you,” Haechan says, still fisting his cock. “Only ever when I’m tucked out of sight, in semi-privacy, or after dark.” His hand holding his phone shakes, his breath shudders. “But you make me want to try getting a little riskier.”

You can just imagine it now. Taking Haechan out with you like you’d tried to do with a few of those random guys you hooked up with. Taking him to the park to have some fun on a picnic, tucked in a corner of the aquarium as the pretty fish swim by, fucking around in the car on a hot summer day with the windows down and your sweaty bodies exposed to the sunlight. 

You fuck yourself on your fingers, trying to keep your eyes focused on the video, but your vision grows hazy with lust, fantasies sweeping into your mind to overlay the visual of Haechan squeezing his hand around his cock with a groan, bucking his hips up into the tight grip of his fist as he finally cums with your name on his lips. Pearly drops coat his fingers, landing on his belly, and he keeps touching until he cums weakly again, spurting from his cock onto his belly too, all of it gathering in the dip of his belly button. 

You want to lick him clean, gather it all on your tongue and let it leak over his dick again before you blow him just to see how quick his refractory period is. 

You replay the video, and this time you touch yourself. You fold a pillow on the bed, straddle it, and ride your fingers while you hump the pillow, keeping the volume on his video loud where your phone lies beside your knee. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re riding him, fucking yourself on his cock instead of your fingers, that your clit is gaining friction from contact with him instead of your pillow. You imagine that it’s his hand coming down on your ass, a sharp smack that leaves your skin smarting; that it’s his fingers that pinch at your nipples; his shoulders that your fingernails dig into instead of the mattress. 

You slump to the side, fingers still slowly pumping as your body trembles from your orgasm. Your free hand searches the bed for your phone and when you swipe out of the video, you see Haechan has sent you a few more messages that you somehow missed. 

One is a closeup photo of his belly, shiny and wet with his cum. One is a simple question of “did you like it?” And then the third and final message is just a steamy mirror selfie, where only a circle to show his face has been wiped clean on the mirror, and the rest of his nude body is blurred out by the steam. 

You simply respond with a picture of your hand, cum stretching between your fingers, more wetness dripping down your palm. “I liked it.”

Monday morning, you don’t see Haechan at all before you go into your meeting with Taeil. It’s probably for the best. You wouldn’t be able to focus on the meeting if you’d seen Haechan; instead you’d be lost in dreamland, thinking of his cock, the rasp of his voice as he moaned your name. 

So you walk into the meeting with a clear head, which makes it run smoothly and successfully. Taeil is proud of you, he’d told you, stating that you worked hard and efficiently on the project, finishing it in less time than it would’ve taken anyone else. And he doesn’t say it in so many words necessarily, but he does hint that there might be a promotion coming up for you. 

You leave the meeting ecstatic, and the feeling carries you through the rest of the day. 

Tuesday, Haechan gets called away for a business meeting on the other side of the city. Wednesday, it’s your turn. Annoyingly, now that you’re finished with the project and finally thought you’d have some free time, something has always got one or the other of you busy. 

You’re never at work at the same time for that whole week, and that weekend he goes home to visit his family. 

You receive a video then of him on the beach at home, the sunset stretching out before him, and Haechan jerking off. He sends it along with the message “since I once saw you by the ocean, this is only fair,” which he explains he meant he watched you and Renjun in that outdoor shower in Thailand. 

You message each other back and forth constantly that weekend. Just casual conversations and then also the deeper, dirtier kind of conversations. More talk about his watching and your enjoyment of being watched, his new experimentation with exhibitionism. You talk about more things — other kinks and interests. His somewhat unsurprising interest in consensual non-consent. Your interest in a threesome, which you’ve never participated in; Haechan follows this up in recounting what he’s experienced. 

Come the following Monday morning, following all of that talk with none of the action, you’re itching with the need to see him. To actually be in the same space as Haechan. 

That need for proximity only grows when you walk into the office and spot Haechan sitting at his desk just a short distance from yours. 

He’s sipping at an iced americano, spinning back and forth in his chair as he stares at the desktop computer’s screen. He turns to catch your eye as you pass him. Your fingertips brush the back of his chair, just barely touching the fabric of his shirt, but he turns his entire seat to follow you with his eyes. 

“You smell nice today,” he says. 

You turn to look at him, and Haechan’s eyes are currently trailing down your legs. The skirt you’d worn today is perhaps a bit shorter than entirely appropriate, but it has captured his attention fully. He hungrily stares at your thighs, your calves, the way that your heels hug your feet. And then his attention sweeps up to your face again. 

“Do you have plans later?” He asks even as you keep walking away to your own desk. 

You don’t, and you tell him that, but before he can suggest any plans for you and him, someone else speaks up from where you hadn’t even noticed her. 

Taeil’s secretary. 

“Oh, Channie!” You cringe as she uses a nickname for Haechan. “Mr. Moon was actually wondering if you could help him out later. You have a friend that’s a mechanic, right? Mr. Moon’s car has been acting up, so he was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking it for your friend to look at?”

Haechan barely conceals his scowl. The friend in question is Chenle, who recently took his history of wealth, an interest in the inner workings of luxury cars and what he’d learned while studying for a business degree, and he opened a car repair shop business — a far cry from the culinary degree he’d mentioned pursuing when you last saw him. 

“Sure, I can take it to him. But his shop is expensive. He typically only works on luxury cars,” Haechan says. And as far as you’re aware, Mr. Moon drives a Hyundai to and from work everyday, not exactly a luxury vehicle. 

The secretary just smiles. “That’s fine! Mr. Moon recently upgraded to a BMW.”

Hours later, as you’re leaving for the day, you follow Haechan down along with Mr. Moon’s secretary to see the car. It is in fact a shiny, brand new BMW. You wouldn’t think there would be anything wrong with it at all since it looks like it just rolled right out of the factory into this spot in the parking garage. 

The secretary passes the keys over to Haechan, and you don’t miss the nervous way his eyes widen as he takes in the feel of the keys in his hand and then eyes the length of the flawless and expensive car. 

“You’re sure he wants me to take it? He doesn’t want to? I could give you directions, and give my friend a call.” Haechan’s fingers close around the keys. 

She shakes her head, smiling widely as she looks from Haechan to you and then back again. “Mr. Moon has a flight to catch for that conference in Germany. So he’s unavailable to take the car right now, and since he’ll be out of the country for the next week, it just makes sense to have it get worked on while he’s gone.” And then she passes a card over to Haechan as well. “You can charge the mechanic’s bill on this card. And once the car’s finished if you wouldn’t mind just bringing it right back here, and you can leave the key and the card in his office. Thank you, Channie, we both really appreciate it!”

And then she’s walking off, leaving you and Haechan standing there to gaze at the car. 

“You do have your license, don’t you?” You ask. 

Haechan nods wordlessly. “Yeah, but shit. I’ve never even been in a car this nice; I’ve definitely never driven one as nice as this.” 

He unlocks the car, and you watch as he nervously reaches for the door handle. The door opens smoothly, soundlessly, unlike your car which groans loudly pretty much every time you touch it. 

The interior of the car is a cool, sleek black. The dashboard is a screen that comes to life the moment Haechan turns the car on. The engine purrs, and Haechan settles into the driver’s seat, making himself right at home. 

“How do I look?” He asks, gripping the steering wheel and staring ahead through the windshield. “Do I look like I could drive one of these?”

You laugh. “You look hot, Haechan. Like a very, very wealthy man who uses flashy cars to impress people.”

He glances over at you. “Is that what you think Taeil’s doing? Using the car to impress, possibly to compensate?”

“Impress yes. Compensate?” You look Haechan in the eye as you say, “I think you’d be the one who could tell me that. Does he have anything to compensate for?” Haechan’s admitted that he’s watched Taeil fuck the secretary through his hidden cameras, so he should know if Taeil’s gotten a flashy car to compensate for dick size or his skills in bed. 

Haechan shakes his head. “No, he’s fine. Just to impress people then. And it’s definitely working because I’m impressed.” He buckles his seatbelt, adjusting the seat height and distance from the steering wheel, readjusting the mirrors. He does look very hot in the driver’s seat of this nice car. The suit he’d worn to the office today and the pair of sunglasses that he plucks from the cup holder certainly help with the vibe. 

He closes the car door, and a moment later rolls down the dark-tinted window so you can see him again. 

