#and then on top of that i have to pay even more for no ads??? to companies that make billions of dollars???
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Numbers Game ~ Part 13
Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader
Numbers Game Masterlist
Word Count: 5318
Ao3 Link
Summary: You get to work on party planning, but your disagreement about the budget leads to some uncomfortable questions.
Author's Note: I am unwell. If it wasn’t allergy season, I’d roll down a hill, and lie in the grass for a while 😅
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there), Bondage, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gangbang, Brat Handling, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Creampie, Large Cock, Cunnilingus, Punishment, Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Dom Mihawk, Dom Crocodile, Switch(?) Buggy, Death Threats, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
“If you’d listened to miss Y/N before, she might still be yours,” Crocodile scoffed, shoving Buggy into a chair at a small desk by the door, leaving him close, but not too close. “This is your one chance to prove you’re not a complete idiot. Don’t fuck it up.”
“You got it, boss,” Buggy chirped, sneaking a wink in your direction while you fought a smile.
“Here you are, darling,” Mihawk interrupted, setting your notebook in front of you, along with a transponder snail. “I trust that you’ll behave on your calls today? I’d hate to have to come up with some sort of punishment if you try to–”
“She won’t try anything, huh, sweetheart?” Crocodile rasped. Goosebumps crawled over your skin as the back of that golden hook lifted your chin, drawing your eyes to his. “You’re our girl now, right?”
“I am,” you agreed, breathless as the truth left your lips. He tugged on a bit of your hair, that look of ownership sending warmth through you.
I’m theirs.
Humming at the thought, you laid out your notes, and went to work.
~
“This event will be expensive,” you warned, adding to the list of items needed to throw a party fit for the pompous guests you knew too well. The guest list was small, but you knew it would grow as the clients you'd called today gossiped amongst their privileged circles, and you hadn't even made it through your list yet.
“I already sent Galdino to meet with the backer you secured. That should provide more than enough funding,” Mihawk noted, looking at you over the top of his book.
“Besides, they’re not here for caviar,” Crocodile huffed from his desk on the other side of the large room, “they’re here to pay for murder. I think that’ll be enough of a thrill for them.”
You cleared your throat, scribbling on the corner of a page.
“Do you disagree?”
How did he get here so fast?
Mihawk laughed at the little yelp you let out when Crocodile pulled the list from your shaky hands.
“They want a show,” Buggy’s head declared as it floated between you and the larger man, his jazz hands floating beside his face. He gave a quiet huff as Crocodile used the notebook to swat him away like a fly.
“I’ll listen to your recommendations, sweetheart. Tell me why you think I’m wrong.”
Mihawk joined him in front of your desk, the two of them towering over you while Buggy started pacing.
I wonder if I’ll ever stop being afraid of them. I wonder if that’s why I want to stay.
Shaking off the fear, and the flush to your cheeks, you straightened before answering with a steady voice.
“I’ve known most of these people for years. They want thrills, but only if they’ll be safe, and only if it’ll be good for their bank accounts in the long run. We need to convince them that they’ll gain more than they give by funding us.” You couldn’t read the emotions behind their sharp-eyed stares, but you pulled yourself through.
“We need to sell the product, and we need to be desirable. If we don’t look just as wealthy as they are, they won’t think we’re worth the air we breathe, let alone their precious berry,” you ended on a sharp note, swallowing a scowl.
Mihawk leaned over the desk, holding your jaw while he stared at the hint of a snarl on your lips.
“My sweet, little rabbit doesn't seem to think highly of her old clients. This entire plan relies on these wealthy contacts being loyal to you, Y/N. You didn’t exaggerate their trust in you, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” you breathed, your jaw clenching beneath his fingers. “As long as I keep being useful to them, they’ll keep pretending they care about me.”
Ice filled the room from the pressure of your words, nausea coiling in your stomach.
“I’m good at what I do,” you coughed, Mihawk's fingers letting you pull away while you took a breath. “They’ll listen to me, but we need to put on a show.”
“Good thing you’ve got the flashiest showman around,” Buggy crowed, floating pieces of him over your desk again, shielding you from the cold stares of the other men.
“Buzz off, clown,” Crocodile snapped, resting his hook on your desk with a low, metallic thunk. “Sweet girl, do you think we’re liars?”
“Wha– n-no. I didn’t–”
“Skittish, little rabbit,” Mihawk purred, shouldering past Buggy’s now solid form to trail a finger down your cheek. “Why would you ever need to worry? You have so many uses.”
“Don’t start with that shit, swordsman,” Crocodile growled, moving beside you to trap you between them.
“Didn’t you hear that hatred on her tongue, sandman? Aren’t you curious if our little rabbit carries that same venom for us?”
Buggy’s frantic eyes found yours around Mihawk’s side, but your golden-eyed lover returned his fingers to your jaw, pressing in.
“Do you hate us for using you, darling?”
He released your face at Crocodile’s looming threat, but his predator’s gaze still held you frozen.
A large hand across your shoulder blades relaxed you for just a moment, until that deep voice warmed your neck.
“Answer him, sweetheart.”
“Of course she doesn’t hate you, she’s–” Buggy started, going silent at the vicious glare Mihawk sent his way.
Tension grew with every second until you found your voice again.
“I don’t hate you. I want to be here,” you laughed, a strange joy moving through you as you shook yourself. “You threatened to kill me, but I still trust you more than I trust any of those leeches.”
