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thelostconsultant · 2 months

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Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #invisible string

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dreamcubed · 1 year

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i think he knows | theodore nott x reader

song; i think he knows [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x ravenclaw!fem!reader genre; not actually unrequited love, s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, theo's lack of communication summary; you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

masterlist

"wanna see what's under that attitude."

—————————————

Truth was, you knew you weren't special for having your attention caught by Theodore Nott. Despite his almost entirely anti-social personality and apparent grumpiness, many girls longed after him. You completely understood, of course; there was something enticing about a potentially misunderstood quiet boy, and the idea of becoming the one person they show affection to was self-indulging.

The fact of the matter, as your best friend, Cho, frequently pointed out, was that you had never even so much as spoken to him. You hoped he at least knew you existed, from the times you had been praised in class for your assignments, but you had no proof that he even recognised your face.

"Babe, it's sixth year now- that's over five years of you fancying Nott," Cho said as she caught your gaze lingering over to the Slytherin table again. It was your second day back after summer, so you had a lot of long-distance admiring to catch up on.

"Okay, so?" you replied, not even bothering to move your eyes away from the object of your desires.

"So, it's time that you do something about it," she continued, shovelling scrambled eggs on to both her plate and yours, "Do you really want to leave Hogwarts without any dating experience?"

You finally prized your eyes away from Nott, opting instead to meet your concerned best friend's gaze, "I don't think it's the sort of time to be thinking about dating."

"It's especially the time to think about it," she said, "Our lives may be shorter than we think they are - don't die with regrets."

You sighed, unable to argue.

"Plus, it really wouldn't hurt to have some positivity around here. You can feel how much heavier the air is than before."

That, you had to agree with. People were still laughing in their friend groups throughout the hall, sure, but there was a lingering sense of dread that had stuck with everyone since the Triwizard Tournament and reign of Umbridge, and it was only getting worse.

"Maybe," you finally concluded, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast.

"You have nothing to lose," she added, "Your social circles are completely separate, and, you're pretty as fuck."

You couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Even if that's true, I'm completely inexperienced."

"It's not that hard."

"Yeah, says the girl who had both Hogwarts champions drooling over her. No offence, babe, but you're biased."

"That could just have easily been you if you'd ever spoken to either of them."

"Whatever you say."

Cho sighed, deciding to not argue any further with you on the matter - for now.

***

It was amazing how potions went from your least favourite subject to your favourite after Slughorn took over from Snape. The lessons were no longer a fear-inducing chore, but instead a time of laughter and enjoyable learning: the way it should be.

Harry Potter especially seemed to be flourishing in the subject, much to the dismay of Hermione Granger, who usually took the spot at the top of the class. You were glad to not be a part of their constantly hectic lifestyles, although you had almost been when Cho had a thing with Harry the year prior.

Regardless, your main focus during potions was the gorgeous Slytherin boy who sat across the classroom from you - another of the best students in the class. Your seat was stationed at the perfect angle to sneak glances at him without raising too much suspicion: you definitely hadn't ensured that a few weeks ago during the first lesson or anything.

"Shit, I forgot the anjelica," you muttered to yourself, gazing at the list of ingredients in front of you as you had been wondering why your potion was a navy blue when it was meant to be a royal blue.

You left your station to head over to the ingredients cupboard, where you gazed at the arrangement before you. It was organised alphabetically, so your eyes shifted to the top left hand corner where you spotted the jar that you were after.

You stood on your tiptoes in attempt to reach it, but after failing, you huffed, going to pull out your wand instead. That was when a hard chest pressed against your back and a large pale hand grasped the very jar that you were in dire need of. You turned around quickly only to spot the guy you had fancied for an unhealthy amount of time - and his face was shockingly close to yours. His scent swarmed your nostrils, making your knees weak.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

Coming to your senses, you cleared your throat, "Uh, I need some of that anjelica- please."

His eyes shifted down to the jar in his hand as he stepped back slightly. The added distance meant that you could finally breathe.

Nott presented the jar to you, and you gratefully took it, thanking him in the process. As you went to open it and take what you needed, he left the cupboard and went back to his station, which was in view of where you were. You remained shocked for a few moments: did he not need some of the herb? His eyes locked on to yours from where he now was, making you panic and quickly depart the cupboard with the jar still in your hand.

Rowena, how did Cho expect you to ask him out when you couldn't even make eye contact with him?

***

The following morning, you were sat at breakfast with Cho and your other fellow Ravenclaws, busy discussing the latest ancient runes essay that you had to complete. Just as you began to discuss the difficulties you had with writing the conclusion, you were interrupted by the sound of owls from above. The morning post had arrived.

Typically, you didn't get anything. Maybe the occasional letter from your mother, but that was about it. So, you were mildly surprised to see an envelope drop in front of you.

It was a very small envelope: that was the most confusing part. You couldn't think as to why your mother wouldn't send a normal-sized letter, but you opened it nonetheless. Only, the contents of the envelope made your stomach drop as dread filled your bones and veins.

A tiny note was enclosed, that wasn't addressed or signed, and it simply read "I see you staring at me". Instinctively, your eyes looked up and over to the Slytherin table, where Theodore Nott sat, evidently having been watching you this entire time. His face was completely blank, until he arched an eyebrow at you - clearly a favoured expression of his - which made you begin panicking.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Only Cho, who was sat next to you, heard your profanities, and turned to you with confusion adorning her face. "What is it?"

You passed the note over to her, still gazing at Nott who now had the slightest of amused smirks tugging on his lips.

"Oh, fuck," Cho mimicked you, finally making you prize your eyes away from the boy, "Yeah, I see why you're panicking."

"This is going to socially ruin me," you sighed, "He'll probably tell the other Slytherins and then they'll bully me until the end of my school career."

"Okay, catastrophising much?" she said, gently slapping you, "Nott like never talks, I highly doubt he divulges his friends with personal information."

"Yeah, his personal information!" you whisper-yelled.

"I mean, maybe he likes you back."

"What?"

"He doesn't indicate at all in that note that he's mad at you for staring at him."

"Yeah, but, don't you think he'd go about it in a different way if he returned the feelings?"

Cho paused to think for a moment, "No, actually. Maybe he was pretty sure that you were staring at him, but needed to confirm it. So, he wrote that note to you, intentionally not signing it, to see if you would immediately look to him after reading it."

Your eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, are you saying I could have still saved myself, but instead instantly looked in his direction like a fucking idiot?"

"Y/N," she hit your arm, "I think this is a good thing. Try and be more optimistic."

"Easy for you to say."

***

You felt sick to your stomach as you arrived at your potions lesson that day, keeping your head down as you took your usual seat. Normally, this would be when you'd steal your first glance at Theodore Nott, but the thought of seeing his face again paralysed you with fear.

"Y/N, relax," Cho whispered to you, but her words were futile. Relaxation seemed impossible in times like this.

"Today, class, I want you to pair up with someone you don't usually work with," Professor Slughorn announced, "By that I mean, someone who isn't from your house and doesn't sit on your table."

You mumbled a curse under your breath as people began to move around, looking up to try and locate the nice Hufflepuff girl you sat next to in history of magic. Only, Cho had already disappeared to her side, and they were chatting happily with each other. Rowena, this was bad. You didn't have the biggest social circle.

"Excellent, everyone seems to be in pairs," Slughorn spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Looking to your side, you were shocked to see that Nott had silently sat next you, and was gazing at you intently.

"Hi," you squeaked, flashbacks of breakfast flooding back to you.

He gave you a curt nod, and turned back to face the front.

You didn't listen to a single instruction that Slughorn gave after that, as your brain was much too pre-occupied with concepts of social suicide and humiliation. Was Nott just trying to torture you?

"L/N," a deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. That was it. The first time you had ever heard Theodore Nott speak.

You turned to him, only to realise that everyone was standing up and getting ingredients - had you really been that spaced out?

It must have been evident in your facial expression that you had no idea what was going on, because Nott opened his potions book and pointed at the potion that you were making. You looked at the ingredient list, but you couldn't say that you were actually taking any of it in.

Clearly, Nott was aware of this fact, and let out a small sigh that made you feel exceptionally guilty. Regardless, he walked over to the ingredients cupboard himself without another word and soon returned with everything you needed. In the meantime, you had snapped out of your stupor and set up the cauldron and cutting board. You didn't want him to completely regret pairing up with you.

What potion were you even making? You finally processed the words on the page: amortentia. Your eyes widened.

This might not end well.

***

You had never thought being a remarkable potion maker - who was collaborating with a fellow remarkable potion maker - would be a bad thing. It turned out that it very much could be when the steam from your concoction wafted up your nose, overwhelming your senses with the smell of intertwined chestnut and paper money. As if the faint scent of Nott that you picked up on whenever he walked past didn't make you nervous enough, now it filled the entire room, since you certainly weren't the only capable potion makers in the class.

"Alright, class, it seems that we have all about finished," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "And, now, for my favourite part."

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

"Miss Parkinson, what does the potion smell like to you?"

"Uh," the girl flushed a bit, her eyes flicking towards Draco Malfoy, "I don't know how to describe it - clean, expensive. Like a really fancy fragrance."

"Fascinating, most fascinating," Slughorn replied, his eyes gleaming, "Mr Nott, what about you?"

Were you already about to hear him speak for the second time? He hadn't spoke throughout the entire potion making process, which, to be honest, you were kind of glad for.

"Coconut," he said simply, "And vanilla."

Your breath hitched.

You used coconut shampoo.

Your favourite perfume was a vanilla scent.

"That is most interesting!" Slughorn grinned, "It is fascinating to hear what enraptures you all the most!"

You didn't realise that your eyes had glued on to Nott as Slughorn proceeded to ask other students what amortentia smelled of to them until the Slytherin boy turned to face you and raised a singular eyebrow.

You felt warm underneath his gaze.

He smirked.

***

You packed up at the end of the lesson, preparing to return to the Ravenclaw tower until dinner time along with Cho who was still across the room. Just as you were about to walk over to her, Nott grabbed your arm and jerked his head in the direction of the door. It was a silent invitation to walk with him somewhere, from what you could gather. You turned around to tell Cho where you were going, but she had already disappeared, much to your confusion.

The first few minutes of the walk were in silence, and the awkwardness was killing you. It was only once you had emerged from the dungeons that Nott finally said something.

"You aren't subtle."

A lightning bolt of shock and nerves shot up your spine and made you stiffen up as you walked. You managed to force out a mumble of, "I know."

He shrugged, "It's cute."

Had you heard him right? No, you couldn't have. You just weren't used to hearing his voice.

"I thought you were shy," you muttered, but he heard and chuckled a bit.

"No. Just quiet."

You clutched your books close to your chest.

"You're shy," he added.

You nodded.

He chuckled again, and silence ensued for another couple minutes.

"Hogsmeade," he said.

You hummed in surprise.

"This weekend. Me, you."

Your jaw dropped - did he mean a date? A Hogsmeade invitation had certain implications among Hogwarts students.

But he didn't clarify, not once on the way to the Ravenclaw tower.

***

"Relax, Y/N, you'll be great," Cho assured you, wrapping your scarf around your neck since the autumn breeze was nippy in Scotland.

"I don't even know if it's a date."

"Of course it's a date," she shook her head, "Everyone knows what inviting someone to Hogsmeade means."

You grimaced, "I don't know if Nott is the most up to date with social norms."

"Regardless, he's not a fucking idiot."

You gave your best friend a small smile.

"Now, he'll be waiting for you in the courtyard, so hurry!"

***

You had only ever seen Theodore Nott in casual clothing from afar before, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared amongst the other Slytherins. But, Rowena, you had been missing out on quite an indulgent sight.

How could a man make such a simple outfit of a knitted jumper and baggy jeans look so good? You didn't understand it, unable to feel anything but self-conscious in your own ensemble.

He didn't smile at you as you approached, but instead gave you a curt nod. And, as you both began walking towards the carriage, the silence was truly beginning to suffocate you. So, you reached inside the crevices of your brain to talk about something - anything - and finally landed on informing him of every little thing that had happened to you that week. It wasn't particularly interesting, mainly because you were omitting the details about him, but it meant that the quietness was filled with your babbling.

Which was how it went the entire journey to Hogsmeade.

At first you weren't sure he was listening, but when you paused mid sentence for a moment, he raised his eyebrow at you and gestured for you to go on. So you did.

"...and honestly, I don't know why Cho thought that was a good idea," you sighed as you both stepped out of the carriage, "She nearly set her hair on fire!"

You heard a small chuckle erupt from the boy next to you, making you look over to him in surprise.

"What about you? How's your week been?" you asked cautiously, nervous to see his reaction to a question that required a wordy response.

He shrugged.

It was frustrating.

You chewed your lip for a few seconds, "Look- I get you find communication difficult. But, please, I need more to work with here."

He gave you a surprised expression, and stopped walking, making you halt too. Nott looked around pensively, completely unreadable.

"Nott?"

He looked at you and scowled, "Theo," he corrected.

"Theo- what are you doing?"

Letting out a loud exhale, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to a more hidden area behind some of the houses. When you turned around, you realised that he was right in front of you - to the point that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

"I'm not good with words," he mumbled.

You hummed in agreement.

"I don't like talking to people," he continued, "But I want to talk to you."

Your breath hitched, "Really?"

"I'm not an idiot- I've known that you've fancied me for years."

You felt your ears heat up.

"But this year, when we started back, I-" he paused, trying to piece together the words in his mind, "I saw you, and it was different than before. I wanted your attention."

A smile crept on to your face as you gazed up at him.

"So, I know I need to work on being open - but I want to try. For you."

You don't know where the wave of confidence came from, but you found yourself pressing your lips against his and combing your fingers through his hair. He gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly reciprocated the affection until you pulled apart.

"Rowena... I always thought you knew. I can't believe I was right."

"Horrifying?"

"A little," you nodded, "But it's obviously worked out."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 03/06/2023 —> 15/08/2023 published;17/08/2023 edited; —/—/——

6K notes · View notes

thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months

Text

My Alpha

This is kind of a long one shot (5619 words!), but I thought I'd try my hand at the ABO!/Omegaverse. Hope you like it!