“You want to come with me?”

You lean in, resting your elbows on the edge of the window. Your face is only inches away from Haechan’s, and that delicious fragrance he wears is all you know for a few delirious seconds. You can envision yourself sliding onto the buttery soft leather of the passenger seat. You can envision convincing Haechan to pull over into another parking garage or a park’s parking lot, into anywhere at all and letting you ride him in the driver's seat of this fancy car, finally getting to experience his cock for real. 

You think you can see some of your fantasy playing out behind the dark brown of his eyes too. He’s smiling with a little edge of heat. 

“I shouldn’t.” You take a step back. “I know I said I didn’t have plans, and I haven’t seen Chenle in a while so it would be nice to see him, but I have a feeling that if I get in that car with you…” You meet Haechan’s gaze. “I feel like I’d be distracting you a little too much. Or at least I would want to.”

Your gaze drifts from his eyes to the curl of his hand on the wheel. You don’t think you’d even be out of this parking garage before you’d already be tugging his hand to rest on your thigh, urging his fingers up beneath your skirt. After a week of being denied Haechan’s physical presence in your life, a week filled with nothing but want for every part of him, you feel like an addict being presented with their drug of choice, and it’s almost impossible for you to say no to what he’s offering. But you’re trying so hard to not jump Haechan in your boss’s car. 

“What you’re saying is I’m too sexy right now in this car. You’d be throwing yourself at me?” He grins. 

That’s not what you said, but yes, it’s exactly what you meant. 

You take another step back. “I’m going to go home. You take this car to Chenle for him to work on. Maybe let me know when you’re done, and we’ll see about making some plans then. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Again, you look at his hand on the wheel, the way it flexes, squeezing around the curve of the steering wheel, and your mind flashes to the videos he’s sent you — his hand on his cock, fingers dripping in cum. 

You walk away, taking the elevator to the third level of the parking garage where you’d left your car this morning, and then you sit in your car for a few moments to compose yourself before you head home. Your thoughts, as much as you try to steer them away from the crafted fantasy of fucking Haechan in a fancy car, keep returning there. Again and again on the drive home. 

You’ve just arrived home, just stepped out of your car to head up to your apartment, when you receive a message from Haechan. 

Without hesitation, you open it. 

A video. At first you can only see the interior of the car, and then the camera swings down to focus on his lap. Or, more specifically, on his bare cock. 

“Traffic,” Haechan says. “I’m stuck in traffic, and I’ve got a boner because all I can think about is how if you were here with me right now, you’d be throwing yourself at me.” He laughs a little. “Okay, maybe I’d be the one unable to keep my hands to myself. But unfortunately, right now my hands are all I’ve got for myself, and we’re barely moving in traffic, so I just, ah, thought I’d bide my time productively. I said it the other night, you make me want to take risks in public.”

He’s just rocking his hips off the seat, driving his cock against his hand. 

“The fact this isn’t even my car makes this even hotter. Do you think our boss and secretary have fucked in here yet, or am I the one breaking it in? Shit, if you were here this could be your hand around me. Or maybe your lips. We could break this car in together, would you like that? The windows are so dark though, no one would be able to see you.”

He strokes his cock with a moan. The car lurches forward, you can see his thigh relax and clench as he releases and then steps on the brake. 

“Gotta be careful,” he mumbles to himself. But then he’s right back at it, stroking his cock, and it rubs against Taeil’s steering wheel by accident. His fingers squeeze around his tip and you can see the shiny smear of his precum against the material of the steering wheel. 

He thrusts his hips up, another moan breaking through his lips. 

“It’s gonna be a mess when I cum,” he grunts. “Knew I should’ve brought you for easy cleanup. Could’ve cum in your mouth, made you swallow every drop.”

Your body reacts to that. A lurching feeling of arousal in your core, imagining cleaning up Haechan’s cum. 

His hand stills on his cock for a moment, just the thumb teasing slow circles around the tip, and then he releases his hold with a curse. “We’re moving again.”

And the video ends. 

It’s not until that moment that you realize you’ve just been standing frozen there beside your car this whole time. You pocket your phone and head up to your apartment to take a cold shower. When you get out, you have a new message. 

Another video. 

In this one, the phone is at a different angle and his pants are gone, his shirt is lifted up to expose his belly. And he’s quickly jerking off. There’s no finesse, no teasing or dirty talk. It’s just a quick, short clip of Haechan’s hand moving fast and tight, bitten back moans escaping his teeth as he cums over his fist, dripping down onto his thighs and onto that flawless leather seat. 

“I get why you like this,” Haechan says, bringing the phone up so you can see his chin. “Some man just walked by where I’m parked on the street outside Chenle’s place. The windows are dark so he couldn’t see in, but I had the window rolled down just a little, and he definitely heard me moaning. He was looking, and that’s when I came. What do you think he’d have done if he actually saw me?”

Exactly. That’s exactly what you like about exhibitionism. The thrill of getting away with it and the questions of what if you hadn’t gotten away with it. What would they do if they caught you?

In the video clip you watch Haechan wipe his hand clean on the inside of his undershirt before he tugs his button-down back into place. He straightens his tie and his jacket, then he manages to slide his boxers back up over his hips with one hand. 

“Do you think he’s got any napkins or tissues in here?” Haechan mumbles, reaching around to rustle through the contents of Taeil’s fancy car. “I need something to wipe my jizz up with.”

You smile to yourself, noting the blend of amusement and frustration in Haechan’s voice. 

Eventually he finds something, and he wipes and smears the glob of his cum that had landed on the leather seat. 

It’s then that he slides his phone onto the car’s dashboard, giving you a view of the sky through the windshield. He makes some noise that you assume is him pulling his pants back up, and then he finally picks his phone back up again, showing his face on the video. 

“Anyway, I’d better head inside now and pass the car off to Chenle.” The car door opens, the sounds of the wind and traffic mixing with the sound of his voice. “I’ll have to see how long this takes, but maybe we can still make plans.”

You hope so. 

You spend a little while after that taking care of the Haechan-inspired itch that needs scratching, feeding yourself with fantasies featuring him. You keep expecting to be interrupted by him texting or calling about plans, but you’ve taken care of yourself with no word from him. 

You wait, going about your afternoon doing some laundry and a little cleaning around the apartment. All of it is meant to distract you from being nervous about the reality of making plans with Haechan. Plans that you assume will only lead to finally having sex with him. 

And when he finally sends you a message, your heart takes up an erratic pace. 

But it’s not quite the message you’d hoped for.

“Chenle wants to hang out. He already messaged Renjun, YangYang, and Xiaojun. Do you want to come?”

Now, those aren’t exactly the plans you had in mind, and even as your heart swells with disappointment, you agree. You do want to see your friends, especially Chenle who you haven’t seen in quite a while. But considering that you’re meeting up with all of them for dinner, that they all have a tendency to want to chat late into the night, and since you’re picking up YangYang and Xiaojun on the way, you don’t find your odds of any actual plans with Haechan happening tonight. 

Xiaojun’s girlfriend has basically moved in with him, so she comes along too, and your car is crowded on the way to meet the other three for dinner. And the booth table Chenle booked is even more crowded. 

Everyone is squeezed in so tightly that Haechan has you pressed up against the wall. Across from you, Xiaojun pulled his girlfriend onto his lap. The woman that comes over to take your order only offers an apologetic smile and says that this is the only size table they had left. 

It’s fine. Really. 

You’re all very close friends, so if some of you have to sit with arms around each other, ankles knocking and twisting beneath the table, that’s fine. 

And if it means that at some point after your order is put in and the first round of drinks are served, Haechan tugs one of your legs up over his so he can slide just a little closer to you and save a little extra space for Renjun on his other side, well… you’re not going to complain. 

He glances your way, a sparkle in his eye. 

His hand doesn’t leave your thigh. 

You’re still wearing a skirt, though it’s not the short one you’d worn to work today. 

This is a longer, casual skirt. One that’s loose and floaty enough that when Haechan starts walking his fingers along your thigh, the fabric easily starts bunching up, gathering beneath his fingers and drawing up your leg. 

You tamp down the urge to shiver when the pads of his warm fingers make contact with your bare thigh. 

Liquor burns the back of your throat as you quickly drink the alcohol the woman brought to your table. You hope that the flush of alcohol in your cheeks might conceal the way that you can already feel yourself blushing beneath Haechan’s touch. 

And then he starts stroking his fingers over your inner thigh. Moving them back and forth, fingers drumming gently a melody that you can’t determine. 

The frustrating thing is that you’re in a tizzy, but Haechan is perfectly cool. He’s maintaining a conversation with the others while he builds the heat inside your core. 

And then he squeezes your thigh. 

Palm flat to your skin. Fingers pressing in. 

You snap your head to the side to look at him, your hand dropping beneath the table to cover his hand on your thigh. Your leg draped over his twitches, foot kicking out. 

Unfortunately your accidental kick makes contact. 

Chenle frowns, looking around at your side of the table. “Who just kicked me?”

“Sorry,” Haechan apologizes quickly, covering for you. 

Judging by the way that Chenle moves and the slight thump beneath the table, paired with Haechan’s grunt and jolt, you assume Chenle landed a retaliatory kick. 

Haechan pouts and starts to whine, playing it up dramatically. The others roll their eyes and tease him as he reaches for Renjun asking for him to kiss it better, as he tells Chenle he owes him dessert because his kick had been an accident while Chenle’s had been fully intentional. He asks YangYang to kiss it better, too, to which YangYang flips Haechan off. 

Then he turns to you. “Will you kiss it better?”

Renjun laughs into his drink, nearly choking on it. 

He’s known about your crush on Haechan for ages, so you’re sure he finds that comment very amusing.

You glare at Renjun from over Haechan’s shoulder. Haechan pouts at you, and as much as you desperately want to kiss his soft-looking lips, you’re not going to kiss him in front of your friends right now. “Just take a drink, and you’ll forget about your boo-boo.” You pick up his glass and lift it to his lips for him, tipping it back and pouring it into his mouth. 

Haechan holds eye contact with you, and a pulse of something races along your spine. 

Some of his drink spills from the corner of his mouth, and he lifts a hand to your wrist, pulling your hand and the glass away from his mouth. “I feel better already.”

Beneath the table, he massages your thigh again. 

When the food is served, you would’ve thought he’d need both hands to eat, but to your surprise and satisfaction, Haechan keeps one hand firmly on your thigh, the other to handle his chopsticks. 

You do your best to maintain conversation with the others. After a while, once you’re used to the weight of Haechan’s hand on your thigh and the press of his fingers along the sensitive skin of your bare upper thigh, conversation and concentration get a little easier. You eat and laugh and talk with your friends all while Haechan’s fingers roam higher. 

It’s only once the food on the table is dwindling, once Haechan has eaten his fill apparently, that he turns his focus back to teasing you properly. 

He’s in the middle of talking to Xiaojun about some culinary festival. His fingers slide higher than they’ve been yet, brushing the soft edge of your panties. 

You choke a little on your food, and his fingers withdraw for a moment as attention around the table turns to you. 

“I’m fine.” You cough, reaching for your glass, gulping it down quickly to cool the heat consuming you. 

Xiaojun resumes talking. Haechan’s fingers return to your panties, slower this time and accompanied by a glance to the side from him. Checking with you. 

You slide your hand down to his again, giving him a nod of approval, and applying a little pressure to get his hand moving again. 

The corner of his lips turn up in a barely-suppressed smile. 

The smile grows when his fingers brush along the center of your panties, and he finds them damp. You try to steady your breathing, try not to lean into Haechan as he circles his middle finger over your clit, as he strokes along your slit over your panties, working you up, making you wetter. 

You lean back against the cushioned back of the booth, shoulders pressed into the corner. 

Your hand shakes when you lift your glass to your lips. You hope no one notices. You hope no one notices the attempt you make at taking a steadying breath. Pray no one notices that your eyes are growing distant, your face warm, your posture dissolving.

Haechan eases his fingers inside your panties, and you slide a little lower in your seat to spread your legs just a bit wider. 

You’re reminded of that first time with Renjun. This is a very similar set of people, but this time you don’t have to stare longingly across the room at Haechan’s thighs. Now you’re able to drop a hand to his lap, your hand curving over his gorgeous thighs wrapped snug in his suit pants. You don’t touch him — not in the way that he’s touching you, anyway — just leave your hand there on his thigh, fingernails dragging over the material of his pants as he slides his long, middle finger into your core. 

How he does this so smoothly, so casually, showing nothing at all on his face…. You don’t understand. 

You’re shaking. You’re blushing. 

You’re an exhibitionist, but tonight Haechan has you blushing like a virgin. 

Luckily, the others are pretty much distracted. They don’t notice when you thump your head to the side against the wall, when you lower your gaze to your lap to watch the indecent bulge beneath your skirt as Haechan starts moving, thrusting first the one finger, and then as he adds a second. 

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a sound, though Haechan keeps glancing your way as if hoping to catch your lips parted around a silent moan. 

If anyone does look over at you while you’re utterly distracted, then they probably just assume you’ve hit your limit in alcohol. You’re flushed and your eyes are looking a little glazed. You look like you’re about to fall asleep leaning against the wall with your head angled down like that. 

Truly you’re a hot fucking mess. Your upper inner thighs feel slick with arousal. You’re sweating behind your knees, the back of your neck, under your arms. It’s taking everything in you to not just throw caution to the wind entirely, to haul yourself into Haechan’s lap, to kiss him and ride him right here at the table in front of your friends. 

That thought ignites a new level of heat inside you. 

You remember talking about something like that once with Renjun. Imagining cockwarming him in front of your friends. He’d not been too sure about it, but that had been at the start of whatever it was you’d been doing. 

A little sound slips out between your lips. 

Haechan looks at you, his mouth twisting with amusement, teasing words right on the tip of his tongue. 

You grip his thigh, nails biting into his leg even through the pants. Whatever words he was going to say, he swallows down, just watching you eagerly as he fills you again and again with his fingers. Neither of you pay any attention to your friends around the table, each of you too focused on the same goal: your orgasm. 

When it hits, you just close your eyes and ride it out on Haechan’s fingers. The waves of pleasure pulse through you, and you can feel the way that you’re soaking his fingers, the way he keeps pressing in for more and more, until finally you move your hand from his thigh to push his hand away from in between yours. Wetness drips against your thigh as he removes his fingers. You may have squirted just a little bit, and judging by the heat in Haechan’s gaze, he liked it. 

“Need some water?” He asks, voice just loud enough for the others to barely catch it. “Something to sober you up a bit?”

With his clean hand, Haechan pushes a glass of water towards you, the sides of it dripping with condensation. Gladly, you accept it, gulping down a few mouthfuls of icy water before you press the cool glass to your cheek. When you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Xiaojun. 

His gaze flicks away to Haechan, then back to you before he returns his attention to YangYang who’s in the middle of some dramatic retelling of a sleaze from the club the other night. Just once more, Xiaojun glances your way, and you can’t help wondering if he’d noticed. He’s seen you orgasm before, never in public, but he’s no stranger to it. 

You wonder if he’s told his girlfriend that you used to hook up? 

Before you can pay much more thought to that matter, Haechan brings his hand up from beneath the table. While everyone else is hanging on every word of YangYang’s story, Haechan builds himself a little perilla leaf wrap. You watch him, only barely listening to YangYang, more interested in the way that Haechan fingers glisten with your wetness as he holds the perilla leaf to fill it. 

He catches your eye as he bundles the leaf around the filling, and then he all but shoves the entire thing into his mouth. Including his fingers. 

It’s lascivious the way that he basically sucks his fingers clean of your wetness. The way that even after he’s pulled them out, he waits until he’s finished chewing and swallowing the perilla leaf wrap, and then he licks each of his fingers. 

When Chenle eyes him with a mildly disgusted face, Haechan just shrugs. “What? When you’re eating, don’t you know the juice is the best part?”

“I wouldn’t lick my greasy fingers in public like that,” Chenle responds, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well, there’s lots of things people shouldn’t do in public.” Haechan smirks and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

You sit your glass down and lean forward against the table, resting your hand on his leg beneath the table. “You’re interrupting YangYang’s story. Be quiet, Lee Haechan.”

The rest of the night doesn’t last long. YangYang has to go to work, so he just catches a taxi to take him there. Xiaojun and his girlfriend decide to go check out a restaurant of one of his culinary friends for dessert a short distance away. 