Being an omega wasn’t always a bad thing. At least that’s what she told herself repeatedly as she religiously took hormone blocking birth control pills and wore scent blockers on the daily. Y/N hadn’t had a heat in years and wasn’t planning on letting up any time soon. She had started working as a personal assistant for the Avengers under Tony Stark years before, going through the Sokovia Accords debacle, surviving the Blip, losing Natasha, Tony, Steve, T'Challa, and all the other strange and traumatic things that happened during her tenure. She had denied her biology to get this job, not wanting it to affect her performance or be a target while being surrounded by literal super Alphas in this field. And as hard as the job was, she loved it.

One of the greatest highlights was gaining Bucky Barnes as a friend. While other Alphas she had come across were domineering, he was compassionate and kind. He very rarely lost his composure like others did during high pressure situations in missions, and never fought over who was in charge. He was incredibly careful to make sure everyone around him felt comfortable in his presence. After finally shaking the Winter Soldier programming he didn’t want to ever lose control of himself again, and with the super soldier serum messing with his hormones to the extent that he was nearly feral during ruts, he would isolate himself away to keep her and others safe.

Y/N felt like she could talk to him about anything, and he felt the same. She was his sanctuary after rough missions, one of the few people that could break him out of a deep depressive state or the nightmares that still plagued him. He knew she was an Omega but could barely smell her because of her blockers, which he both loved and hated. Loved because it made it so they could be friends without the weird biological dynamics getting in the way, and hated because he was super curious about what her scent was. They had fallen for each other long ago, but were both too afraid to do anything about it.

As they both relaxed during a rare weekend off they got on the topic of Omega versus Alpha traits. “I get it, Alphas can be rough, but don’t you want to mate someday? Find someone special to settle down with? Maybe have a family?”

She sighed. “Of course I do, Buck.”

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked gently.

“Not having a clear choice,” she answered simply, giving him a sharp look. “I don’t want my biology to decide my fate. So many Omegas get stuck being mated with bad Alphas because their heats were uncontrollable and the Alpha wouldn’t take no for an answer. I know that I’m predestined to be a nurturer. Hell, that’s what my job is now, taking care of all of you guys! But I should get to choose who I end up with based on love, not by body’s reactions.” Bucky nodded in understanding, looking down at his intertwined hands. “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know how it would work out. This job…my past. It all points towards disaster at any given time.”

She slid over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders awkwardly as she sat next to him. “You deserve a happy ever after, Bucky.”

“You do, too, you know,” he reminded her, resting his head on top of hers.

“Mmh, maybe someday,” she said wistfully as she undid her embrace and leaned back against the couch.

“So, anyways,” he cleared his throat. “Is it true that Omegas have a better sense of smell than Alphas or Betas? Like you can pick up on others’ scents and identify them really well?”

She laughed. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Really? Okay, what does…” he scanned the room as other Avengers milled in and out. “Peter. What does Spidey smell like?” He tested her, watching her expectantly.

She took a look at Peter across the room, her nose slightly flaring as she took in a whiff from his direction. “He always smells like fresh bagels to me. You know the smell of just-baked bread? Kinda like that. Mixed with a little bit of hazelnut.”

Bucky looked at her in awe. “Yeah I kinda get that off of him. Alphas can smell and track scents but not to that level.”

“Hm, that’s interesting,” she said as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Now how about Sam?” he asked excitedly, hoping it would be something not so pleasant he could tease him about.

“Ha, Sam is Cajun seasoning with a sweet lemony undertone. Like really well done seafood,” she answered quickly with a smile on her face, knowing Bucky would be disappointed in that answer.

Bucky frowned as he thought about who to ask of next. “Okay, how about…Steve?” He knew it was a long shot. Steve had been gone for a few years now, so she probably wouldn’t remember. But she gave him a soft smile.

“Steve was smoky, like fireworks. A summer night that ends with warm apple crisp and melting vanilla ice cream on top,” she said as she stared out the window, a dazed look in her eyes as she remembered him.

“Wow…” Bucky whispered. “I always got the fireworks, and something like a picnic. But now that you say it, yeah, apple with vanilla.”

“Yep, he was truly all American,” she winked at him.

He laughed as he turned towards her on the couch. “How about, um…me?”

She gazed at him, her expression softening as her nose flared again and she huffed out the breath she’d taken. “Smoky, like Steve, but different.”

“Like gunpowder?” he asked suddenly, his eyes searching hers. He had been told that before and was hoping they were wrong.

“No, not gunpowder. More like…” she sniffed again but frowned. “Do you mind if I…?” she gestured her finger from herself to him.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, opening himself up for her to scoot closer to him. She leaned in towards his neck, the best place to scent someone, and breathed in a slow sniff of him. She closed her eyes.

“Campfire. A campfire on the beach. And the smell of the ocean after it rains,” she said resolutely, opening her eyes to look at him. Their faces were close as he stared at her. “But no, not gunpowder,” she reassured him.

“That’s good,” he breathed, his eyes shifting from her eyes down to her lips and back.

Her eyes suddenly widened, her brow furrowing and she pulled herself away quickly. “I, um…I need to go…excuse me,” she said hurriedly before she jumped off the couch and power-walked down the hall towards her room.

“Wait, Y/N, are you okay?” Bucky stood from the couch as he watched her leave.

“Yeah! I’ll talk to you later!” she yelled back without looking, her voice sounded strained.

“What the hell?” he asked himself quietly, looking around him like something had jumped out and spooked her.

Once she was out of sight she ran to her room and had Friday bolt the door. She doubled over in pain and clutched her stomach. “No way,” she moaned as she reached for her phone and called for help.

“Hey you, how are ya?” Bruce asked when he answered the call.

“Bruce,” her voice was pained as she held in another moan. “I need help, something’s wrong.”

“What? What’s going on?” he sounded worried, the rustling of papers and beeping from a screen by him going off.

“It feels…like a heat? But that’s not possible, right? We made sure of it,” she grunted as another cramp shot through her abdomen, and just as suddenly as it all started, it suddenly stopped, leaving her gasping. “Wait, now it stopped? What the hell is happening?”

“Come down to the lab, right now. We’ll get you tested.”

She didn’t need to be told twice as she hung up and crept out of her room towards the elevator. She was able to get in and down to the lab a few floors away without being caught by Bucky or anybody else. She ran into the lab in a panic. Bruce was already setting up the medical bay in the back with everything needed to do a check-up, some vials next to the other instruments.

“Hey, let’s take some blood and see what’s going on,” he called out to her when he heard the doors slide open. She jogged to the bed and hopped up on it, taking off her cardigan so he could access the veins in her arm better. After a quick routine check up he took a few vials of her blood then stepped out towards all the equipment he had for medical and scientific tests.

He worked silently as she sat there deep in thought. It can’t be, she tried to reassure herself. I’ve been so careful. Not missed a single pill ever. This can’t be happening. After about an hour Bruce came back with a screen in his hand, his eyebrows hung low over his eyes and a frown on his face.

“Y/N, it’s…it’s not working anymore,” he said softly, his eyes sad and confused as he looked at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes widening.

“The hormone blockers, the pills…your body isn’t responding to them anymore. Your hormones are syncing back to normal Omega levels. Your heats are going to come back.”

“No, no no no no no…NO Bruce! I can’t. Please, there’s gotta be another pill to try, a shot, an implant, something? Anything, please?” she began to cry.

“I’m sorry Y/N. We already got you the best blockers that are available out there. If your body is weaning off of them it means your biology is taking over, probably because you’re getting older and it’s fighting back to have a chance at mating. I’m so sorry,” he showed her the hormone levels on a chart on the screen, pointing out the differences and then setting it down. “There’s nothing I can do. Nothing you can do but prepare yourself for it to start again. And your first one is probably going to be brutal after avoiding them for so long. You’ll need help–”

“NO! No, I can’t do this. I can’t ask some random Alpha for help. This isn’t fair!” she cried harder, hiding her face in her hands. Bruce patted her on the back, trying to help ease her pain by giving off a calming scent. He was also an Omega and knew how much this meant to her.

“It will be alright, Y/N. You have friends here who will help you without making it awkward between you and them, or won’t immediately try mating with you during your heat. They’re good Alphas. They won’t hurt you or take advantage of you,” he promised.

She tried to calm the loud beating of her heart that was wringing in her ears, a panic attack trying to settle deep in her bones that she was fighting back. “How long do I have until it comes?” she sighed as she sniffled.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. With it being so long since you last had one it could be next week or it could be in a couple of months,” he answered gravely.

“Ugh, great,” she laughed as she wiped her tears away. “No choice, whatsoever. My body ultimately got to decide for me after all. Wonderful,” she spat as she jumped down off the bed. “Thank you, Bruce, for testing. I just…I need to go sleep this off, I don’t know,” she said, giving him a quick hug and then leaving the lab.

She took the elevator back up to her floor, her eyes stinging from the hot tears still slowly falling down. Her heat was coming back, and with a vengeance. She would need help. Who would she ask? Any of the unmated superhero Alphas would probably say yes, though she knew she only wanted one. But how could she ask this of him? And if he did help, how could she go on with their friendship as if nothing had happened between them afterwards?

The elevator opened and she trudged into the common room. The floor was already dark as twilight set in and everyone had split off to their rooms. She slipped into the kitchen since she missed dinner while down in the lab to grab something to eat, although she wasn’t particularly hungry. As she made herself a sandwich she turned to grab a knife then saw a figure in the corner at the dining table.

“Jesus! Fuck, Bucky you scared me,” she gasped, holding a hand over her heart.

“Sorry, honey,” he grunted as he sat watching her. “Why are you crying?”

She stiffened as she looked at him, trying to act nonchalant as she grabbed the knife and turned back to her sandwich. “I’m not, I’m just tired,” she waved him off, quickly cutting the sandwich and putting the ingredients and dishes away to escape.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N. What’s wrong?” he stood, walking towards her. She reached for the refrigerator door to get a drink, which he quickly shut and stared her down. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Come on Buck, I just need a drink,” she complained as she tried to open the door again, reaching for the handle. Bucky grabbed her wrist firmly and leaned in towards her.

“What’s wrong Y/N? You ran away earlier and now you smell…off,” he said, searching her eyes as his nose flared at the scent she was radiating. His frown deepened and his eyes looked worried. “Why are you afraid? Was it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Oh no, Bucky, it’s not you,” she said, her eyes widening. “It’s me, it’s just…” her eyes welled up with tears again, spilling onto her cheeks as she sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s me,” she sobbed, leaning forward til her forehead rested against his chest.

“Oh honey,” Bucky sighed. He put his hands under her armpits and lifted her onto the counter so she was eye level with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face in his shoulder, crying harder as he enveloped her, his hands rubbing up and down her back as he whispered reassuring words to her. They sat holding each other for a while, Bucky letting her cry it out and Y/N relishing the comfort. As her cries died down and her grip loosened around his neck he pulled back.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please? You’re breaking an old man’s heart,” he pleaded, hating to see her hurting so much.

Y/N chuckled at him calling himself an old man as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. Bucky held her face in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She let herself enjoy his touch before she sniffled and finally looked up at him.

“When I was talking to you earlier, I felt this weird pain,” she explained quietly. Bucky nodded, listening intently as he held her face still. “That’s why I ran out. I went to Bruce’s lab to test me because it felt like…like a heat,” she sniffled again, looking down at her lap. Bucky nodded again, his hands releasing her face and reaching for her hands to hold. “I haven’t had one in years.” This surprised him. He knew there were new ways of birth control for Omegas now, giving them a lot more options than to just mate and reproduce and take care of their Alphas and pups like the old days, which he thought was great. He just didn’t realize it could be for so long. “And now, apparently, the hormone blockers aren’t working anymore,” she gripped his fingers tightly. “My body is rejecting them, weaning off of them and reverting back to normal hormone levels. My heat is coming,” she sucked in another sharp breath. “I don’t know when, but he said it’s going to be brutal since I’ve been avoiding them for so long. He said I’ll need help and…and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice shook as she looked up at him again. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Bucky could feel her panic and gave off what he hoped was a calming scent. It seemed to help as her eyes fluttered shut and her shoulders visibly relaxed. The Alpha in him hummed in satisfaction as he swept his thumbs over her knuckles. “You don’t need to be scared, Y/N. It’s going to be okay,” he tried to placate her. “Listen, I know earlier you said you wanted a choice, and now your body’s not giving you one.” She nodded, a few more tears slipping out the sides of her eyes. “I…I can help you,” he said, gulping back the lump in his throat. Her eyes snapped up to him, a look of shock on her face. “I know that I’m offering something kinda crazy. But I promise you I won’t hurt you, I won’t make you court me if you don’t want to, and I won’t forcibly mate with you.” He looked her deep in her eyes to try to get her to understand. “But I’d be honored to help you.”

Y/N couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. She had wanted to ask him and now he was offering himself for her to get through this first heat. She licked her lips and contemplated it. “I just don’t want it to ruin our friendship,” she sniffed again, her eyes searching his face for hesitation.

“It won’t,” he said earnestly.

“...Okay,” she agreed.

Bucky smiled as he squeezed her fingers. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Bucky. You’re a good Alpha,” she thanked him, lifting his hands up and kissing his knuckles.

His eyes fluttered shut and he cleared his throat. “You should probably not call me that, at least not right now.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“It’s okay, honey, it’s fine,” he chuckled. “Whenever it hits you, just call me, and I’ll be there.”

She gave him a warm smile in appreciation. They were playing with fire, and they both knew it deep down, but were denying it heavily.

***

Y/N could feel her hormones changing her body and mind. Bruce had advised against wearing scent blockers as well to help her body fully adjust and hopefully not cause as much pain during her upcoming heat, and that was the first thing she noticed. The Alphas around her, who would normally just give her a friendly greeting or a smile, now watched her hungrily through narrow eyes, giving tight smiles as their noses flared as she passed by. It made her self-conscious enough to ask Bucky one day, “Do I smell bad?”

Bucky looked away from the book he was reading as she plopped next to him on the couch in the common room again, lifting her feet up to rest on his lap. She was touching him a lot more lately. “What do you mean?”

“Do I smell bad? Omegas can’t really smell themselves very well, and since I took off the scent blockers I’ve been…watched,” she looked around the room warily. Bucky’s eyes swept across the other Alphas in the room, noting how they were all giving off territorial scents as they tracked her. He sat up straight, facing each one until they caught his eye and gave off a warning rumble deep in his chest, his eyes flashing dangerously. They each quickly retreated, shamefully turning back towards their previous tasks. The air around Y/N seemed to lift and she felt like she could breathe again. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He sat back on the couch, grabbing his book with one hand and mindlessly rubbing her feet with the other. “No need to thank me, honey. And no, you don’t smell bad. You smell like chai.”