“How’re you getting home?” Haechan asks after you’ve all paid and the others have begun to head their own ways. “I know you’re not drunk, but I think you’ve had too much to safely drive yourself.”

Outside, the cool night air brushes against your warm cheeks. You know he’s right. You were drinking quite a bit earlier, and driving wouldn’t be safe. 

“You can take me.” You grab for his arm. “My car is right there. You can just drive me home.”

“Chenle did quick work on Mr. Moon’s car earlier. I have to return it to the parking garage at work. I can’t do both.” Haechan leans against the wall outside the restaurant, looking at you. You can’t help smiling, can’t help gravitating towards him. 

“I can drive.”

You turn around, almost surprised to see Renjun there. His hands are in his pockets, and he even looks a little surprised too. 

“I can drive you home,” he says to you. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the past couple hours. I can take you. Plus, it’s been a little while since we got to talk, just the two of us.”

You nod. “My car is right here.” You point across the street to where your car sits like a piece of garbage behind Mr. Moon’s fancy BMW. Your keys are in your purse, and it takes you a minute of rummaging around to find them, but once you do, you drop them into Renjun’s waiting hand. “And here’re the keys.”

Haechan knocks into your other hand, his knuckles skimming along the back of your hand. “Let me know when you get home, okay? Both of you.”

You’re quite tempted to kiss him goodnight. To drape your arms over Haechan’s shoulders, to taste the saltiness of the samgyeopsal, the sweetness of the soda he’d been drinking too. 

He taps a finger against your forehead. “Don’t fall asleep before you get home. Renjun won’t carry you to bed.”

Renjun laughs. “I could.”

You’re not blind to the look that Haechan shoots at Renjun. A sharp look. A curse embedded in there. The threat that spells out that Renjun had better not even try. 

Wordlessly, Renjun unlocks your car, and with a loud groan (from the car, not from him), he opens the door on the passenger side for you. You slide in, and Haechan fills the open door, fitting himself in between the door and the body of the car, a hand on each one as he looks down at you. 

“Text me once you’re home.” His voice is a gentle command. Your heart warms, and you nod. 

“Goodnight, Haechan.”

The driver’s side door of your car squeals open, and Renjun drops himself into the seat. 

Haechan steps back, closing the door for you, and he just waits there on the sidewalk, watching as Renjun starts the car, as you both buckle in, as Renjun pulls away from the curb. You wave, and Haechan waves back, watching you go. 

You’re still watching him shrink in the reflection of the side mirror when Renjun starts laughing. You look over at him. “What?”

“So you finally succeeded? That’s happening?” He laughs, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fold your arms, checking the mirror again, but Haechan is too far now for you to be able to see him anymore. 

Renjun waits a moment, during which the quiet sound of a turn signal is all that fills the silence. And then, “I’m not blind. Maybe the others were somehow oblivious, but I was sitting right beside Haechan all night. Also, I’ve fingered you around our friends before, I can see the signs.”

“Shut up. You couldn’t tell.” You shoot a look over at him, but he stays focused on the road. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, you just confirmed it for me.” He smiles, sending a short glance over at you before he looks ahead again. “You were too squirmy, and there was a long time that Haechan only had one hand above the table. Guess you found your perfect match in him, didn’t you? Lucky, since you’ve had that crush on him for so long.”

You sigh, tipping your head against the window. “He’s gross, Renjun. A real pervert.” You say those words as if they are compliments, as if you’re calling him dreamy, a real prince.

Renjun makes a noise on the other side of the car, and you’re not sure if it’s disgust or one of intrigue.

“I love it, honestly.” You twist your head to the side. Renjun’s profile is outlined by streetlights in pale amber. “We talked one night recently, and everything came out into the open. The things I’ve done, things he’s done. He’s so much worse than I am.”

Renjun tilts his head. “How? You were constantly begging me to fuck you somewhere public. How could he be worse than that?” He doesn’t say it with any vitriol, but rather like he’s teasing you. You know Renjun was just as eager to do everything as you were.

“He’s been watching people for a long time. I won’t give you all of the details, but did you know that when he went through your phone while we were all in Thailand, he sent himself videos from your camera roll?” 

That makes Renjun’s head finally turn to look at you fully. Luckily you’re stopped at a red light already, so he runs no risk of rear-ending anyone. “He what?”

“It’s just one of the confessions he told me. He didn’t show me them, just told me about them.” You shiver a little with delight as you recall, “He told me that his favorite one is the first one we filmed together, me riding you in my car. And he doesn’t even know that it’s me; I haven’t told him that yet.” You laugh, resting your cheek again on the cool window. “He also said that he wasn’t asleep that final night in Thailand when we messed around right there beside him. He’s a little perv, Renjun, watching us and all of our friends too. It’s just… gross, but I can’t explain it. I like it.”

Now he laughs too. “You’re both gross. I should’ve known that about him. After he spent months crashing on our sofa at school because his roommate caught him being a chronic masturbator.” He shakes his head. “Maybe caught isn’t even the right word.”

You laugh too, but your mind is filled with the vivid imagery of the video Haechan had sent you earlier. His fingers wrapped around his cock. Cum dripping pearly white down his fingers. Your laugh tapers off into a sigh. 

“I’m happy for you,” Renjun says after driving a few moments in silence. “For you and Haechan.”

“I’m not so sure there is a Me and Haechan yet. We just talked. We’ve kissed.” Your heart flutters in your chest, wishing you’d have kissed him goodnight. “He’s sent me a few videos, and we talk of course, and then there was tonight. But we haven’t, like, talked and we haven’t gone on a date or actually had sex. I want it to be a proper thing, not like what you and I did, and not like what Xiaojun and I did.”

“Trust me,” Renjun shares, “The way Haechan looks at you, the way he treats you… he likes you. Genuinely and completely, and both of you are fools if either of you let the other get away. I’ve known him longer than you, and I’ve never seen him the way he gets with you; and he’s been that way for a while now, honestly. When I talk with him, you always come up inevitably, in some way he always twists conversation to mention your name, to tell a funny story or to praise something that you did at work. And he’s always been, like, protective of you, whether you noticed it or not. I don’t think you need to worry about it not becoming a proper thing.”

When Renjun drops you off at your apartment door, you’re left with a lot more than just the car keys that he returns to you. Your mind and chest are buzzing thinking about what you’d talked about in the car. 

You want to call Haechan as soon as you’re inside. You want to hear his voice. You want to tell him that you like him too, because it’s only now that you’ve been mulling over Renjun’s words that you remember that Haechan had confessed the night you first kissed. He’d whispered an “I like you” after you kissed on the street, and you’d been too busy reeling him back in for another kiss to tell him that you like him too. 

You decide maybe you’re still a little tipsy, and maybe you should wait to call him and confess that you like him too until you’re in a clear state of mind. 

So instead of calling him, you just send him the confirmation message that you got home safely. 

And he calls you. 

He’s still driving, returning the car to the parking garage at the office. You talk to him when he’s returning the car, when he’s riding the elevator up to the Moon Corporation’s offices, as he drops the key and the credit card off in Mr. Moon’s office. You keep talking, just keeping him company, as he leaves and rides a cab back to his place. You keep talking to him as you go through your bedtime routine — brushing your teeth, washing your face, using the toilet, changing out of your clothes. 

“I’m home now.” Haechan yawns in your ear after a while. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s been a long everything.” You sigh, sinking into your bed. “About earlier, at the restaurant….”

Haechan hums quietly on his end of the line, and you can hear him close a door, sit his phone down, and from the way sounds are more distant and slightly echoier, you assume he put you on speakerphone. 

“I really enjoyed that.” You stare up at your ceiling, fighting the blush that rises to your cheeks, the heat that flares in your belly as you remember the feel of his fingers — Haechan’s fingers! — against your thighs and inside you, pulling you apart so easily. 

“Me too,” he admits. “Though I would rather have had you spread out on that table so I could get a proper taste of you. The little licks I got off my fingers weren't enough.”

You have to bite back a whimper at the mental image he’s painted. “Haechan… I—I still haven’t gotten to touch you. Or taste you. I feel like I’m at a disadvantage again.”

His voice sounds distant from the phone when he says, “I guess we’d better remedy that, angel. But there’s one thing I need you to do for me before you can get a taste.”

“Hm?” Your heart is racing. 