“Chai?” Y/N scoffed.

“Yeah, chai with…” he reached a hand out and grabbed her wrist, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Her eyes widened comically at his brashness in scenting her so publicly. “Pumpkin. Chai and pumpkin. Like Autumn,” he concluded, setting her wrist down and then rubbing her feet again. He said it so casually that she just stared at him dumbfounded.

It got worse as the weeks went on. Her emotions were haywire, one minute she was calm and cool and the next she was agitated and easily crying at anything. She was nesting anxiously, rearranging her room and her desk in her office, constantly carrying around a large fuzzy cardigan or blanket with her. Her joints were sore, especially in her hips. She found herself eating all the time. Bruce had her come down to the lab each week to check her levels, each time warning her it could happen any day now.

A month and a half later on a Friday night the team got together for a movie night. They decided on watching the first Avatar, a movie Bucky hadn’t yet seen. As it played Y/N kept fidgeting next to him, adjusting her sitting position, wringing her hands in her lap, taking deep breaths periodically. A scene began of two of the characters connecting in a tree garden and Sam yelled out, “Alien tree sex!” Everyone laughed but Y/N bolted out of the room. Bucky watched her run down to her room and shut her door.

He quietly got up and followed her. He could tell just by her scent changing these last few weeks and how it was getting stronger, the chai smell getting spicier, that her heat was fast approaching. She had been very touchy with him, following him around and staying close whenever they were in the same room. He had no claim to her, but it was evident to everyone to stay away from her, otherwise they’d get a growl from him. He was growing more excited by the day, trying to remind himself that he was just helping out a friend, not staking any claim or bond.

When he reached her door he pressed his ear against it, listening for her. He heard her heart rate picking up and her breathing became labored. He could also smell her, more potent, spicy, the scent of unmated Omega making his hormones sing and call out for her. A deep rumble emitted from his chest as he felt his cock hardening. He knocked on her door.

“Y/N,” he called out, just loud enough for her to hear. A soft moan came from the other side. His eyelids shut tight at the sound. It was time. “I’m coming in,” he warned before opening the door. He stepped inside and was hit with the scent full force, making his eyes and mouth water simultaneously. Y/N was laying in the nest she built on her bed in the fetal position, one hand on her stomach and the other in between her legs, not yet touching herself but keeping pressure against her core. “Honey…” he groaned as he locked the door behind himself and walked towards the bed.

“Alpha,” she breathed, her brow furrowed and eyes shut tight. A cramp wracked through her whole body and she yelped in pain. “It’s starting. It hurts…hurts so bad,” she cried as she could feel a small gush of slick pour from her pussy as her body recognized the Alpha in the room.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey, I’m here,” he cooed at her, reaching his hand out and running his fingers along her leg from her ankle to her thigh. “Let’s get you out of these, huh?” he said while lifting the hem of her shorts up slightly. She nodded and blindly started pulling at her clothes. Bucky helped her strip out of her layers then undressed himself, giving her naked body an appreciative glance. He lay behind her on the bed, cocooning her in his arms and leaning his head into the crook of her neck and scenting her. He could feel himself getting drunk off of her heat. She was sending him into an early rut as his hips rocked against her ass slowly. Y/N keened at that, her back arching and pushing her ass into his crotch further. He moaned at the sensation, his arms tightening around her. “Shh, Omega. I got you,” he said as his voice dropped further, the Alpha coming through more prominently now.

“Bucky…” she sighed, her hands gripping his arms around her. “Please…Alpha please,” she begged, her legs shaking as another cramp hit her.

Bucky moaned at the sound of his name said that way coming from her lips. He started to lick and suck and kiss at the scent gland on her throat, making her gasp loudly. His scent mixed with hers, and they quickly got lost in each other. His hands found her breasts and massaged them firmly, his fingers tweaking her nipples and making her hips buck back into him again. He twisted her body around to face him. She quickly molded herself back to him, hiking her leg up and over his hip, her hands scratching down his chest. He tried to remind himself one last time that this was just a friend helping a friend. Then she kissed him.

The kiss broke the dam of hesitancy he was holding to desperately. He quickly responded, his mouth opening and their tongues tangling as they tasted each other. Bucky climbed on top of her, his knees forcing hers apart. His fingers probed her lower lips, finding her clit and giving it all his attention. Y/N’s hips writhed as he riled her up. She watched his fingers dip into her, making her breath stutter. She was already dripping for him so he plunged two fingers into her, thrusting them in and out while his thumb rubbed and flicked her clit.

“Fuck Alpha,” she groaned. “Just like that, shit!”

Bucky smiled as she cursed, her legs shaking against his. She reached down and took his cock in her hand, giving him lazy pumps as he got her closer to her release. He huffed a sharp breath. “Damn, honey, oooh that’s good,” he said lowly. “Give it to me, love, come on, you can do it. Be such a good Omega for me,” he encouraged her as he curled his fingers as deep as he could reach.

The tension in her core finally snapped, her first orgasm ripping through her at lightning speed, squirting slick all over his hand and his hips. She let out a guttural moan, the sound reverberating through the air, making the Alpha inside of him scream to claim her. He had to physically restrain himself as he pulled his fingers out of her. She smiled as she watched him with hooded eyes. He put his wet fingers in his mouth and licked them clean of her slick, his eyes rolling back at the taste.

“Alpha please, I need you. Bucky, I want your big cock inside me…please!” Y/N begged again. Normally it would embarrass her to be acting like this, she would have never dreamed of speaking to Bucky this way. But they were beyond the point of no return.

“Condom first, Omega,” he reminded her in his authoritative voice. “As much as I’d love to fill you up, I don’t think that’s what you want just yet.”

Y/N pouted, but the first orgasm had helped clear her brain a little bit, and pointed to the nightstand next to the bed. Bucky quickly reached over and pulled open the top drawer, finding the box and pulling a few of them out. He unwrapped one and slipped it on himself before settling back between her legs, backing up a little bit. “Present, please, Omega.”

Y/N twisted herself onto her stomach, lifting her hips high and pressing the side of her face into the bed. Bucky almost whimpered at the sight of her sweet pussy, seeing the way he had made her drip with slick, the skin softly puckering in anticipation. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen Y/N, goddamn,” he whispered huskily. She preened at his praise, her ass raising a little higher. He gave her ass a quick slap, making her yelp and shiver. “You ready?” he asked, making sure she was still wanting this.

“Yes, please Alpha, Bucky…please!”

“You’re so sexy when you beg,” he slapped her ass again, then grabbed her hips and aimed himself at her entrance. He slowly pushed in the tip of his cock, the fat head catching just past her lower lips, making them both groan. He kept pushing until he was fully seated inside her, letting her adjust to his size. Y/N was keening again, a high pitched tone ringing through the air. After a moment she wriggled her hips, silently asking him to thrust. A deep growl emanated from Bucky’s throat and he pulled back until it was just the tip inside, then snapped his hips back into her hard.

Y/N was making the sweetest noises he’d ever heard as he pummeled his cock into her. She whimpered and moaned, making him hook an arm around her hips and lay his stomach across her back, quick huffs of his breath warming her shoulder. He could feel her walls fluttering around him, making the rhythm of his hips stutter. “Fuck, honey, you gonna cum?” She nodded as her moans got louder. He flipped her back over onto her back so he could watch her release, leaving barely any room between them as he hovered over her. Her hands wound around the back of his neck, scratching his scalp with her nails. “Goddammit, do that again,” he heard himself whimpering this time. She scratched from the top of his head down to his neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

He reached between their bodies and started flicking her clit as he chased his own high. “Bucky, oh my God,” she squealed against his lips as her back arched and her legs clung to his hips. “Yes, yes, yes, shit…mark me.”

Bucky didn’t stop thrusting but tensed at her words. “No, Y/N, you don’t want that.”

“Yes, I do, with you, Bucky,” she gasped.

“Omega,” he warned her, his eyes flashing. “We can talk about that when I’m not balls deep inside you.”

Y/N tensed at his Alpha command, her legs loosening around him. “I want you to be my Alpha, my mate.”

“God fucking dammit,” Bucky stopped thrusting and leaned on his elbows above her. “Y/N, listen to me, you don’t want that. You said you wanted a clear choice, remember?” Y/N was silent and wide eyed as she watched him, slightly nodding her head. “This isn’t a clear choice. Your first heat in how many years? It’s your hormones talking, honey. And believe me, I’d love to mark you, claim you, bond and mate with you. Stuff you full of me,” he thrust again, making her eyes roll back, “and breed you with my pups. But we can talk about all that later. Right now, I’m here to help you through this, because you’re my best friend, and…I’m ridiculously in love with you.” He finally said it. “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. But when it’s both of us with clear heads and a clear choice. Okay?”

Y/N’s eyes were watery as she listened to him. “You’re in love with me?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Is that all you got out of that?”

She shook her head, “No, but it’s the most important thing. I’m in love with you.”

He smiled wide and leaned down to give a quick kiss to her nose. “Can I continue now?”

She nodded again, and he gave her another thrust to get her going again. Her slick started to make squelching noises as he picked up the pace again, his knot starting to catch at her entrance, his hand reaching to her clit again and trailing kisses down her throat to her scent gland, licking and sucking at it again.

“One day, if you’ll have me, I’ll bite this pretty neck,” he moaned in her ear as her fingers dug into his back. “Make you mine.”

“Yours, all yours, Bucky…Alpha,” Y/N groaned, leaning her head up and scenting him back. Her soft lips and her tongue against his gland had his eyes rolling in his head again and his fingers gripping her hips harshly. “That’s right. Mine. Mine…mine,” he thrusted harder and faster, angling her hips up to hit deeper.

Y/N screamed his name as she finally came, her hands digging into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, scratching his scent gland and making him see stars as he came with a yell, his knot fully inflating and latching him to her as she nearly squeezed the dear life out of him. He fell on top of her, and she held him as he calmed down, both of them panting and sweaty.

A heady scent filled the air, a smell that screamed satisfied mates. Bucky pulled himself to his side, holding her close so it wouldn’t hurt her to move with him, and covered them with the blankets from her nest. Y/N was delirious after this first round of her heat, her head lolling with exhaustion. “Rest, Omega. We’ve still got a few days, and forever after that.”

She smiled sleepily, “Hmmm, my Alpha.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #smut #marvel #abo #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky barnes #omega!reader #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #bucky barnes oneshot

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enkvyu · 1 year

Text

7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #gojo satoru x you

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sturniqlo · 21 days

Text

Drunken Mistake- C.S

summary: frat boy!chris and nerd!y/n have been dating for over a year and thier relationship has had many bumps and he does something unforgivable.

cw: cursing, toxic relationship, ANGST; mentions of bullying, crying, arguing, cheating, break up, rejection

an: wonderful idea by the one and only @monroesturnns | ps. i do not condone cheating! remember this is pure fiction!!

masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"god, i wish that you had thought this through, before i went and fell in love with you."- traitor, o.r

"Come on, baby." Chris kissed down Y/n's neck as she was writing down some notes. "Just this one party, you haven't been to one of my frat parties in over two months." He continued his trail up to her jaw and eventually landed on her lips. "Chris, you know I don't like parties. I need to finish my notes for my exam. I'll go to the next one, okay?"

"That's what you said two weeks ago! It's the next time! Let's- just stop studying for once and go to this fucking party!" He raises his voice and Y/n sensed an argument boiling. "Watch your tone! You know how important school is to me, my parents sent me here to study! Not to get sucked into the partying lifestyle, that's not me!"

"Yeah, yeah, your parents this tuition that, you're like some fucking nerd! Let loose for once. Fuck!" He gets off of her. "Fuck you! Partying shouldn't be your top priority, Chris. Just stay in for once, miss one little party and study! I haven't seen you open your book in two weeks. Am I going to have to make space in my schedule and tutor you again?"

Before Y/n and Chris got together. They weren't very fond of each other. But, Chris was too busy partying and he was failing his classes. He was on the verge of being kicked out of his fraternity. Somehow Chris got kicked out of living in the frat house- but he was still apart of it- so he moved in with his two brothers. Chris wasn't doing anything about his failing grades so his brothers took care of it.

Their childhood friend, Y/n, was a very smart girl. Nick mentioned it to her when they hung out and she was hesitant at first. But when she realized Nick was concerned for Chris' grades, she agreed. The relationship between Chris and Y/n was rocky at first. It hadn't always been like that. Before high school, they were stuck to the hip but once junior year came along, Y/n started getting bullied by one of the popular girls and guess who ended up dating her? Chris.

Chris had known about this but still chose to date his friends bully. Y/n slowly started distancing herself from Chris. Fast forward four years, she was tutoring him and a couple of months later they eventually started dating.

"God! Are you ever going to let that go? You always bring it up in every fucking argument. Just come to this party!" She shakes her head. "No, whenever I go you always end up with your friends in the corner leaving me alone in a room full of people I don't know! No, is my final answer." Chris grew even more aggravated. "Fine, I'll go alone." He walks towards the bedroom door and opens it. "Just know, you aren't the only girl in my life."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She said, her anxiety rising. "Exactly as it sounds like." With that, he slammed the door behind him and left. Y/n stayed there, sitting on his bed while he went to the stupid party.

"Where you going?" Matt asks as he sees Chris head for the front door. "A party." He says. "You're going to a party while Y/n is over?" He said. Matt has seen Chris do this a couple of times but he's never asked about it. "Yeah, so what? If she doesn't want to go why should I have to miss it?"

"It's a bit rude. You know? She's here, in your room while you're at a party." Chris scoffs at Matt's words. "Look, I don't need a lecture from you too. Let me live my life, if she doesn't want to go it's up to her that she wants to stay and read her fuckass books." He repeats what he did just a couple of minutes ago. He opens the door and slams it behind him.

Matt goes down the small set of stairs and knocks of Chris' door where Y/n is on the other side of. "Come in." He hears her say. "Hey, it's me. You okay down here?" Her eyes are glossed over and her face has tear marks. "I'm okay. I- you know how Chris is with his parties." She chuckles sadly. "I just wish he would put his school work first sometimes. I mean, he's paying all of this money to just party."

"Why don't you try to talk to him about it?" He says. "I have! All he say is that I should put my work aside and stop being a nerd." Matt shakes his head. Chris has always teased her about focusing on her work.