“Go on a date with me. A real date. Dinner and talking, maybe a movie. Dessert.” Haechan’s voice draws nearer again, and then suddenly you can tell he’s scooped his phone back up, that he’s holding it to his face. “I want to be wined and dined before you have your way with me, babe.”

That makes you laugh. But you quickly agree. 

“A date. Name your time and place, Haechan.”

The smile in his voice is clear when he promises, “I’ll get back to you on that. Goodnight.” 

You haven’t felt so giddy at the idea of a date in a long, long time. How are you meant to fall asleep right now?

“Goodnight, Lee Donghyuck.”

previous chapter || next chapter

a/n: not quite the full thing, but they've finally!! at last!! done something with each other! they're building up towards it lol which I'm sure is torture for all of you who've been dying for them to fuck, but it's coming! I swear!

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 15, In Which You Dance Twist With Mr. Goat (Pulp Fiction Style)

AO3

TAGS: self-harm, sharp objects, glass, politics

There was a time, not so long ago, when you were terrified of flying. 

The mere thought of that huge metal thing plummeting from the sky for no apparent reason (well, the human factor. It's always the human factor), a minute of sheer terror, descent, and then boom.

No survivors.

No bodies ever recovered.

You used to fear situations that so brazenly took control away from you. 

Well, you were wrong; there was something strangely comforting about letting go; about snuggling up in the plush comfort of an oversized leather seat, scrolling through messages on your phone to the roar of the twin engines. 

Raphael's hand was always on your knee, his tail wrapped tightly around your ankle, as if you could escape him on the private jet - or off it. A black diamond ring on your finger sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the oval windows. 

Across from you sat Camilla, while Jens occupied the far corner seat. Yurgir was conspicuously absent; you didn't pry into his reasons, just assumed his size exceeded the weight limit of any aircraft.

A headline in the Daily Mirror caught your eye: "Who is Anya Berger? What do we know about the mysterious girl who won the heart of a billionaire in ten days?"

What do they know, you wondered and clicked.

"Walk me through the panels again," Raul asked. "And the key people to talk to."

"Morning is boring," Korilla replied. "Mental health crisis, supply chain disruptions, sustainability regulations. You start in the afternoon, sir: your first is the AI discussions with the UN Secretary General's Special Envoy for Technology."

"I won't say a word about this soulless drivel," Raphael said, skimming through the agenda.

Camilla choked on her coffee while Jens flinched at her sudden movement, his hand swiftly resting on the gun now.

"Mr D'Avergni, Avernus' portfolio is 15% invested in AI technologies," she said as soon as she collected herself. "What do you mean 'soulless nonsense'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I will not say a word about these abominable technologies. I have been made privy to information that they are cannibalising art and I will not stand for it". 

"Where did you hear this nonsense?" whispered Camilla. "Tumblr? Anya? Is that your doing?"

"I'm totally against AI," you interjected, without looking up from your phone, engrossed in the news article about your grunge heroin chic and manic-girl attitude.

They recommended black nail polish, drawing dark circles under your eyes and perfecting the look of total derangement to repeat your success. There were also some advanced blowjob techniques at the bottom of the article. 

"What is this panel 'Securing an Insecure World'?" asked Raphael. "I quite fancy the name."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with you. This is the macroeconomic panel on the dying middle class, youth problems, inequality, blah blah blah. Fear-mongering."

"Fear-mongering?" said Raphael. "I seem to have found my stage."

Camilla closed her eyes and put on her best smile. The flight attendant glided by in her pressed uniform and replaced your coffee; you were momentarily struck by the amount of cleavage she was showing as your eyes glanced upwards. 

To see very familiar eyes and a smile. Haarlep put a finger to her lips and gave you a little wink. You smiled back.

"Sir," Camilla said gently. "It doesn't work that way. You can't just speak whenever and about whatever you want in a global forum. It's all scripted, all pre-written."

"Astute observation," said Raphael. "Scripted conversations, scripted problems, scripted solutions, no room for improvisation. Davosneeds a breath of fresh air. Of honesty. Of a genuine hope for change".

Camilla said, "Of course, sir," and forced a smile. 

Back to the article: did they really get your ex-boyfriend to give an interview about you? Did he have anything good to say, that bastard who regularly forgot to flush the toilet?

Yes, he had plenty to say, mostly about you being not right in the head. You put him on your hit list and stroked Raphael's tail, which in turn stroked your ankle. They even got your mum on the phone, who thankfully had nothing much to say except that you were a good Catholic girl.

You saw some frantic movement out of the corner of your eye.

Camilla was waving you over to the plane's galley. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tail wrapped around your ankle like a boa constrictor. "May I go to the toilet?" you asked, and Raphael uncoiled his tail, three times, with a slight reproach in his eyes. Jens did his best to keep a straight face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Camilla pulled you deeper into the galley. She smelled of fresh coffee and burnout. 

"Anya, listen, I am very sorry that it has to come to this, but just between us girls..." she said, her fingers fidgeting with her diamond necklace. "Did Raul remember to take his medication today? I don't like his mood”. She shifted on her feet. "God, I miss the days when you could smoke in these things”.

"I'm not his doctor," you shrugged.

"Well, maybe it would be worth reminding him," Camilla drawled. "I'd rather not see viral videos of him committing political suicide in Davos. And I'm sure you'd agree."

You weren't so sure.

"I'm not going to poke the devil, and I suggest you don't either," you said, leaning against the galley counter.

Camilla sighed and gave you a very sympathetic smile.

"Anya, may I give you some friendly advice? Raul may seem like a half-god to you, but I've seen him curled up in a ball sobbing about how Daddy never loved him when he was high as a kite on coke. He's... as human as the rest of us. For better and worse”.

Just then, the plane shook violently, sending you both clutching the walls for support. The pilot quickly apologized over the intercom.

"Don't patronise me, Korilla," you said. "Do you think I'm just some pathetic, love-struck girl Raul likes to abuse?"

Camilla paused for a moment before suppressing a grin. "I'm going to invoke my right against self-incrimination. So tell me, my dear: who are you really?"

"Much more than meets the eye." You straightened up, standing slightly taller than her (which was not difficult). "I'm the one who gave him all this power in the first place."

"Wow," Kamilla snorted out in surprise. "Wow. Okay. Cool. Never mind."

"You need proof?" you said quietly. 

"Not really," she said.

"I wish you would get down on your knees and kiss my hand."

"What?" Kamilla burst out laughing. "Maybe you should share your medicine with Raul. Ask Dr Bambauer for a family discount. He will be at Davos, by the way, speaking on the mental health crisis".

"I wish for you to kiss my hand," you insisted. "Come on, do it, I have a point to prove."

You really need to learn how to calibrate these things. This one worked, though; she complied, sinking to her knees before you, a wild look in her eyes. Then she planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on your palm, leaving a crimson mark. 

"What the hell?" she whispered as she looked up at you. Raphael was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the scene, so was Jens.

"See, Korilla," you started again after letting the moment hang awkwardly in the air for longer than necessary, "don't worry about Raphael talking nonsense. You'd be surprised how many people eat it up."

"Who the fuck is Raphael?"

"Your new boss," you said. "Well, old boss actually. Ahh... you won't really notice much of a difference; I hardly do myself sometimes," you lowered your voice to a minimum. "But don't tell them that, they'll get angry. You can get up now, this is getting a bit weird."

She tried to say something, her lips barely moving. You think it was 'how'. She was asking ‘how’.

"You see," you said. "The devil thinks I am very, very  special”.

Having said that, you came back to your seat. Raphael's tail immediately darted to your ankle and wrapped around it. You leaned back in your chair and watched Haarlep flirting with the pilot out of the corner of your eye.

It would be really stupid to crash because Haarlep wanted to have a quickie in the cockpit. The plane began its descent to Samedan St Moritz airport. The rugged Swiss Alps came into view out the window, snow-capped peaks glistening in the afternoon sun. 

***

When you book a presidential suite you no longer have to check in, you can just walk straight past the reception. The hotel was a mountain resort so exclusive that the website was just an artistic photo with no way to reserve a room. 

Raphael was eerily calm as he watched the staff unpack your belongings. His calm demeanour lasted until some poor sap nearly wrinkled his suit while trying to hang it in the en-suite cloakroom. A deafening growl sent the trembling fellow scuttling from the room.

The rest were given very generous tips.