"Can I ask you something?" She says. "Go ahead." He says nodding. "Has Chris ever- I don't know- has he ever mentioned someone else?" He furrows his eyebrows. "Like, another girl?" She nods. "No, no, if he did you know I would tell you. Why do you ask? You think he's seeing someone else, or?"

"No?" She questions. "He just said something before he left and it had me thinking."

"I'm sure he just said it out of anger. I doubt he'd ever do that to you."

Later that night, around two in the morning, Chris came in stumbling. "Bro, you're drunk as shit." Matt scolded him, helping him down the stairs. "No I'm not." He giggled. "How'd you even get home? You better have not driven." Chris shakes his head. "I walked it. I saw sixty three- no! Sixty eight trees."

Chris opens the door and sees Y/n sleeping. "Okay, you can let me go now." Chris pulls away from Matt and pushes him out the room. "Okay, goodn-" He slams the door, causing Y/n to wake up. "Chris? What are you doing." She whispers. "Look at you, not studying for once. Not being a nerd right now?" He laughs. Y/n rolls her eyes. "I don't have time for this right now." She sighed and gets out of the bed and grabs her phone.

"Babe, I'm only kidding." He grabs her arm as she reaches for the doorknob. "Chris, stop. We'll talk in the morning."

Y/n stirs awake from the constant vibration of her phone. Stretching from her spot on the couch where she slept last night after Chris came back. She grabbed her phone and saw that she had many texts from her friends, even from people she hasn't really spoke to.

Still half asleep, she clicks on a message from a girl in her tuesday class. Furrowing her eyebrows at the message she replies back.

y/n

what's going on?

hailey

*video attachment*

The video started out as a girl posing for pictures. "Yes! Now pose like- oh my god?" The girl recording pointed to two people. "What is it?" She girl posing said and stopped posing. "Isn't that Chris Sturniolo over there?" The girl recording put the phone down but another girl spoke. "No, don't stop recording! Get this, he has a fucking girlfriend. And that isn't her." The camera pans up and Chris comes into view, but he's kissing a girl. Y/n gasps and her heart drops. This was from last night.

"What the hell!" Y/n's voice shakes and she sits up in shock. She continues watching the video. The camera girl zooms in on them. "What a fucking loser, like actually." The two of them continue kissing and Y/n has had enough and shuts her phone off.

Her tears start streaming down her face. How could he? Yeah they were a bit toxic but she never thought Chris would cheat on her. She gets up from her spot in her couch and runs down to Chris' room. Barging in she immediately starts yelling. "Chris, wake the fuck up!" Chris jumps up from his bed. "Is someone dying? What the fuck. My head is pounding." His eyes adjust to the bright lights.

"How could you Chris? Really? How fucking could you?" She cried. "What happened, babe?" He gets up and goes to hug her. "No! Don't fucking touch me! You cheated on me! You- you fucking asshole!" Chris' face went pale. "I- uh- what?!" He stutters over his words. "You don't have shit on me." He shakes his head.

"Don't act stupid! I saw a video of you making out with a girl last night! I don't understand, did you do it out of anger because I didn't go to a fucking party? Or have you been doing this our whole relationship. I- I should've listened to my friends, I can't believe I loved you." Her tears haven't stopped falling down. "Y/n, hear me out." He says hesitantly. "No! How could you explain that. You betrayed me, Chris!"

"I- we're done, Chris. I don't ever want to hear from you again. I've given you so many chances, Chris. So many- but this, I can't forgive you for it." She pauses before she continues on. "Maybe she'll go to all of your frat parties and not stay home like the nerd that I am. I really can't believe you've went this far. Goodbye Chris." She wipes her tears with her sleeve and turns around to leave the room.

"Y/n.." He starts off, but nothing else's comes out.

"Hey, hey, hey, what happened?" Matt gets up from the table when he sees Y/n come up the stairs crying. He had heard them arguing but it was muffled so he decided to go out in case things escalated. He knew they had been a bit tense since last night. "I- ask Chris. I can't- I can't be here right now, I'm sorry." Her voice cracks and she grabs her bag. "I'll see you around." She says before leaving their home.

For the next couple of days, Chris spent them in his room. Napping, watching his and Y/n's favorite show and youtube videos. He sent her many messages and called her many times. They were all ignored. Chris didn't blame her, he fucked up. He didn't know why he did what he did. He was drunk and angry.

Nick and Matt were furious at him. For one, Chris cheated on her. And two, they probably lost one of their childhood friends who was always there for them. Nick and Matt would text her but she would either send and bland response or not answer at all. They just wanted their friend back.

"Where're you going?" Nick says coldly when he sees his brother come up the stairs. "To Y/n's apartment." Nick furrows his eyebrows. "You talked to her?" He shakes his head. "Then why the hell are you going over there? Is her ignoring your calls and messages not ringing a bell? She doesn't want to talk to you. What makes you think she'd want to see you?"

"I just- I want to apologize and try to get her back. I miss her." He rubs his face with his hands. "Not to sound like a dick or anything, but she's not going to take you back. You fucking cheated on her! And dare I say it, with your ex fucking girlfriend who bullied her, Chris. You're delusional if you think you're getting her back. And thanks to you, she barely even talks to me or Matt. Do you not realize that not only did you ruin your relationship with her, you ruined mine and Matt's relationship with her. But go ahead and try to talk to her." Nicks hand comes down on the table as he gets up from his seat and walks towards his set of stairs.

"I still can't believe you would hurt her like that."

Chris sighed and slumped on a chair. A couple of minutes later, he got up and walked out of the house.

He walked up the stairs of her apartment building hallway and made his way to her door. Luckily he had remembered the code to get in the building. His first comes up and knocks. After a couple of seconds he hears her unlocking the door. "Iris you're here earl- what are you doing here?" Her face drops when she sees that her friend isn't at the door. "Y/n I want to apologize. I want you back, please." He begs.

"No, Chris. I can't put myself through that again. Do you know how much that hurt me? All because I didn't want to go to a party, Chris. A fucking party! I can't be with someone who cheats when I don't want to do something." She spoke loudly. "Y/n, baby, I promise I won't hurt you ever again. I promise." He begged her. "Please." His voice quivered.

She hated seeing him like this. But, for once, she decided to put herself first. "No, Chris. I- I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you anymore." His eyes welled up with tears. "Y/n." He spoke in desperation. "Y/n, please," She shook her head. "Go, Chris." She whispered.

"Don't make this harder than it should be."

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dorkszn · 3 months

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7 MINUTES IN HELL + satoru gojo

SYNP — getting stuck with your ex-boyfriend during a dumb game of seven minutes in hell heaven

WARNINGS — amab reader, dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!gojo, brat gojo, porn w plot, forced proximity, pet names, dunk sex, drinking, smoking (weed), closet sex, fingering, orgasm denial, anal sex, college au, implied commitment issues, implied toxic relationship, gojo’s kinda an asshole, degradation, creampie, minor feminization | 3.8K words

A/N — my first time writing top reader i think 🥹🥹 I’m actually so proud of this

Everyone knows when and why the two of you broke up. If you can even call it a breakup. It was more of a tear-filled yelling session between a pair of friends with benefits. That’s how he described it. One where Satoru ended up walking out your front door and you dropped onto your couch with angry tears in your eyes.

Nobody questioned you guys afterward though. Suguru kept quiet, listening to Satoru whenever he ranted. Shoko sat beside you, sharing a cigarette and takeout with you. Haibara kept his usual self, forcing everyone into group activities. And Nanami who kept to himself, per usual.

The house was full to the brim of loud, drunk college students. Music blaring and the stench of alcohol intoxicated every inch of the air. Your typical party. Some people play beer pong in the basement of the home you knew all too well, some make out in the corners and crevices, and some dance with their friends in the middle of the living room you’d hung out in many times.

Haibara wasn’t particularly known for his parties but he had thrown a few good ones in the past few months. Some you had attended and some you decided to miss out on. You couldn’t miss this one though. No matter how badly you wished you could. Shoko dragged you here because she couldn’t say no to Haibara’s invitation. Which for some reason meant that you couldn’t say no either.

Currently, you stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as a girl you recognize as a lower classman speaks to you. “But yeah, Mr. Yaga is just—“ her words are interrupted by a small hiccup. “Such an asshole, you know? And I don’t even have his class!” She’s been stumbling and stammering the whole conversation but for some reason, she’s one of the only bearable people here.

“Ain’t that the truth,” You blandly chuckle, sipping at your drink and emptying your red solo cup. “Be right back.” You tell her through the boisterous tune playing through the house. You slide past a few people to make your way to the fridge.

You open it and let the cool air abduct you. A nice break from the stuffiness of the crowd. An arrangement of alcohol sits in front of you. Your gaze runs through it, trying to pick whatever stands out. A singular white claw catches your attention. You reach for it only to be interrupted by another’s hand grabbing it.

“What the he—“ you whip around to face the thief. Of course, it’s this bastard. White hair and black, circular sunglasses greet you along with a stupid signature grin.

“Oops, did you want this?” Satoru hums. He cracks the can open and takes a dragged-out sip of it. You roll your eyes at his typical antics, shutting the fridge.

“Fuck off, Gojo.” You scoff.

“Ow, last name basis, baby?” He hums, drinking from the can once more. You feel your blood beginning to boil in your veins. You push past him, knocking him back ever so slightly with the force.

“Don’t call me that.” You grumble. You make your way to the basement where you know Haibara would have more alcohol. Gojo chuckles and trails behind you.

“We’re playing some games upstairs if you wanna join.” He offers. You glance back at him with narrow eyes.

“With you? No thanks.” You hum, jogging down the stairs. A cup pong game runs in the large basement, a crowd building around it. The well-known jocks stand in the middle, being hyped up by their teammate.

You hold a prolonged stare at one of the jocks. He’d always caught your eye. “Really? Jocks don’t give a good fuck. I know they seem like it but they don’t.” Gojo suddenly speaks up again.

“Do you ever stop and think that some people want more than a fuck-buddy?” You hiss, turning to look back at the man. He gives you a softer look. Your past flashed through his mind. He sits in silence. You sigh and continue to the box of beer in the corner of the room. You grab a can and crack it open.

“Go find something to do, Gojo.” You mumble, leaving him in the basement.

An hour or two and a few more drinks in, you find yourself watching a UNO game running at Haibara’s dining table. Utahime sits in front of you, holding three cards in her hand. She might be the only other person that Gojo irritates more than you. A focused aura surrounds her, keeping you just a foot away from her.

“You got money on this game?” You ask her, glancing over her cards through slightly hazy eyes.

“Of course she does. As do I,” Another voice speaks up. Mei Mei sits just one seat away from Utahime, she holds just two cards in her hand. You can’t help but chuckle. Of course. Utahime is too competitive for her good and Mei Mei is one of the freakiest gold diggers ever.

Suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder. You turn at the weight and see Shoko. She holds up a plastic ziploc bag, with a small bundle of green inside of it. “Holy shit, Sho.” You slightly gasp with a grin.

The woman smirks back at you. “Found out my guy was here. Plus it was free, beat him in Smash Brothers for it.” She explains. If there was anyone to count on to find something to smoke, it was Shoko.

“Wanna go up? I hear Yu’s room is open.” She questions, gesturing to the stairs. You nod and give Utahime an encouraged pat on the shoulder. You and Shoko find your way through the crowd, squeezing past people kissing, and dancing. You finally make it to the stairs where two students sit at the bottom, one sitting in the other lap. Everyone’s gonna feel like shit on Monday.

You somehow make it up the stairs and follow Shoko’s guide. You find your friend’s room but Shoko stops you before you can open the door. “Don’t freak out, okay? I know that’s unlike you but still.” She murmurs.

You shoot her a confused look before shrugging. “Okay?”

Shoko nods and grabs the knob, opening the door. Haibara’s bedroom looks how it usually does. Suguru and Gojo sit on the bed, sharing a bag of chips between the two of them. Haibara is on the floor beside Nanami, running a game of shogi. You look over at Shoko and she furrows her brows. You sigh.

“Hey, I found y/n.” She hums to the group before closing the door behind the two of you. You awkwardly wave to your group of friends and join Shoko on the floor against the wall.

“Y/n, will you tell Kento that this can't move diagonally?" Yu huffs, showing you one of the game pieces.

“You know I don’t know how to play shogi.” You reply. Yu facepalms before nodding and turning back to the blonde. You watch as Shoko quickly works to roll the weed into the paper. You think she could do this in her sleep if she tried.

When done, she passes you the blunt and reaches for her lighter. “Shit.” You hear her mumble.

“Suguru, got a lighter?” You ask, focusing your gaze on him and only him. You see Gojo watching you out of the corner of your eye but ignore him. Suguru digs through the pockets of his baggy sweatpants, finding his old-fashioned flick lighter. He tosses it to you and you catch it in your right hand.

Shoko cups her hand around the flame as you hold it to the paper. It lights and you shut the lighter. Gojo’s staring at you, you can feel it. You place it between your lips and tuck the lighter in your pocket. You look back at him as you take a drag of the drug. You pass it to Shoko and gently blow out the smoke.

Gojo’s face flushes a soft pink before he turns his attention back to Suguru.

“Oh my god!” Haibara suddenly outbursts. You all turn to look at him. “Ok! Ok! Let’s play something else.” He seethes, frustration written on his face.

“Jeez, grab a beer, dude,” Shoko says, blowing smoke out from her lips.

“What d’you wanna play?” Gojo hums, clearly amused by the idea. Haibara ponders for a moment before his eyes settle on a hat on top of his dresser.

“I have an idea,” he smirks. He stands and grabs the hat then a piece of paper and a marker.

“I don’t like this.” Nanami groans, dragging a hand down his face. While Yu begins ripping up the photo, the door bursts open. An angry Utahime and a grinning Mei Mei enter.

“How’d the game go?” You hum, turning to the two girls. Utahime simply glares at you and you smile back.

“I ran her pockets of course,” Mei answers with a smug grin. Before Utahime can remark, Yu calls out.

“Ok! Everyone write their name on a piece of paper and put it in the hat,” Haibara tells you all, handing everyone a small piece of paper and Suguru a pen.

“We’re not children, Yu-Bara,” Shoko scoffs.

“Exactly. That’s why we’re playing big games,” he says excitedly. “Spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.” Everyone groans or sighs at his antics, except for Gojo. He laughs.