Soon after, you found Raphael rehearsing his speech in a mirror, repeating the same phrases three times in a row, "when youth was told their souls were worthless, easily replicated by machines". Each time he spoke, there was a subtle change in tone, as if he was trying to capture some emotion - you were not quite sure what he was getting at - was he trying to imitate genuine concern? 

If so, he could work on his delivery.

He gave it another shot, the tension in his back muscles evident through his shirt.

"Excellent choice of attire, gattina," he gave you a look you approached. "Might I suggest an improvement? Not these trousers. The black pencil skirt with the white vertical stripes, the Saint Laurent one from the spring collection."

"It looks absurd on me," you looked away. "I don't have the body for it."

"You have the body for anything," he said. "Don't debate me on this. Slip into the skirt, return here and see how right I am”.

That damned skirt was a nightmare: so constricting that any wrong move felt like a tear waiting to happen; clearly designed by someone who either had never laid eyes on an actual woman or harbored a deep-seated resentment towards anyone the wrong size and proportion, which would be everyone. 

Yet somehow, you managed to wriggle yourself into it and made your way back to him.

"Now that's what I want to see," Raul smiled. "A beautiful woman and all mine."

"It's two sizes smaller than what I wear".

"Come closer, you silly creature, and grasp how breathtaking you are."

He tugged you towards the full-length mirror and swept your hair to one side so that you could take in your entire reflection.

Only it wasn’t yours.

When you played Sims and tweaked the controls to create the ideal you, you ended up with someone like this. Every trait similar to what you had, only better. A lot better. Smoother skin, better hair, smaller waist, perkier tits.

"They will see you through my eyes," Raphael said as his hands slid under your blouse and cupped your breasts. "These mortals will seethe with jealousy, envying me for having you and you for having me."

The woman in the mirror looked like someone Raphael would choose to be his consort. The skirt looked perfect, as it was tailor made just for you. 

"That’s not me," you said, mesmerized by the eerie reflection.

"Nonsense. You didn't know who you truly were until you met me," he whispered in your ear. "If it's not you I'm putting my arms around, why would you feel them?"

You felt his palms squeeze your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. His lips brush your neck. His growing bulge against your backside.

"Now would you be so kind?.." he asked. 

You could swear the woman in the mirror was bending over before you did, eagerly offering herself, sliding her panties down to her knees and placing her palms on either side of the mirror for leverage. His hands kneaded your buttocks, spreading you apart as his erection pressed against your entrance.

Foreplay wasn't on his agenda, you realized with a shiver. True enough, he penetrated you with a single thrust. First sharp pain, then the very familiar pleasure, liquid and pitch black and all-consuming.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at me. Marvel at what you see."

The woman in the mirror moaned in response, pleasure etched on her face as the devil behind her ravaged. Her features twisted and blurred in ever-changing motion, skin wobbling like waves of water; she was shifting between all the women you ever dreamed of being - one moment Tav, then Christine, then Sarah Williams.

"It's not real," you moaned. 

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror the whole time he fucked you. You arched backwards into him, grinding against him with each thrust, skin slapping against skin.

"There is no reality," he whispered back. "Other than what you see in that mirror”.

His thrusts came harder now, jolting you against the cold glass. The woman in the mirror seemed to have gone insane from how well she was being fucked, her face twisted in a barely human grimace of bliss.

"Climax," he commanded with a snap of his fingers.

You saw the woman in the mirror go limp in his arms, a look of absent bliss on her face, and then remember that the woman was you. A jagged sound ripped from you. Your body responded to the command like a dog thrown a biscuit; your cunt tightened around his cock once.

Twice. 

The woman in the mirror morphed again; now it’s someone you’d seen a thousand times, the weird pale girl nobody ever gave a second look. 

You. 

Thrice.

The mirror you were propped against shattered - spectacularly so, its razor-sharp fragments raining down like confetti.

"Hang on," you managed to gurgle out in sheer terror as you tumbled, losing your balance. "Raphael, hold on..."

He didn't. Instead, he let gravity take over and you fell face-first into the broken mirror below, his weight following right after. Your scream of pleasure morphed into a wail of agony as countless tiny shards opened up on your skin; mutilating, cutting, obliterating. 

oh god it hurts 

Raphael groaned as he drove you deeper and deeper into the jagged fragments, your writhing and screaming doing nothing to deter him. The shards under your skin thrust in and out with each thrust, piercing right through you, through your face.

oh god it hurts; pulsated the single thought. The pain was nothing like you had felt before; it was the clearest sensation your clouded mind had ever processed.

A growing pool of blood spread like spilled wine on the white marble tiles beneath you. You closed your eyes tightly, but that didn't make the blood disappear. You blinked them open again... then closed them... 

Blood was still there. Raphael thrust once, so hard there wasn’t a single shard left that didn’t hurt you. 

Twice.

Three times, and he came inside you, spitting curses in Italian between ragged breaths. 

The pain suddenly vanished as if snapped away by his fingers; but its ghostly memory kept your tears flowing.

"I swear to God, kitten" Raul murmured as he rolled off you, "the way you're screaming would make anyone think I'm murdering you."

You opened your eyes and stared at the perfectly white tiles.

No blood.

No shards. No cuts. No pain.

Nothing. You looked up in the mirror: the Gorgeous Version of You looked back. You looked down on yourself. 

Exactly how you always wanted to be. 

You laughed in blissful abandon. Then, you rolled onto your back, catching sight of Raul's gobsmacked expression which made you laugh even harder.

read the rest on ao3

[keepswingin]

Chan + crush

It starts out like anything else does, until it turns into something completely out of control. Which really isn't all that surprising when it comes to his life, because these kinds of things always turn into something big.

"Did the company tell you what to say yet?" Minho asks with a drawl that says he already knows the answer, lounging on the couch as soon as Chan enters their dorm.

He was originally coming over to theirs to drag Jeongin with him to get dinner, but he isn't all that surprised that it's Minho he sees first. 

"What do you think?" he sighs, pulling the door shut behind him. He leans on the arm of the couch, weight sagging against it. "They're going to try and brush it off as an 'unsupported rumor'." He gestures sarcastically as he says it, causing Minho to smirk and roll his eyes.

"Try to sound less enthused about it," he replies, eyes drifting back to the television.

There's some show on about baking desserts. Minho's only half paying attention to it, Chan knows, more interested in hearing about things the internet has already raked through ten times over.

"They do realize that she had proof in her post, right? No one is going to believe that all of it is nothing but a rumor." He says it simply, mostly because they both know there's no sugarcoating when it comes to something as big as this.

He does know, and almost hates to admit that there's a small part of him that wished that the company couldn't just run this entire thing over and leave it for dead in the middle of the road.

She was more than that; they were more than that.

He knew exactly what he was putting on the line, and exactly in which ways they could move him around, but none of it mattered when she was the one it was all centered around. 

"Did you know she was going to post?" Minho asks quietly, when the silence between them has dragged on for a moment too long.

Chan bristles, readjusting himself against the furniture and turning his eyes back to the television. The host is cracking eggs and mixing them in with just enough butter. Chan thinks back to the cake he had shared on his birthday, and the shy smile she had shot him as he had blown out the candles and made his wish. The shine of her eyes against the streetlight outside -

"No," he replies, very quietly. "I didn't." 

They lapse into another silence. It stretches, long and thin. They hear Felix yell from down the hall, and Jeongin's following cackle of victory. The water squeaks as it's turned on by Hyunjin in the bathroom, and stays as a steady constant in the background as the host finishes mixing the cake batter. 

"Are you glad she did it?"

Chan crosses his arms. Considers if sitting here with Minho would be better than attempting to drag Jeongin shopping, and face the paparazzi that is sure to follow. Dispatch is sure to already be having a heyday, he can't help but think with a small quirk of his lips.

His mind drifts, and he finds himself not answering Minho's question, instead tugging his phone free from his sweatshirt pocket. He scrolls through social media for a long moment, before opening up Bubble, and shooting a quick message that is sure to add more fire to the flame, and then he waits. 

One minute, two. Her reply comes to him by the fifth minute, in the form of a screenshot of his Bubble chat.

channie: happily taken <3

He smiles as he watches her chat bubbles disappear and reappear multiple times, before finally landing one simple word.

happily?

He thinks this might just be the easiest decision he's ever had to make.

nothing makes me happier than being with you.