Reluctantly, you all scribble your names down and drop the folded papers within the hat. You all form a circle in the middle of Haibara’s room floor. Shoko on your right, Kento to your left, and the white-haired bastard across from you.

An empty beer bottle is placed in the middle of the circle. “Let’s keep this fun, guys. No fighting or arguing, alright?” Yu hums. You all nod and he grabs the bottle. It spins rapidly between you all. Everyone’s eyes trained on it. The bottle comes to a slow before stopping, the mouth of the bottle pointing at you.

A cloud of smoke leaves you with a sigh. “Of course.” You mutter. Yu then replaces the bottle with the hat of names. You look at the antsy expressions on your friends' faces before closing your eyes. Your fingers shuffle through the papers then grab one.

A combined “ouuuu” from Haibara, Gojo, and Mei Mei fills the room as you open your eyes. You roll your eyes at their childishness. Slowly, you open the small piece of paper.

‘Satoru ;)’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. Your facial expression must’ve given away your thoughts because everyone stares at you oddly. Shoko leans over and reads the sheet. “Oh shit.” She gasps slightly.

You look up to meet blue eyes then flip the paper around for everyone to see. Numerous reactions leave the group. But you focus on the grin that covers Gojo’s face. “Well, isn’t it your lucky day?” He quips. He stands and holds his hand out to you. You take one last drag of the blunt before standing and ignoring his assistance.

“Sure is,” you mumble, smoke flowing through your words. Yu trails behind the two of you to the closet. You walk in first, Gojo following.

“Be nice guys! Have fun!” He waves with a taunting grin before shutting the door. You hear him push a chair up in front of it, preventing your escape. “Your seven minutes start now!” He yells, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

You hesitate through the darkness, trying to space yourself away from Gojo. “Just stay on your side for the next 7 minutes and we’ll be fine.” You sigh. Gojo pulls out his phone and turns on the flash, shining the bright light at you.

You wince at the light and put a hand up to shield your eyes. “You see the space we got? There aren’t any sides, sweetheart.” He scoffs, showing you the minimal space of the closet. He stands just about a foot and a half away from you. The proximity almost made your skin crawl.

“Why are you such an asshole?” You question, dragging a hand over your face.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Most people disagree with you, y’know?” Satoru hums, flashing you a grin.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss again. “Plus, most of those people don’t know you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it the first time,” he snickers and you glare at him. “Besides, are you implying that you know me?”

“No, I thought I did but clearly not.” You grumble, folding your arms over your chest. Satoru ever-so-slightly frowns at this.

“C’mon man, it was just a misunderstanding,” Satoru sighs, pushing his snowy hair out of his face. A misunderstanding was a severe understatement. You couldn’t tell if it was the closet or the alcohol in your system but anger began to fuel your body. “And it’s not my fault you were naive.” He adds.

Before you can think about it, you’re grabbing his shirt and shoving him against the closet wall. His phone falls to the floor with a soft thud, the light illuminating the closet from the ground. Satoru swallows and looks at you with wide eyes. His hand grips your wrist.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get you all worked up,” he apologizes with a smirk, gently tapping at your wrist. This bastard.

“I can’t fucking stand you, Satoru.” You seethe, bringing your face close to his. You didn’t want the others to hear and think something was going on.

“You say that and you still haven’t found anyone better than me,” The male replies, putting the two of you just inches apart. A sudden warmth surrounds you, your heart pounding in your ears. “You know you love how I make you feel.” He whispers.

He wasn’t wrong there. Every fuck after him just felt dull and you were left feeling bad for whoever you were with. And nobody pushes your buttons quite like Satoru does. Nobody makes you feel like he does. And you hate it.

“Fuck you,” you finally stammer out with a shaky breath. He lets out a low chuckle.

“You miss that, don’t you?” Satoru murmurs, his grin just inches away from your lips. You’d like to blame the alcohol for your next actions. But both of you know, your mind and body were craving the man in front of you. He was addicting.

You finally took him into a rough kiss, pulling a small sound from him. His lips feel so natural against yours. They feel no different than a few months ago. The two of you move so knowingly with each other, lips in sync. Satoru’s hands grip your shirt, slightly pulling at the fabric. One of your hands finds his waist while the other makes its way to his hair.

You tug on the snowy tufts, pulling a wince from the man’s throat. You slip your tongue past his lips, taking in every inch of him for the first time in a while. Your mind has every part of him engraved in it but your body longs to re-explore him once more. The taste of alcohol lingers on his tongue, matching yours.

You want to breathe him in more. Use him as your oxygen source instead of the small air supply of the closet. However, you pull on his hair once more and pull away from him. A string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your chest heaves up and down, pressing against his. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart.

“Missed you too, baby—“

“Shut up.” You say, voice stern. You pull at his belt with one hand, the other wrapping around his throat. Satoru lets out a weak groan as you undo his belt buckle. You move to his pants until they’re both loose around his waist. The waistband of his boxers reveals itself, as well as the slight bulge in the cotton.

You don’t loosen your grip on his neck when you lift two fingers to his lips. “Get 'em’ wet.” You mumble to him. Your fingers slip past his shining, pink lips and into his mouth. His tongue pressed against your fingerpads before swirling around your digits.

Satoru’s eyes stare straight into yours over the edge of his sunglasses. You feel your dick slightly twitch in your pants, making you swallow harshly. “So you do listen,” you hum. You pull your fingers out with a small ‘pop’ from him.

“When I want to—“ his words are interrupted again when you turn him around, his back facing you. You make quick work of pulling down his pants and boxers. Satoru’s back naturally arches when the cold air hits his skin.

You snicker in response with a small hiccup. “You’re such a slut, Toru,” you tell him as you reveal his hole to you.

“Shut the hell up.” He replies, his words breaking down into a moan when you spit on his entrance and push two fingertips past the ring of muscle. You push your fingers further, prodding at his walls.

“Shit, has anyone stretched you out since me? You feel exactly how I left you.” You grin cockily. Satoru grumbles curses in response and rolls his eyes. You scissor and part your fingers inside of him, stealing lewd noises from the man.

“Yeah… tons, guys way better than you.” Satoru pants, a faltering smile on his face as he glances back at you. You lean forward and bite down on the sensitive spot of his neck. His cry is like music to your ears, making you smirk against his skin. Your tongue laps over the reddening spot as your hand moves to his mouth, covering it with your palm.

“Quiet down, will you? Everyone already knows you’re a whore,” you hiss. You feel Satoru tighten around you, making you groan and his eyes roll. He’s close. “Gonna cum already?” You hum, quickening the pace of your fingers. Your digits curling inside of him.

“Ngh— fuck off,” Satoru mumbles, slightly moving his hips to fuck himself on your fingers. But you pull away, watching his entrance clench around nothing. A small gasp escapes the man. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He examines, turning his head to look back at you with a deep glare.

You scoff before reaching for your belt. “Nothing nearly as bad as whatever is wrong with you.” You reply, undoing your belt buckle and your pants zipper. You pull down your boxers that are slightly stained with your precum. Satoru swallows as he looks down at your growing erection, mouth practically salivating at the sight. A hungry lustful look in his bright blue eyes.

You tease Satoru’s entrance with your tip, just barely pushing into him and pressing kisses to the ring of muscle. Satoru lets out an annoyed whine, his hips squirming and pushing back against you. You groan when he desperately grinds against your length. “C’mon, just put it in.” He pleads.

“Such a needy boy,” you murmur. You push into him and his eyes roll back in his head as your cock fills him. Your breath shakes as it passes your lips, his walls tighten around your length. So warm and holding you just right. “Fuck Toru, you’re so tight.” You hiss in his ear, pressing a kiss against the skin.

“Just fuck me already.” He scoffs weakly, his chest slightly heaving against the closet walls. You wrap a hand around his throat and grip his hip with the other, your fingertips surely bruising where they sit. You pull out of him agonizingly slowly, taking inch by inch away from Satoru.

You then slam back into him to the hilt, a choked whimper leaving him. “Not such an arrogant bastard anymore.” You murmur before picking up your pace again. His muffled sounds don’t go unheard as you focus on the way your cock disappears into the plump flesh of his ass.

A harsh clap echoed throughout the closet with every collision of your hips. “agh— sweetheart, s’too good.” Satoru pants, hands clawing at whatever fabric was closest to him.

“Yeah? Who fucks you the best?” You hum, relentlessly as you buck your hips forward. Your leaking tip punctuating every time you hit that certain spot inside him. A spot you’d never forget.

“Shit, you do. You fuck me the best.” The snow-haired male whimpers. You shift your hand around his throat, pulling him right against you. A pornographic moan erupts from his throat. A noise everyone outside the closet definitely heard. Two of your fingers find their place in Satoru’s mouth again, pressing down on his tongue.

“Shh. Don’t want everyone to hear how much you love my dick, right?” You coo, running your tongue along the exposure of his neck. A muffled “mhm-mhm” leaves Satoru as his tongue focuses on your fingers occupying his mouth.

However, this can’t distract from the feeling of slamming into him. Spreading him apart and filling every centimeter of his insides, reaching sensitive spots he never knew even existed. The feeling of Satoru’s hand pushing against your abdomen doesn’t even register in your mind for seconds as you get lost in his cunt.

You take hold of his wrist and move it off of your flushed skin. “Take it, Toru. You know you can.”

“Can’t, m’fucking— gonna cum.” He babbles.

“Yeah? Go ahead, cum around my cock. Make a mess for me.” You tell him through a smug grin. Your hand drags down from his mouth to his dick, wrapping around it and pumping him to the rhythm of your thrust.

“Fuck, baby, missed you so so much.” Satoru groans before ropes of cum spurt from his tip. His eyes squeeze shut so tight and his body trembles against you. His seed coating your hand and fingers.

“So fucking sloppy.” You mewl, feeling your balls clench as you stuff yourself into Satoru to the hilt. You bite down on his neck as you release in him, stuffing him to the brim with your cum.

A weak whine pulls from Satoru when you finally pull your teeth out of his neck and lap your tongue over the spot.

The two of you sit in your mess, the smell of sex and sweat intoxicating the small space. You can feel Satoru’s heart racing in his chest. You just sit for a moment until you go limp within him before pulling out. Satoru leans against the closet wall, lips glossy with spit and eyes hazed over with lust.

Suddenly, he gives you a weak grin. And you can’t help but drunkenly smile back. Idiot. You glance down and see your cum beginning to dribble out of him. Satoru grunts when you push a finger into him, assuring your seeds place inside of him.

“Missed you too, baby.”

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vilnmelling · 4 months

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WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SUMMONING

Everyone talks about the Lords in Black's costumes in the Summoning, and the fact that the dance moves rotate in a pentagram, but you know what CRIMINALLY few people talk about?

The dance moves themselves, and how each of the Lords execute them differently.

Pokey's moves are very grand and theatrical, and there's a certain enjoyment in a lot of them. The way he does some of them makes it look like he thinks HE'S the one in the middle; he's the one the show is all about. Pokey's not just dancing for the summoning. Pokey's putting on a show, his own musical performance (sounds familiar?)

Blinky's the stiffest and most static with his moves. His legs are straight the entire time, and unlike the others, he doesn't move his head that much for some moves. Between the spouts of singing and dancing, he moves the least. Perhaps because Blinky's not often the one getting personally involved. He's not the one your attention is pulled to when he's doing his evil shit. No, you're the star, he's just watching. Therefore, he's not extravagant or fluent in his dancing. He's static, so he can still watch. (I also must point out how he frames his eye during his first move)

Tinky's fucking erratic. His moves are BIG, and they're uncontrolled. He looks like he's barely in control of his own limbs (during the "Whatever we want" part, his arms look like they're about to pop out of their sockets), and during many moves, he wiggles his head in a way that makes him look like one of those bobble-headed dolls. On top of that, he's very bouncy on a lot of the choreo. Tinky's pure insanity in the way he moves.

Nibbly's by far the smoothest and most fluent. Very few of his moves are sharp, all of them kind of blending into each other. They give the feeling that if motions of the human body would make sound, Nibbly's dancing would almost be quiet. You can see this the very best in the way he does the choreo for the "La la la la la, la" — especially in the proshot! Overall, there's an eerie sense to the fluidity of his movements, almost like he's a predator sneaking up on a prey.

Wiggly's sharp and precise as hell, but not in the same way as Blinky. While Blinky's a static and still kind of sharp, Wiggly's an eye-pulling and threatening kind of sharp. How sharply and precisely he's dancing here, that's how sharply and precisely he could snap your neck if he wanted to. Simply by looking at his dancing, you can tell that he's the leader, and that oh yeah, you're being threatened right now. (Another detail to note: in the move where they lean back and forth, putting their hands down and up, Wiggly's the only one who points his fingers downwards instead of upwards, once again mimicking his tentacles (another nother thing to note: his hands never leave the tentacle imitation, AKA Jon's index and middle finger are always stuck together)).

This has been a dancer's take on the Lords in Black's dancing during The Summoning, thanks for tuning in

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justwonder113 · 9 days

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Sharing a bed with Lee Know

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: Feeling beyond frustrated with your boyfriend you leave your phone home and head out to drink your sorrows away, meanwhile he's stuck there losing his mind trying to find you. Warning: CURSING It's me who's surprised there. Angst to fluff. Barely mentioning the sharing bed part but yeah... Reader is gender neutral. Mention of alcohol intake. reader is tipsy but fully conscious. I don't know if I missed anything so please let me know if I did. NOT PROOFREAD

A/N- Glad to announce that I'm alive and well and back with a new laptop so I won't have to break my fingers trying to type on my phone anymore!!! I'll try to update more and more now^^ As for my work, this is the first time I have written something like this and I really hope you'll like it. I tried my best to make it seem as real as possible and I'm really eager to know what you think, so if you have any feedback please tell me what you think. Again thank you for all the love and support you give me, it means the world to me!! Reblogs and comments are highly appeciated^^ Word count- 2.8k

Not knowing how to deal with your rampaging emotions you kept pacing back and forth in your apartment like a lunatic. You were at loss for words, never in your life you felt this humiliated and to think that Minho, the person who was supposed to be your safe space and your comfort person was the source of that!

Honestly, you felt torn, you were beyond mad at frustrated at Minho and wanted to rip him a new one, but at the same time you felt so heartbroken and miserable all you wanted to was to crawl in your bed and not get up for at least a week. It also didn’t help at all that your week was an absolute shit, with this said day being the cake on the top. All you wanted to do was to have a lunch with your boyfriend and just forget all the bullshit you had to go through. You knew he had a hectic schedule due to an upcoming comeback. Heck, you barely had seen him for the last maybe three weeks. He was already at practice when you woke up and immediately went to sleep when he came back in the middle of the night so he had barely any time to talk or text to you, you weren’t even talking about seeing you in person. It was what pissed you off the most. You were too considerate, how many people would be able to handle having a relationship like that, when a simple text sent your way made you want to throw fireworks? You knew he was busy, you only wanted to see him for what a half hour, just to eat together? Maybe get a hug? And an encouraging word that you could get through the day? No, what you get for bringing your very busy boyfriend and his bandmates his favorite takeout is to get yelled at in front of the said bandmates to being overly clingy and overbearing.

One part of you wanted to break down sobbing, the other part wanted to bring hell to him and make a biggest scene ever, in reality? You just left, not an ounce of emotion on your face. Maybe it would be better if you did either or those, at least you wouldn’t feel this torn now. So full of emotions feeling like you could burst any scond. No, you knew you were angry and rightfully so, this is why the tears that wouldn’t stop streaming down your face aggravated you even more. He didn’t deserve your tears not after the bullshit he pulled.

Another pang of notification brought you back to reality, God how many massages was he going to send? Who was clingy and overbearing now? If he thought that you would forgive just like that just because he was sorry then he was a damn fool. You knew he didn’t mean it; you knew him long enough to know that whenever he was too stressed he had outbursts like he did earlier and he said stuff he didn’t necessarily mean. It was an objective fact that you didn’t deserve to be called clingy. But it didn’t matter, he humiliated you in front of all these people and that wasn’t something you could easily forgive. Hell, how could you forget such thing? He could have said that he needed space that he was busy, no matter how vulnerable you felt, no matter how much you needed him in that moment you would have understood.

Maybe it was a sign. Your relationship was still considered new, it wouldn’t hurt as much ending things now. Maybe you could even return to being friends again. Another pang of your phone followed by another in less than five seconds, then another.

God, you couldn’t bear it anymore, you needed some air.

Not even considering to take your phone with you you left your apartment. You didn’t exactly know where you were going but it would be better than feeling suffocated in your own house.

***

Probably not the wisest choice because now you were worst kind of drunk in this bar meaning your mind was completely sober but your body seemed disconnected from your mind, everything was spinning and your whole body moved as if in slow motion. God what a beautiful day you couldn’t even drink to forget your own sorrows. Better go home then, or at least head to that direction.

You only managed to pay for the drinks and get outside before you felt so queasy you had to stop and lean on the lamppost. God, you hated that your body wasn’t listening to you.

Also, you were starting to regret not bringing your phone with you. You would have called your friend to pick you up and maybe take you with them or at least order a cab. Also, not really wise to spend most of the money you had in your wallet on drinks. God, you felt like shit.

Oh wow it was already night, and based on how there was barely anyone around it must’ve been quite late too.

You started walking but barely made 10 steps before you had to stop again, it was as if your body had a mind on its own and was refusing to cooperate.

“Baby!” You heard a loud yell and before you even had the time to react you were engulfed biggest hug ever. You almost wrapped your arms around your boyfriend before you remembered you were mad at him. Fortunately for you he almost immediately let go, carefully examining everything, his eyes so full of worry you felt bad for him for a second.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t even try to hide your displeasure. Minho flinched as if he was physically hit by your words.

“I was searching for you! I was out here wandering in these streets trying to find you for hours! I was about to call the police when I saw you here!” You felt guilty, looking at him. He looked dishelved, hair messy as if he had run his hand through it countless times, he was out of breath as if he had been running, his eyes red and swollen as if he had cried…Was he really running around searching for you?

“Who’s being clingy now? Couldn’t last five minutes without seeing me? Had to search for me all over town? So clingy and overbearing!” You watched as your words hit him like a slap, his face morphed into a pained one. You felt horrible talking to him this way, but part of you was satisfied, wanting him to know just how much words could hurt.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was quite almost inaudible, you knew he meant it but you would be dammed if you forgave him just like that.

“You should be, you were beyond cruel.” Even you were surprised how emotionless you sounded. You would also be fooled if you didn’t know the turmoil that was inside you right at this moment.

He lowered his gaze unable to look you in the eyes. “I know.” Oh great he knows, what a balm to your wound.

“You really hurt me Minho!” There was it, the anger, the hurt, you didn’t have the energy to contain it anymore.

“I know.”

“Oh that fixes everything then! You know! Do you know anything but that sentence? Is that all you have to say?” Silence, you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh bitterly, feeling defeated. “What even are you doing here Minho?”

“You weren’t picking up the phone, your house was empty, neither your friends or your family knew where you were. I had to find you to know that you were safe!” His voice was strained, he looked like he was seconds away from busting in tears.

“I’m safe you can go home now!” You turned around to head home, all these emotions making you feel a bit more sober. You barely made two steps before a hand grabbed your wrist gently halting your movement. His voice desperately calling your name. “Please…”

You couldn’t take this anymore. You turned back to him eyes full of rage burning with unshed tears begging to be let out. “Please what Minho? What do you want me to do? You can’t even tell me normally why you were searching for me. You agree with me that you hurt me yet you’re not even saying you’re sorry, and no I won’t take that halfassed apology or whatever that was. What do you want me to do? It’s like you don’t even know what you want yourself so what do you really expect me to do?”

You watched a tear run down his reddened cheek. It infuriated you how breathtaking he looked right now. Not even the most skilled painter would be able to capture his beauty, not a single camera would be able to capture the full beauty. God, you hated how your heart only sang for him even in this much pain he caused. Here he was watching you in sorrow, in pain, angered by his betrayal while he did nothing just stand there idly looking ethereal, still managing to have you in his chokehold.

“Do you even love me?” No matter how hard you tried to fight it the dam broke. A tear slid down your face, quickly followed by another, then yet another, till it felt like a little stream down your face. You forced yourself to look him in the eyes, the pain and anger burning in them. His eyes also full of pain but you couldn’t read anything more. There were times you thought you could read his emotions… What a fool you were.

Your body started to shake trying to hold violent sobs wanting to break through. No matter how much you were fighting it you were starting to break down as if already knowing the answer. Subtly wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to hold yourself, to prevent breaking down even more. You hated feeling this weak. Hated that you couldn’t control yourself. Hated that you had to break down in front of him like this! To show him your weakness…

It was as if Minho awoke from the trance he was in, in the tenth of the second his arms were gently cradling your face and his lips were connected to yours, giving you probably the most passionate kiss you had ever received.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire. The tears really felt like tiny rivers on your face, no matter how many times Minho tried to gently rub them from your face with his thumbs they just wouldn’t stop coming. The kiss was gentle yet firm, it tasted salty from both your tears (probably mostly yours) but still familiarly sweet. His lips moved against yours in determination, as if to show you his feelings the only way he knew how.

You felt like your body and mind were on overdrive feeling too many emotions at once, not fully knowing how to react. You tried to resist the urge to reciprocate the kiss but you almost immediately folded, almost quite literally because now if not Minho’s hands migrating from your face to your waist you weren’t sure you would be able to be stand. Yor body felt like it was completely shutting down and you felt like you were at his mercy and based on how tightly he held you against his body and how fiercely he was kissing you he wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon. And he didn’t, he only leaned his head back a little to give you time to catch your breath.

“I’m cruel as you said, and mean and cold and I most definitely don’t deserve such an amazing person as you by my side, I’m not even worthy of your forgiveness! You didn’t deserve to be told you’re clingy or overbearing or some shit like that when you’ve been so supportive, so kind, so patient and loving towards me when we both know I didn’t do shit to earn it.” His broken voice pulled on your heartstrings, no matter how angry you felt it was whole another pain to feel him talk so about himself. Minho lifted your hands and carefully kissed both of them, his hands slightly trembling. He looked you in the eyes, and for a second you were taken aback with the sea, no ocean of emotions in them. “I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings. There’s nothing I can say to justify my actions, but I promise you I never meant any of my words. I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible boyfriend to you but please trust me when I say, I love you with my whole heart, with everything I have and everything I am, please never doubt that.”

You stood like that for a second or two, maybe even a minute, unable to find words to say. You didn’t even now what you were feeling. Everything inside was a mess. Sighing in defeat you held your hand forward, Minho’s confused eyes snapping at them then at you in a second.

“Take me home.”

Minho took your hand without even thinking twice.

***

You knew you said that you felt a bit more sober earlier but that turned out to be a lie because you still felt so queasy getting in your bed felt like climbing the mount Everest and that with Minho’s help, who didn’t once let go of your hand and helped you with every step of your night routine. None of you had said a word since you held in your hand to him. You knew he was nervous based on the slight trembling you felt from time to time as you held his hand but honestly you didn’t know what you were going to say to him.

“I texted everyone that you’re home safe and that you’re going to sleep.” Minho broke the silence, his voice a bit coarse. You looked at him which made him look even more nervous. If not the circumstances you would find his unsureness and even shyness absolutely endearing. “There’s water and painkillers on your bedside table.” A nod from you, you were tired, you felt like you could sleep for a whole day.

You quickly came back to your senses when he let go of your hand. “You should go to sleep now, I will leave you to rest.”

Thankfully you managed to grab his wrist before he could leave. “Where are you going?“ Minho looked taken aback, clearly not expecting you to reach out for him.

“I thought you would want some space.” He sounded defeated.

You groaned as you fell on your bed. “God we really need to work on our communication skills. I promise I will tell you if I ever need space from you, now get in bed. There’s no way I’m letting you out of house on 3 am or whatever time it is, it’s late!”

After a second of silence you opened your eye to check on Minho, to see if he was here and you weren’t talking to yourself like a lunatic. The sight made your breath hitch. He had the softest smile adorning his face as he watched you, his eyes full of love, you had never seen him smiling at you like that.

“Careful or I might think you care for me.” There he was being a little shit you knew and loved, had to ruin a moment. you made sure to groan as loudly and as dramatically as possible.

“Minho I swear to God! Get in bed or I am going to make you sleep on the floor!” You tried to threaten but the smile that broke through your face wasn’t fooling anyone.

Minho didn’t waste a second and almost immediately you were pulled into a hug, your head smushed against his chest which beat wildly as if in joy.

“I could have given you a second to change you know, I think I might have something you can change into…” Minho didn’t let you finish your sentence -“Let me just hold you for a second, please.”

Not wanting to deny him you wrapped your arms around him and held him just as tight. Both of you feeling content being in each other’s arms, finally feeling calm and most importantly safe.

“I love you.” You heard Minho mutter against your skin, he was so still you thought he had fallen asleep. You looked up at him, there was that gaze again, so full of love and tenderness. Not even trying to hide your smile you leaned in and captured his lips in a soft kiss. “I know. I love you too.”

Reblogs and comments are highly appeciated^^

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lowkeyremi · 1 year

Text

Back off my man osamu x fem!reader

notes: I was only gonna write for tsumu but like it's osamu's bday too and i love him. Basically some girl doesn't seem to get the hint so u have to assert ur dominance. the tsumu ver is here

Content: slight language, fluff, little bit suggestive (just a past sexual relationship samu had, established relationship

"Are you free tonight, Samu?" She asks him with a smile on her face.

He's told her millions of times about his girlfriend, which is you. This girl is persistent though, and has told him many times she'll treat him better than you ever could.

Which pisses you off because you've been his girl forever and you don't understand why this girl thinks she can just come in and take your spot.

"I've already told ya, I won't be free for ya, ever. What part of that do you not understand?" He asks, setting down a plate of your favorite onigiri for you. The workload has been crazy this past week and Osamu will always do anything to make you feel a little bit better. You do the same for him on days when the shop gets crazy.

"I just don't understand Samu! You used to have time for me during culinary school when we-" He cuts her off sharply.

"That was over six years ago, I don't understand why ya hang on so tightly to something that was never meant to be! We fucked a coupla times back then and that was it. I found the one for me, so please drop it." His jaw is clenched and you can tell he's very irritated by this woman.

His fist is also balled up on the counter. You try to soothe him by grabbing his hand and rubbing circles into it. He breathes softly trying to calm down.

You can't just sit here and watch this woman do this anymore. You've tried to be nice to her, but she makes it so hard.

"But-"

"Listen, if Osamu wanted you he would have chosen you. Osamu is a smart man and he knows what he wants." You're good at keeping your voice level when you feel anything but calm.

She glares at you, and Osamu doesn't even say anything. He's trying to calm down some.

The woman gets up from the high top stool and stomps out of the shop.

"M'sorry ya had to see that, she just wasn't getting the hint." He says removing his cap and running a hand through his rich dark brown hair.

"It's okay, you look hot when you're mad." Even though it was a crappy joke it still gets a little chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Gonna go tidy up, are you heading to the house or stayin' here?" His look definitely says he wants you to stay, who are you to deny?

"Well duh! Who's gonna be DJ?" Nothing could bring you more satisfaction than the way his smile drops at the mention of you playing your music.

"On second thought, maybe ya should go home. Had a long day right?" Osamu is stuck with you, he should know this already.

You pretend to think about it for a second. "Hmm I think I'll stay."

"Okay, but don't play any of yer shitty music or I'll kick ya out." The crazy thing is that he's one hundred percent serious. You and Osamu are complete opposites except for the fact that you two both love food.

Your music taste has never really been his favorite. The same is true for his music. You always cover your ears and pretend gag.

"Hey 'samu?" You ask voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He returns.

"Do that more, okay? If anyone hits on you-"

"That was a one time thing cuz she kept asking over 'n over. Most people stop after the first time." Osamu disappears into the kitchen and you open your favorite music app to play your favorite artist.

"Womp womp, no more hot Osamu."

"The hell are ya talkin' about? 'M hot all the time." There's defensiveness in his voice like he was actually taking you seriously.

"I know, it was just a joke." You counter with a smirk.

"Ain't a funny one I can tell ya that." His large bulging arms cross and you can see his muscles flex.

"Go clean up! Stop looking like a thirst-trap all the damn time!" You whine in frustration. Osamu's deep laughter follows not too long after.

"Whatever ya say, sweetie."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu #osamu miya fluff #miya twins #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine

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sungbeam · 7 months

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬

jeong yunho x gn!reader

1.1k words, friends 2 friends who cuddle ?, one bed trope, fluff, humor, like two swear words cuz who am i without cursing, snuggling, consequences of yunho being Tall (implied that reader is shorter than yunho)

a/n: im sorry that this kinda sucks ass but yeah,, one bed trope :')

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'm going to hate this,” Jeong Yunho swore as his head poked up into the attic space, eyes wide in horror.