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Fine Feet

Male Reader x Kim Minju

Length: 1238 words

Tags: feet kink, yup, feet licking, feet worship, feet fucking, white polish and other white stuff, choking, making out, surprisingly soft, Daddy kink, perfect_baby_girl!Minju

TW: feet and a lack of editing lol

Inspiration and Credit: @sooyadelicacies, my partner in crime. Love you, buddy.

(A/N: Another for Minju on Minju Day! Truly the only one, prettiest, most perfect, wonderful Angel. Enjoy!)

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Minmin, you haven't completed your training, because you don't know how to use your feet." 

"What does that mean, Daddy?"

Minju looks so innocent, laying on the bed tummy side, her bare feet in the air. Her eyes sparkle, not of pureness as they used to, but of excitement because of that one word: training.

"Stay just like this," you say, your heart thumping against your chest. You climb behind Minju and kneed her soft soles, "Minmin baby girl, all of Daddy's whores—yes they can suck cock, yes they have tight holes and know to be good girls—but what truly separates them from any other—" 

You slowly raise her feet and bring her toes to your nostrils and inhale. The feeling on their bottom side is admirable and a soft sheen of light hitting her soles makes them look like a golden item in a video game. They are something you can’t resist, you need to take it, touch it, experience it.

"Hng, Daddy, that tickles," Minju giggles gleefully. 

"They all have these gorgeous feet," you continue, not paying attention to Minju's reaction, not even her moans when you begin to suck on her toes and lick down her soles with lust. It's almost as if you were starving and lapping at the only delicious thing you had. You switch from licks to kisses to then graze her beautiful soles and then spread your saliva on every part of pale skin.

Minju looks over her shoulder, her wet orbs jiggle lightly as she savors your enjoyment of her feet. But they are not perfect. Something is missing.

"Minmin, why are you not wearing any polish?"

"Huh?" Minju responds, visibly dazed, a bit of drool in the corner of her mouth. For this thoughtless behavior, you spank her firm ass. Horny anger overtakes you for a split second and you shout:

"Get up and put it on now!"

Minju's feet quickly leave your grip, which you will only lament for a short while. She quickly disappears in the bathroom. At least she learned to leave the door unlocked.

Shake your head rapidly, then take a deep breath. This isn't you. Maybe the lack of sleep lately has gotten to you. Your self-control is at a low point. Irrational and quick behavior, just because of a pair of feet. 

It's not any pair of feet. No, that is true, you tell yourself and look down. Your dress pants have bulge. Not the first time that this happened, but today it twitches exceptionally strong. You flex your thighs and calves to get some of the blood out. It feels like Minju left forever ago, but it's probably just been two minutes.

The clock has never moved this slowly. At times like these, you're happy that a smartphone can be so distracting. You pull the device out, scroll through mails, messages, and a dozen missed calls. The deal is close to being done, but huge barriers are ahead of you.

Look up from your phone. Barely ten minutes. That has to be enough time. You unbuckle your belt while darting for the bathroom door. Open it slowly so as to not scare the clumsy Minju too much. 

You can't help but gasp. Fuck, Minju looks too damn good sitting on the empty counter. Her face is too pretty, her thighs too smooth, her feet too fuckable. She puts aside the white polish and with an adorable smile and faint blush, shows you the painting on her nails.

“Does it look good, Daddy?”

You wordlessly reach for her feet and place them on your crotch. Then you go for her face, cupping it with both hands and initiating a swift torrent of kisses on her lips. Minju moans in surprise. Her breath is still quick when you disconnect your mouth from hers.

"Keep rubbing your feet on it," you command gently and put your thumb on her lips. This might be the most beautiful she has ever been and her natural skill of grinding her feet on your bulge makes you want to own her even more than you already do. 

"Daddy's hand," Minju whispers dazedly. She begins to kiss your thumb, then moves into your palm and to your wrist. Her lips place wet kisses everywhere and you react with a long groan. A simple tug with your free hand and your pants fall down to reveal your fully erect member.

Minju's soft soles wrap around your cock like her pussy does everyday. It's muscle memory for you to reach for her throat at this point, not necessarily to choke her, but to show her how much you own her. She gives into it easily, her eyes closing as you begin to thrust in the gap of her feet.

"Shit, this—fuck."

Awkward. You fail to string a proper sentence together. In an attempt to forget this tiny slip up, you begin to jolt your hips forward then backwards. Of course, it's unlike any pussy, but you tried to treat it that way. This gap has to be fucked with more care. In other words, it's time to take Minju softly, which is as rare as the sun hiding behind the moon.

Spit in your hand and lube up your cock a little. Minju giggles at the tingly sensation at her feet. She finds a better position for what you're trying to do. Even with her eyes closed, she learns to adapt. Her fresh polish glows in beautiful white and you begin to give her feet a good, slow fucking.

"Daddy~" Minju coos and you press down on her throat a bit, "I-I'm glad you like them."

You won't admit it to her, but you actually like everything about her. Each part of her body wows you day in and day out. A new found love for her nooks and crannies, curves and holes, for her horny and not-horny personality. With a sigh you give in and kiss her forehead, her cheek, to make it rosier.

"You're doing so good, Minmin," you say and groan when you're able to pick up the pace a little. The softness stimulates the sides of your cock, but the texture is the reason why you might actually cum. All you need is this tiny kick, this burst that will make you burst. You lean into Minju's ear and whisper a spell.

"Move them, Minmin. Move them like you move your hips when I fuck your. Daddy will give you his load. Do it!"

Minju opens her dizzy eyes a tiny bit and starts to jerk off your cock. You hold onto her shoulder and throw your head back. This orgasm is approaching faster than you anticipated, but you're not holding back. You can only think of Minju's white polish as your white shoots out of your throbbing cock. Ropes splash onto the counter top, up to Minju's shorts and her long sleeve. She hides her blushing face behind one hand.

"Hng~ Daddy likes Minmin's feet so much," she moans somewhat shyly.

You regain control with one breath and bite down on her lip. It's not enough to make her bleed, but Minju still flails and surrenders to you. She is yours. You then shove your fingers down her shorts and feel for her soaking wet slit. Of course she is like this.

"I think my Minmin deserves to cum for being such a good girl."

[aerodaltonimperial]

(Forced some words just to make sure I could. Short, silly ficlet. Whatever these two got going on is not normal.)

“I told you to put an AirTag in his luggage last time it was in the Elite locker room,” Matthew says. “You didn’t do it, and now—”

“I didn’t do it,” Nicholas replies, “because every time I walked over to that side of the room, he looked at me like he knew exactly what was I doing.”

Matthew groans. “Well, having him be suspicious then would be better than him being missing now!”

“Just text him again.”

“I’ve texted him five times,” Matthew says. “He’s answered none of them. He hasn’t answered me in days because for some reason, he never thinks he has to.”

“I asked the EA to figure out what happened with his flight, and she hasn’t gotten back to me,” Nicholas says.

“Dock her pay. This is ridiculous. We should have the flight numbers anyway if—”

“I asked him for his flight number earlier in the week,” Nicholas waves his phone around a few times. “He doesn’t answer me, either!”

“Okay,” Matthew says, “we’ll just—”

“He’s at the airport,” Darby interrupts, from the table behind them, and both Matthew and Nicholas freeze, then turn in tandem. Darby’s got his boots up on the opposite chair, like a heathen, and is scrolling lazily through his phone.

“What?” Nicholas asks.

Darby shrugs. “You chucklefucks have been talking about this, out loud, in catering, for the past fucking ten minutes. I just texted him.”

“Why do you even have his number?” Nicholas demands.

“And he answered?” Matthew says, incredulous. “Wait, what did you text?”

Darby reads from his screen: “‘Hey, where you at, you dumb bitch, I wanna punch your face in.’ And he replied, ‘Stuck waiting for car at airport, you clown college reject. You can beat me up when I get there.’” Darby lifts his chin to look at the other two. “He sounds cranky.”

Nicholas stares at Darby. “What?”

“Ask him how long until he gets here,” Matthew orders.

Darby grumbles, but his fingers tap into the screen. The room goes quiet, footsteps out in the hallway. Matthew waits with growing impatience—because first of all, what the hell is even happening where Darby gets responses from Jack before they do, and secondly, why has Jack decided that he is simply too important to answer them in the first place?

“Well?” Nicholas says. “What did you say?”