When the inn owners said that the attic was hardly an attic, they unfortunately were not exaggerating. It was close to a crawl space, with just enough room for you to stand up straight, and outfitted with an extra long twin bed, nightstand and lamp, a pillow, and two large sherpa wool blankets. The bed was fitted beneath the slope of the roof because the entire space wasn't even large enough to put the bed in the middle.

You were starting to sweat, and considering there wasn't even heating up here, you raced to calm your nerves. “It'll be fine,” you said with a small, anxious laugh.

Yunho moved his terrified eyes up to you. “Respectfully? I'm gonna go sleep in the storm.”

When he moved to descend the ladder, you slid on your knees to grab hold of his wrist. “Come on, big guy. It's one night.”

“Yn, what if I said I was claustrophobic, huh?” He whined, but reluctantly followed you all the way up the ladder and into the attic. He straightened—big mistake. You heard the loud thump as his head met the roof, and grimaced. “Oooow!”

You hissed and reached over to gently rub the place that began to smart when he leaned down. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whimpered. “Can I sleep in the lobby?”

Around ten minutes later, after many trials and tribulations and head bonks, you and Yunho somehow transferred your duffle bags up the ladder and into your glorified crawl space. They took up the space just beside the ladder and at the foot of the bed, and as you stared at said twin bed, you wondered if Yunho's legs would even fit on it.

Most likely not.

In fact, you were certain that two people couldn't even fit on the bed unless they were either on top of each other or packed together like sardines.

You reminded yourself that it was only going to be one night. This was what the two of you got for leaving five hours after everyone else, just to get caught in tonight's awful storm and stuck with the only “room” available for miles. In retrospect, it was your fault. Yunho had been generous enough in offering to stay behind with you until you finished your last exam.

“You can have the bed,” you told him as you were both crouched by your bags to grab clothes to sleep in. Despite your realization about your counterpart's long limbs and the bed's shortcomings, you wanted to extend an offer of chivalry.

Yunho twisted around and sent you an incredulous look. “What?”

“You drove us up here,” you replied with a shrug. You swiftly draped your sleep clothes over one arm and gathered your bag of toiletries in the other. “And you waited for me to finish my exam and you're kinda being dealt the short end of the stick with this room.”

He sat down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, and though his face was still pulled into the same expression, he laughed. “Yn, I hate to break it to you, but I think you're gonna fit better on that bed than I will.”

You pursed your lips, gazing over at the narrow slot on the floor between the other sloping roof and the bed. That was the only other place someone could sleep in this room. “I don't want you to sleep on the floor though.”

“I know I was complaining, but don't worry about it,” he reassured as he turned back to dig through his duffle. He flicked his wrist blindly in your direction. “You can wash up first; I'll set everything up.”

Since he left little to no room for argument, you resolved to do as he suggested. There was a community washroom on the floor below that you made your way toward. As unfortunate as your accommodation was for the night, you were eager to head back up and go to sleep. Yours and Yunho's friends were all waiting at Seonghwa's cabin already, and perhaps it wasn't just exhaustion that made you antsy for this night to get a move on.

You and Yunho just needed to get through tonight. It would be fine.

When you returned to the attic crawl space, Yunho had everything set up as he said he would. He'd found an extra set of sheets from one of the downstairs closets and laid it on the ground by the bed, then rationed one of the blankets for himself and the other for you on the bed.

You let out a tired sigh and trudged over to the bed to grab the pillow from where it rested on the headboard. You set the pillow instead at the head of Yunho's sleeping situation, then balled up one of your jackets to use as your own pillow. Once satisfied, you climbed into bed, and you were out like a light.

Everything was hazy as you emerged from deep sleep to confused half-consciousness. The room was descended into darkness, the sounds of light rain drumming steadily against the sloped rooftop above your head. Your brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton—why had you suddenly woken up?

Then you heard it.

“Achoo.” Then another one. And another one.

Even half dead, your brain could put two and two together. You rolled over slightly to wave your arm over the side of the bed, hand flapping around until you bumped Yunho's shoulder. “Hey, Yunho.”

Another sneeze.

“Yun, get your butt up here.”

He grunted. “'m fine.”

“You're gonna get sick,” you grumbled with your face half squished against your jacket zipper. That was definitely going to leave a mark in the morning. “Come up here, for fuck's sake.”

He made another noise, perhaps of acknowledgment, before you heard sounds of movement.

You kept your eyes half-lidded to keep as much light out as possible, and rolled over again. As he crawled onto his knees, and then his feet, you opened up your blanket to him so he could join you.

“Pillow,” he slurred—you whined when it hit you in the face. “Sorry.”

In a drowsy drugged tango, you swapped your jacket out for the pillow and Yunho wormed his way onto the bed beneath your blanket. You scooted as close to the wall as you could, but even then, Yunho was pressed flush against you. His arms came around your waist, his nose wedging itself between your neck and shoulder until he was comfortable.

“Your feet are cold,” you muttered. “Get them under the blanket.”

“Too tall.”

“Show off.”

He huffed out a puff of air against your neck like a laugh, then tucked his knees up slightly to fit under the blanket. Your legs were now tangled among his, your bodies curled tightly together. In the morning, you would rationalize it out as creating body heat to prevent either of you from getting sick.

When movement stopped, you voiced into the darkness, “Better?”

A content sigh. “Better.”

Maybe this accommodation wasn't so bad after all.

ateez m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

#kflixnet #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #yunho scenarios #yunho drabble #yunho imagines #ateez fanfic

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manicpixiefelix · 9 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

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petew21-blog · 28 days

Text

A 5 star review

"Ok, Luke and one final question. A very well known and feared movie critic, Marcus Montoya, in his latest review for one of your films, has called you stiff and boring for a gay guy. What would you respond to him if he were here right now?"

"I would tell him to come see me at Lotus club tonight and we'll see which one of the two of us is the boring one. Haha"

"Ok, thank you for answering and have a great day"

Lotus club, Friday 10:14 PM

Luke:"Oh look who we have here. I really didn't think you would show. A straight gay in here. And you actually look bored."

Marcus:"Bored from watching you and your movies"

Luke:"Look, I don't know what you have against me, but it seems personal. If you wanna talk about it, spit it out. If not, then let me show you how gay people have fun. What do you think?"

There was a slight change in Marcus's expression that showed he wasn't really gonna talk, which Luke immediately noticed. Luke smiled and grabbed his arm and took him to the dance floor. They danced and drank for hours.

Luke:"So you're not into me. You're not gay and I haven't done anything bad to you. Why do you hate me then?"

Marcus:"It's my job to say mean stuff about people. It tends to bring out the best in them."

Luke:"That's a stupid theory. So, why coming here?"

Marcus:"I wanted to see if you can have fun"

Luke:"Oh I can show you even more fun"

Marcus stopped dancing and leaned Luke's ear.

Luke:"Oh don't worry honey. I won't tell a single soul. Let's go"

They arrived to Luke's appartement. Still drunk. One a bit hornier than the other.

They kissed all the way to the bedroom.

Luke:"Wanna top?"

Marcus:"I don't even know what that means."

Luke:"Jesus, you straight guys. I'll walk you through it."

Luke positioned himself on top of Marcus. Flexing for him

Luke:"You like these guns?"

Marcus stayed silent. He looked like he was concentrating hard enough to stay hard.

Luke felt dominant. He was fucking his tormentor. It didn't matter who had dick in whose ass. It mattered that his tormentor was now beneath him. His straight tormentor.

He could already feel his dick pulsating inside of him. He didn't wear a condom. Luke knew that this guy wasn't the type to transmit anything. Besides, he wanted all the cum inside of him. He wanted to feel all of it

Luke collapsed on the bed. Except Luke now felt a bit heavier and there was a very hunky man breathing heavily next to him

Marcus:"I really didn't think I'd convince you for having sex with me. Damn, for a gay sex this was a thrill. But I don't think I'll be doing that ever again. Or atleast for some time necessary."

Luke:"How did this happen? How did you do this?"

Marcus:"Relax. It resets back after we have sex again"

Luke:"So we're not stuck like this?"

Marcus:"Calm down, man. You'll get to have sex with yourself. Not everyone gets that chance. Now tell me where can I get some water?"

Luke still perplexed:"The... Kitchen. In the kitchen. There is filtered water."

Marcus got up with his new borrowed body. Luke was observing his new hairy and not very well maintained body.

Luke looked up as he heard footsteps coming back from the kitchen

Marcus:"I kinda lied about the sex part"

BANG. One bullet shot from the gun held by Luke's body

Marcus was now standing in his own appartement, clean from all the blood he had to scrape from his new body. Getting rid of his old body turned out to be much harder than he thought.

He went through all the steps in his head, just to figure out if he didn't forget anything.

"Honeyyy? Are you finished?" a voice echoed from the hall behind the door

"Yeah. Come in, love. No need to be ashamed. It's still me." Marcus answered with joy

His wife entered the bathroom.

Jessica:"Oh looking good, sir. I'm almost blushing from looking at you. I feel like cheating."

Marcus grabbed her by the waist and sat her down on his lap while sitting down on the toilet.

Marcus:"As if we haven't done this many times now. So, how do you like my new body?"

Jess:"Very handsome, very sexy. But... I'm not feeling so comfortable about all this gay stuff. Are you sure it wouldn't be easier to find someone... more normal?"

Marcus:"Oh honey, I'm queer now. You can't say that shit in front of me"

Both of them laughed out loud

Marcus:"I'll mention in another interview that God showed me the right way or some other bullshit. Can't let all the people know what really happened to Luke."

"Now, let's introduce this dick to your pussy. I have to beat that thought of fucking ass out of my head."

Another story request from inbox

Could you do a story where a straight movie critic swaps bodies with Luke Macfarlane?

Btw don't be like this fictional Luke and WEAR A CONDOM 😁

#male body swap #body swapping #body swap #criminal body swap #Celebrity body swap #body switch #straight to gay #gay to straight

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whorekneecentral · 11 months

Text

Snow Storm

Pato O'Ward x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pato doesn't listen, snow storms, getting stranded, car troubles, reader's mad at him and will lowkey let him freeze, teasing, it's giving dom!pato for like 0.2 seconds, oral (f!receiving), lowkey blackmail, penetrative sex (P in V), creampie.

Word Count: 1,729

Author's Note: this is for the six pato fans out there, I hope y'all like this one :)

merry smutmas series

Your boyfriend insists the roads are fine to drive despite the massive incoming snow storm; as someone who grew up in cold weather, you knew better. yet, there you were stuck on the side of the road with him in the snow.

"Do you seriously have to go right now?" You asked him, leaning over from your spot on the bed.

Your boyfriend nods, "yes, because if I leave it back - I won't finish wrapping it. Plus, it's a week before Christmas, the wrapping paper might be sold out."

Rolling your eyes, you sit up properly. "Pato, don't be ridiculous. They're not gonna run out of wrapping paper."

"You never know!" He huffed, arms flung in the air like a child.

You and Pato had returned to your home town to spend Christmas with your family before heading up to Mexico to join his family for New Year. It had been snowing on and off since you got home a few days ago but it really came down last night. Most of the roads were a disaster but Pato was insistent on getting this stupid wrapping paper.

"The roads are going to be a mess, babe. Can we not just go tomorrow?" You asked him but the man was already getting up, grabbing his hoodie off the end of your bed.

"Please," he shrugs you off, "I drive race cars, a little snow ain't nothing to a driver like me."

You can't help but laugh at his dramatics; you grew up in the snow, you know how brutal it can be to get stuck out there and yet, you stupidly follow him down the staircase and to the car.

Pato takes the side street the two of you had taken many times before. See, you lived in a small town in the middle of basically nowhere. When it snowed, people tended to stay indoors but they did plow the roads, but only the main ones took priority. This meant that the road you were on was one of the last to be plowed yesterday and had yet to be plowed today.

With the snow coming down on top of what had already fallen that morning, the mountain of snow piled up along the sides of the road. Pato's focused on the road but as he turns to go over the hill before getting into town, the wheel stops moving. He can hear the grinding, the wheels spinning but it's stuck in something.

You look over at the man, "are you kidding me right now?"

"Wha-" he sighs, "I'll go check." He tells you, pulling the hood over his head as he steps out of the car.

When he opens the door, you shiver. You had not only followed him out of the house but you were wearing sweats and a hoodie, that was nowhere close to enough to keep you warm.

"So," he says as he gets back into the car, looking over at you with a tight lipped smile. "We're stuck."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Okay, so I can push the car out-" he says but you stop him, waving him off. "There's no point, you won't make it over the hill and there's too much snow to make it back to the house right now."

His brows furrow, looking over at you. "So what? We're just stuck here?"

"Yeah, for now at least." You pick up your phone and text your sister, letting her know you two are stuck and if she could please call the roadside assistance. Pato sat quietly, not wanting to annoy you further; after all, you did suggest to wait until tomorrow.

"We're here for at least another 3 hours," you tell him, "she says they're gonna clear the roads and then come this way."

The man nods, staring out the window as you unbuckled, shifting in your seat to climb into the back. He looks at you, confused and you pat the spot next to you. "If we're gonna be stuck for 3 hours, we can at least be warm. Come cuddle."

He climbs over the seat, clinging to you the moment he gets into the backseat. While you were cold, you were used to this weather so it wasn't so bad but for Pato, it was as if you had shipped him off to Antarctica. He's shivering, trying to get as close to you as possible; he wonders if you'd let him get into your sweater with you.

You can't help but laugh at the sight of your boyfriend. He huffs, looking up at you. "What?"

"I told you not to come out today." You laughed and he rolled his eyes. "How rude? Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll move and let you freeze to death." You tell him and Pato smiles, sitting up a bit. "You won't."

It's your turn to roll your eyes now, moving away from your boyfriend towards the door. Pato ignores your theatrics and moves closer to you again, cuddling into your side. You don't move nor do you react, you simply ignore the man.

Pato holds back the urge to roll his eyes, his lips pressed to your jaw and moves down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind. "C'mon mi amor, I'm sorry."

You ignore the man, not answering him. You'd move away again but if you move another further, you'd end up outside of the car.

He huffs, "fine, if you won't help me warm up, I'll warm myself up." His hand moves from your thigh to the hem of your sweats, shoving his hand down the front.

"Pato!" You laughed, grabbing his wrist. He smiles, "oh so that got your attention?"

"You mean you shoving your freezing hand down my pants? Yeah," you laughed but the man doesn't move his hand- at least not in the way you meant. His fingers rubbed over your panties, he can feel how warm you are, how wet you were.

"Something's got you worked up?" He asks and you ignore him question, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you try not to moan.

Pato's fingers worked slowly, pulling your panties to the side to rub on your clit and you let out a little whimper - by accident of course.

He figured there had to be a fast way to get you to forgive him. He moves his hand away and you give him a look, one he knows too well - why'd you do that. "I know," he tells you, "I'm sorry babe, one second." He pulls you by your hips to lay on the bed seat, your Uggs on the floor as he reaches for your sweats, pulling them off.

"How is this gonna make me warm?" You grumbled, an arm over your face.

"Shut up, will you?" He glances up to you, repositioning himself between your legs.

His hands rub over your thighs and despite his hands being freezing, it felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. Eventually, his hand ends up right where it previously was - exactly where you wanted it.

You let out a breath when you feel his lips on your thigh, soft kisses being peppered across the surface of your inner thigh. Your head falls back against the seat when you feel his tongue on you, he’s yet to move your panties and you're already a mess.

He finally does, smiling to himself “Fuck-” you breathe, fingers tangled in his hair.

Pato glances up at you, his nose brushes against your clit and he doesn't miss the sound coming out of your mouth or the way your hips jut towards him.

"Pato," you whined, pulling on his hair when he stopped for a moment. He chuckles, "do you forgive me?" He asked, a hand running up the side of your thigh.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the man. "What?"

"Say you forgive me and I'll give you whatever you want, corazón."

"Fine," you huffed, "I forgive you." You tell him quickly, pulling him back to you. Pato laughs, his face buried between your legs once again.

Your thighs squeeze around his face; he'd die a happy man right there.

You can't wait any longer, you need him in every sense of the word. Pulling your boyfriend up, he kisses you when he meets your face and you can taste yourself on him, the two of you shuffling around a bit. Pato's sitting now, his own pants pulled down half over his thighs and you're on top of him, straddling him.

He lets you sink down onto his cock. Both of you letting out a satisfied sigh, your hands gripping on his shoulders as you set the pace.

He lets out a groan when you clench around him, his hands squeezing your bare thighs, red finger prints on your skin. Pato's face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss him. You kiss all over his face, Pato cheeks red from the blush forming on his cheeks.

He loves when you love on him like that.

“You’re so good for me,” you mumble against his cheek, rocking your hips back and forth. “Mmm there,” you breathe, chest pressed to his. His lips find the base of your neck, he bites down softly before kissing up to your jaw.

Pato's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you bounced on his lap. The two of you are tangled together, not sure where one of you ends and the other starts. The windows are steamy, you're no longer freezing but instead, you were sweating.

"C'mon, just like that pretty girl," he edges you on, lifting his hips to meet you halfway.

“My pretty girl, so good for me.” He whispers into the silence.

You pull him down onto you, his chest pressed to yours and your hand rests on his cheek. Your boyfriend kissing you and with a few sloppy thrusts, you feel yourself being pushed over the edge.

He groans, feeling you clench around him and he follows behind you, now coming down from his own high.

The two of you clinging onto each other, his hands slip under the back of your sweater and you giggle, bucking forward on his lap which makes him groan.

"Don't do that," he tells you and you roll your eyes, "then don't tickle me!"

Pato laughs, pulling you in for a kiss. "Warm now?"

"Sweating," you huffed, smiling against his lips.

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#pato o'ward #pato o'ward x reader #pato o'ward smut #f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 x reader #merry smutmas xoxo

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fleur-bbyy · 2 years

Text

I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL

rating: 18+, minors DNI. ageless blogs are blocked.

warnings: sex sex sex, porn!au, no quirks, fake stepcest, fake stuckage, afab reader, reader is described to have a big ass, sex work, only fans mentions, breeding kink, pet names, use of oniichan, daddy kink, lots of porn barely any plot, all characters are aged up to 21+

katsuki is an ass man and no one can convince me otherwise.

part two.

“hey! what’re you doing step-bro?”

you were trying your best to play up the horrible script you were given. especially since you were hungry and had been on this set for five fucking hours already and you’re just now getting to the fucking. after what felt like an eternity of makeup, wardrobe, and pictures taken for the cover you were just ready to put your tits back in your tiny tank top and stop with this corny-ass scenario. stepcest stuckage.

of fucking course.

you were coming up on a year in the porn industry after being scouted from amateur sites and quickly shooting up in popularity as a pro. you were one of the many amateurs who had become pro in the last year and shot up fast in rankings, being dubbed a member of the “golden eight.” you had shot multiple times with six of the other seven, even becoming good friends with most of them and doing side stuff on your onlyfans with the burly red-head that people seem to adore seeing you with. occasionally filming some with the pinkette girl, too.

this was your first time shooting with the last out of the other seven, katsuki bakugo. famously called ‘dynamight’ because of his explosive personality and his ability to give equally as explosive orgasms to men and women both.

“cut! luxe, arch your back more baby. really need’ta see that ass pop.” your director shouted as your coordinator came to position you in a way that pleased him. luxe was your stage name when you were still amateur, and it just always stuck around. nobody in your agency wanted to change your name as luxe was synonymous with the girl that had a ‘fat, peachy ass’ and could ‘squirt buckets.’ you rolled your eyes at the camera that was positioned in the front loading dryer you were “stuck” in. they insisted it’d be best to catch your reactions close up.

“dynamight! you still good back there?” the director shouted once again as the coordinator finished up her work.

“yeah, just hard as a fuckin’ rock and ready to get the fuck on with it.”

“wouldn’t expect any less from you!” you were graciously warned about the blonde’s brash personality, even going as far to meet up with him a time or two before the shoot just so you’d be aware. and boy, were they right. always shouting obscenities and such vulgarity that is made seasoned pornstars blush, but you both seemed to get along due to your shared hatred of corny, half-scripted shoots and directors who think they have the next big video. dynamight was known for being a rough dom. always keen to leaving bruises with how hard he’ll grip the hips of whoever he’s getting down with and extremely fond of hickies. unfortunately for the two of you, he wasn’t allowed to mark you up this time.

you huffed loudly as your director kept going on and on about how great this was gonna be and how amazing it is to have two of the top stars in his video.

“yeah, yeah, fantastic. now can we get on with it? his viagra’s gonna wear off before he gets any action and my pussy will dry up so fast the sahara will be envious.” you half-yelled so you were able to heard from the your confines in the dryer. you heard the blonde behind you laugh, lightly brushing one of his rough hands against the exposed skin on your ass, sending a shiver down your spine and into your aching core.

the camera-man finally started filming and you saw the red light of your camera that was catching your face light up as the director gave the thumbs up. you once again repeated your corny-ass mandatory lines and you finally felt his fingers push your soaked panties to the side. you relaxed a bit, knowing that everything from here was basically free reign for the two of you. only a few more required lines from him.

“look how wet you fuckin’ get from your oniisan. only dirty fuckin’ sluts act like this.” he slapped your under-stimulated clit and gently moved his fingers up and down your soaked cunt. you moaned loudly. genuinely mewls and whines escaped your lips as he kneaded the fat of your famous ass. you couldn’t tell if you were just so needy or if your colleague behind you was just that fucking good.

it didn’t help that he was pretty fucking attractive, either. you were practically swimming in your juices the first time you met. ready to drop your pants and give it to him like you were on the casting couch.

you felt his cockhead circling your tight entrance as you whined for him. big, genuine whines. you had never been so eager to be fucked on camera, something about him enamored you. you felt the smallest little bit of his fat tip slip in your folds, but he stopped there.

“say it.”

“w-what?”

“say it. tell me you’re my little whore. oniichan’s personal slut. just using you to keep my dick wet.” he gripped your hips with his strong hands to keep you from throwing your hips back onto him, not like katsuki would mind. he thinks you’re pretty and sexy and has been waiting so long to sink his dick into your pretty folds. he’s fucked his right fist so many nights to your videos on your onlyfans, loving that you weren’t staged to do anything. that it was just you.

he’s also admitted multiple times on his social media that he is definitely an ass man and practically creamed his pants when he got the call that you were shooting together.

“fuck yes! i’m your whore, oniichan! please please please fuck me!” and with that he roughly slapped your ass and unceremoniously slammed his length into your cunt, resulting in a loud moan from you that could probably be heard from the main audio system. he let a rough growl escape from his throat and smirked when your pussy tightened around him. your walls were so warm and inviting, like his cock was made for you.

“fuck yes, baby. look at you taking your brother so, so good hah slutty pussy suckin’ me right in fuck. you wanted this didn’t you?” his movements were quick, rough, and calculated. the man inside you had turned animalistic as soon as his heavy, aching cock got a kiss of your sweet insides. almost immediately finding that spongy spot inside you that made you feel like you could let go already. he bullied his fat cock into your tight hole like he owned it. like you were his personal fucktoy.

“ohmygod yes… fuck please please please.” you babbled, not having to do much work to play your reactions up for your camera. he genuinely just felt so good, so perfect inside your warm cunt. it’d only been a few moments and you were already drunk off the way he slid in an out of you, fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before.

sweat was already slicking up katsuki’s body and sparse blonde hairs stuck to his now-shiny forehead. the sight of his thick cock disappearing inside the co-worker of his dream’s pussy had him feeling like he could bust his nut already. his ruby red eyes bore into you, watching the way your ass jiggled every time his pelvis met the area where you butt and thighs met. he wished he could see your little fucked-out face. he so desperately wanted to watch as your pretty mouth let out those whiny and desperate moans, just for him.

just for him.

he usually didn’t, but he was definitely watching this video once it’s out, so desperately wanting to know what your sweet face looked like as he fucked you like a feral man.

“atta girl, little minx aren’cha? i bet you got stuck here on purpose just so you could get your step-brother to fuck you senseless.” he fucked into your dripping pussy harder after the director gave the green light, he too looked like he could bust in his jeans just from the sight of two attractive people fucking before him. it filled katsuki’s already full ego even more.

“god yes daddy wanted you s’fuckin’ bad!” daddy. the five letter word replayed in his head over and over again. it filled him with such an animalistic possession to know that you did do some research of your own, how else would you have known he goes crazy over that little name?

“oh fuck, callin’ me daddy now, eh? you filthy fuckin’ girl- oh shit!” he had to throw his head back from the pleasure as you threw your ass back against him, fucking yourself on his cock. your mewls growing louder as you split yourself open on him and he felt your already-tight walls begin to clamp down harder, squeezing his dick just right. he used the hand that wasn’t pushing your thong to the side to reach around and rub circles on your swollen, neglected clit.

“please daddy… i need to cum fuck i need to cum!” you loudly moaned, almost at a pitch similar to screaming. katsuki’s shit-eating smirk only grew louder. the two of you were so engrossed in each other that you both didn’t notice the director yelling cut and the clapperboard being used to signal the end of a take. you didn’t even realize that you had strayed away from your directions.

“c’mon babygirl… cum on this cock fuck! wan’ you to make a mess of your oniichan. keep fuckin’ yourself back on me like that and daddy’ll paint your insides white ngh shit.” the mix of his thick dick, skilled fingers, and word choice making the fire burning in your belly to engulf your body in heat. clear liquid gushing from your pussy and warming katsuki’s pelvis and legs. he looked down just as the last bit of liquid shot out from your spent sex.

“oh god baby, YES,” he groaned deeply and continued thrusting into you, chasing his own release. he used your body ruthlessly, like an animal in desperate heat, “fuck baby… ‘m cummin’ ‘m cummin’ please god let me cum inside please please.”

you’d never heard the rough dom whimper before, but the sound was music to your still-ringing ears. you let out a “yes yes yes” to let him know it was okay to cum inside. with a few more sloppy, rough thrusts, he was spurting his white hot seed inside your perfect pussy. you were both out of breath, sweaty, and fucked out. he still wasn’t fucked out enough and managed to give your ass a few light slaps, still enamored with how it shook and jiggled. you collapsed inside the machine, legs drooping and letting your ass fall once he pulled out. you were trembling and so exhausted you could probably fall asleep inside this uncomfortable-ass dryer. ready to dream about the best dicking you’ve ever had in your goddamn life.

after you both got cleaned up and half-chewed out by the director for going off script and ‘ruining his shoot,’ it was time to finally relax and go home. your bathtub practically screaming your name from home. before that, though, you met katsuki in the stars only lounge.

he wore a muscle tank that showed off his beautiful body that he’d spent years sculpting in the gym and a pair of classic grey sweats that showed off the imprint of his half-chub, you assumed the viagra still hadn’t completely wore off.

“can you believe the fucker had the audacity to say we ruined his shitty video? if anything we made that half-assed shit better.” you could tell he was prideful of his work due to the emphasis he put on his words. you lightly laughed, watching him scroll on his phone to catch up with the world since you both weren’t allowed it for a few hours. you saw his strong hands tracing lazy circles on his thigh.

“we should’ve wrote that script, shown them how it’s really done. we’re the ones that know how to trend on the hub, anyways.” it was his turn to let out a laugh this time. you sat down next to him on the black couch, still eyeing his cock and fingers that you already wanted back inside you. your gawking not going unnoticed by the blonde.

“see somethin’ you like?” he looked at you through his eyelashes and smirked.

“hell yeah,” your eyes traced his body, admiring every curve and detail, “i think it’s quite unfair that you got to see this hot bod and all i got to see was the inside of a dryer.” he gave you an amused look and gestured down to his semi-hard cock.

“whaddya say about round two in my trailer?”

the company ended up using the video the two of you supposedly “ruined,” it was trending in the top ten for a month straight due to its ‘raw intensity’ and ‘believable passion.’

you and katsuki were now in high demand to work with each other, jobs that you never denied. :)

part two.

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catiuskaa · 1 year

Text

audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion, lmao. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun!

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone. Oh boy. "The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"This is getting old really quick, goddamnit." You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!"

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

He hung up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

"I uh, kinda, I guess."

"But never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

Before you could escape or come up with anything, he approached you and pecked your lips, feeling his heart skip ten beats when you pushed him away.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it. "What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. "Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away "Unless you don't want..."

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

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