“Jesus Christ.” Darby sighs. “I said ‘ETA? Hate your stupid fucking face. Also catering has chocolate mousse pie today.’ And he replied, ‘Probably thirty minutes. Your ugly mug haunts my dreams. Save me a slice.’”

“I… “ Nicholas seems unable to complete his thought. “I don’t…?”

“What do you text each other?” Matthew asks.

“Threats,” Darby replies, breezy. “Vaguely sinister Instagram reels. A lot of knife and skull emojis. Although the other night we were promising to pick out each other’s coffins for Wembley; you guys got, like, a catalog for that? ‘Cause I’m gonna make his obnoxious.”

Matthew’s temples are throbbing. “What? No.”

“Ugh, fine. We’ll just do it online, then.”

Nicholas. “Hold on. You’re saying he always answers?”

“Jack? Yeah, he’s a fast replier.” Darby shrugs again, that absurd pink coat he insists on wearing every single day shifting around his shoulders. “Whatever. Now you know where he is. I gotta go get a slice of pie so I can smash it into his hair when he finally shows up, cause that’s gonna take forever to wash out, so fuck you very much, E-V-Shitheads.”

He gets up and wanders back over to the dessert table, while Nicholas looks at Matthew with alarm written over his features. “Fine him for the language?”

“I mean, yes, obviously, but…” Matthew’s a bit preoccupied now, in account of trying to figure out what on earth is happening here. “Should we be concerned about this?”

“Should probably be concerned about Jack not sending us his flight numbers,” Nicholas mumbles. “And the EA dragging her feet about it.” He watches Darby pick up one of the mousse plates. “This does not feel excellent.”

“No, it does not,” Matthew agrees, and then he looks at his own phone, where Jack has still not texted him back despite his five messages of where are you? with an increasing amount of question marks attached.

[shubblelive]

— BACKSTAGE PASS

— summary : will has always loved hamilton, but that's definitely not the reason he goes to see it live more than five times.

— genre : fluff

— warnings : barely any dialogue, mentions of a panic attack, food/eating, mentions of character death (reader's on-stage son dies but it's discussed for like one second)

— pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!actress reader

— featuring : cc!wilbur soot, cc!tommyinnit, cc!tubbo, cc!nihachu, cc!shubble, cc!jack manifold, cc!philza (with his wife), cc!ranboo (pretty much all just mentioned, will, tommy and niki are the only ones with dialogue)

— pronouns : she/her (used once, but reader does play a female character)

— word count : 1.3k

— note : reader plays eliza in 'hamilton' but you don't have to have seen the show to understand the fic. also ig this is part 2 to my willbur x musical thetre reader but it's not connected in any way to the other one.

it was opening night, and you were resisting a panic attack in your dressing room. one of the stage hands was tugging hopelessly at the skirt of your dress, desperately trying to hide your mic with the skirt. you hadn't had a rehearsal with this exact dress before, since it had had needed alterations, but you had one with a similar one, and none of the costume designers had realised your mic pack would stick out so obviously. curtains were due to open in ten, you could hear people from backstage, and no one wanted you to go onstage with a lump in your costume, which had been fitted to rest perfectly against your skin.

you were scrolling through your phone, trying desperately to calm down. you were trending on twitter along with some of your costars, and you flicked your thumb up and clicked on something random on the trending list, assuming you would just see a bunch of tweets about bitcoin or something that you didn't care about.

instead, the first tweet was from someone you had never heard of. "@ tommyinnit have you seen hamilton?" you clicked out of it, expecting to see the tag was about the show, when in reality it was about the person who tweeted. wilbur was his name, and according to the trending page, he had done a twitch stream and sung one of the songs. you hestitantly went back onto it, slightly curious. you'd never heard of this guy, but from the videos he seemed funny, goofy in a slightly awkward way. one of the responses - the top one - was a reply from tommyinnit himself, though you had no idea who he was either. it was a picture of wilbur with another guy, presumably him, with the hamilton sign in the background, waiting to get in their seats. "no, only lame people go and watch musicals."

"hey," one of the stage hands touched your elbow gently. "we got you another mic set, we got six minutes until curtain, eight 'till you're on. we got this," you helped as she undid your blouse, unhooked the mic, and you spent the next few minutes on a walkie with some of the tech crew making sure it was working properly." you had just done the top of your dress back up when you heard the opening notes play, you taking your position sidestage.

wilbur was wedged into a seat between tommy and jack, wishing he'd accepted niki's option of swapping seats. she was with ranboo, tubbo and shubble over near the aisle, while they were right in the middle. since it was opening night and the show was overwhelmingly popular, they hadn't managed to get seats all together. luckily, they could sit in groups of three, with phil and kristin sitting a few rows back. but unluckily for wilbur, tommy wouldn't shut up.

the lights were dimming, and he had to elbow the blonde boy in the rib and gesture to the stage so he didn't get shushed by someone nearby. the opening notes began and will finally allowed himself to feel excited. he watched as all the familiar characters came on, finally getting the visuals to accompany the soundtrack he fell in love with. burr, laurens, lafayette, mulligan before finally alexander hamilton himself. the only reason he knew who anyone was before their names were said was literally because he had listened to it so much he could tell their voices apart without the visual component.

you glided onstage, beige skirt billowing out as he started singing, and wilbur found his eyes glued to you. you were in the background for most of the opening number, except for when you interacted with hamilton.

tommy jabbed him in the rib, wiggling his eyebrows as he tilted his head towards you. you weren't in the first few songs much, except in the rafters, but wilbur watched you. finally, the first parts of your song came on, and he sat up straighter as he watched you and your two sisters come on.

the show was incredible, he knew it would be. the way you all moved around the stage, with the music vibrating through his hands resting on the armrests. the music, the atmosphere, the acting, they all enhanced the experience of something that already brought wilbur a great amount of joy. but when he watched as the dancers surreptitiously picked up the paper they'd thrown everywhere until the stage was clean except for you, a fake stone bench, a lantern and a bucket. he had goosebumps, watching tears roll down your cheek as the paper in your hand burned, flames slowly growing. you threw the letter down into the bucket, grabbing your long skirt and marching to the front of the stage.

he could even hear tommy and jack's breath hitch in their throats as you belted. it was a sad song, of course, but you made wilbur want to go and punch the guy who played your husband.

"she's good," tommy commented. all wilbur could do was nod. he was almost relieved when you finished your last note, not wanting to see you so heartbroken. his relief only lasted for one song, before suddenly the lights snapped down and you let out distraught scream, watching as your son died in your arms.

he was crying, jack was crying, even tommy was sniffling. the rest of the show was more political, thankfully. but for the last song, watching you stand centrestage with the entire cast behind you as you sobbed, wilbur was already mentally searching for tickets in his mind.

after that, they went to mcdonalds, tommy's phone sitting on the table vlogging them. "what did you think, will?" niki nudged him gently with her elbow.

"mhm" will looked distractedly into his fries. "good,"

when she didn't reply, his head snapped up. niki sat across from him, eyebrows raised. his cheeks burned as she laughed, not meanly, and he hoped desperately that tom would have the tact not to put that in the video.

he did eventually get three more tickets for two days later, and phil and kristin agreed to go and see the show again with him. this time he was able to focus on you in the background more since he'd already see the show.

your costume, a billowing blue dress, made you look absolutely gorgeous and will couldn't take his eyes off you. your character had one of the saddest arcs and his heart broke whenever tears welled up in your eyes. he was never able to cry on command, and the fact that you could filled him with admiration.

now, you didn't recognise everyone. you'd seen literally thousands of people over the last three days. but you saw wilbur. it helped that you already knew who he was (you'd stalked his instagram after opening night), but you noticed him the second time he came.

and the third time, a week later. it was a big theatre, but somehow your eyes zoned in on him.

perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part, but he'd made eye contact with you twice. he'd followed you on twitter after that third show and almost had a stroke when he saw you follow him back.

over the next month, two things happened:

1. he went and saw you two more times

2. phil tweeted "@ wilbursoot are we streaming tonight or are you going to watch hamilton for a sixth time?"

he'd laughed, scoffing at phil's tweet, ready to type up the site to find tickets and take a photo to continue on with the bit. then he saw your reply.

"@ wilbursoot if you're not already sick of the show, i might be able to get you some free tickets?"

well he would be stupid not to take them.