Lightheadedness came in a wave, your body buzzing as you looked back and forth at their frightening faces.
Fuck. Why did I say all that? Why didn’t I keep it professional?
You let out a sigh of relief as Crocodile's hand rubbed up and down your spine, and Mihawk lifted your knuckles to his lips. That gentle kiss felt overpowering, and he hummed when a soft noise left your throat.
“I think that’s enough work for today, don’t you, Crocodile?”
“Why don’t we take our dinner in the banquet hall tonight,” he suggested, tapping his hook on a blank notepad on your desk. “You can show us how to prepare it for a party of leeches.”
“Or we could just enjoy all the new tables to fuck you on,” Mihawk laughed, pulling you out of the chair to carry you.
They bickered about who would be going first along the way, laughing at Buggy’s attempt to claim a turn.
“Go order the food,” Crocodile snorted, gesturing down the hall. “Stop being a fucking nuisance, and you might get to watch.”
You directed them to the large dining hall, giggling as Mihawk laid you across the head table. The room was already set up well, a small stage at one end, the head table stretched along a connecting wall, and round tables scattered across the floor. Once you had a more complete RSVP list, you’d be able to make a decent seating chart.
You propped yourself up on an elbow, your brow creasing a bit as you thought of which guests would need to feel extra special, and be seated the closest to your lovers.
“I’m amazed that little mind of yours can focus on work,” Mihawk teased, tapping his fingers against your forehead. You threw your head back with a moan as he snuck a hand up your skirt. He rubbed his knuckles over your clit through your panties, already damp from the feel of his skin while he’d carried you. “When this little cunt is always so fucking hungry.”
“Dinner is served,” Buggy interrupted your moan, crashing through the doors with a rolling cart of food, the sliver-domed covers glinting under the lights. The tray slammed into a chair as he stared between your spread legs, his hands flying to catch the wine bottle and glasses just in time.
“Too bad,” Mihawk sighed as he licked the taste of you off his fingers. “I was about to have dessert first.”
Too many conflicting feelings flowed through your mind while you ate in this opulent room, drifting you away from the conversation as visions of fake smiles and expensive clothes danced through the hall.
Gloved fingers on your knee snapped you back.
Buggy made a show of eating the last few bites off his plate, not meeting your gaze as your lips parted from his risky touch.
What are you doing?
So far your sweet clown had done nothing but try to protect you from these men, but now his fingers were teasing up your thigh under the table.
You wanted to let him, your mind starting to race through every possibility, every reaction.
Mihawk snatched that wayward hand from your lap before you had a chance to think, and you yelped when he slammed it on the table.
“We decide when our girl gets to play with her toys.”
“Right, of course,” Buggy squeaked, his ears going red while Mihawk crushed his hand against the wood. “Sorry, boss, I was just feeling handsy! Ha, w-won’t happen again!”
Buggy’s tense giggle at the word handsy tore a laugh from you, and he managed to steal his hand back while Mihawk stood, his chair scraping across the floor.
“Time for dessert,” he threatened, wicked fingers pulling you up by your hair. He dragged you away from the plates before tossing you on the edge of the table. Taking a seat between your legs, he gripped your ankles while you panted, trying to gain your bearings.
But you couldn’t gain your bearings, Crocodile’s lips crashing onto yours taking you over. He sat beside you, a satisfied noise leaving his throat at your desperate reaching for him.
“Since you’re feeling so handsy, why don’t you pin hers down?”
Buggy hesitated for a moment, but pulled up a chair on your other side before his floating hands pressed your wrists into the wooden table above your head. Even though this was exactly where you wanted to be, being restrained and surrounded on three sides had you resisting against his hold.
“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” Crocodile purred, tracing the side of his hook along your struggling arms, the barest scrape of the sharp point making you gasp.
“He’s right, such a tasty little rabbit in our trap,” Mihawk agreed, speeding your pulse as he pulled your panties down your legs. He dropped them onto Buggy’s lap, bringing a whimper from those painted lips. “Try not to come in your little pillowcase this time, and you might get to do more than hold her down.”
Buggy met your gaze, the need in his darkened eyes making your breath hitch.
He’s never looked at me like this before.
Your lovely clown, the Warlord of the Sea that had rescued you from your boring life. He'd taken you to new highs, given you more pleasure than you’d ever known. Before they came, he had looked at you like he wanted to eat you, to take you, to keep you.
But the look on his face when he watched these other men have their way with you was something else.
He fucking loves this.
Before you could smile at the thought, a wicked tongue dragged through your folds, circling around your clit before plunging inside you. You filled the air with Mihawk’s name as he devoured you, until Crocodile’s fingers muffled your moans, making you tear up while he smirked at your stuffed mouth.
“Do you mind? I prefer a little music with my meals.”
Mihawk smeared his face along your inner thigh, and you shivered at the feel of his wet facial hair teasing your skin. Crocodile huffed a laugh, but pulled his fingers out of your mouth. He lifted the fabric of your top, tearing more of the clothes that Buggy had bought for you into shreds before playing with your breasts.
So many sounds left your throat as they teased you, Buggy’s hands gripping hard while you writhed for them.
Predators toying with their prey.
“Please,” you begged, earning a laugh vibrating through your core as Mihawk kept going. You were already twitching before his long fingers entered you, Crocodile’s hook tracing dangerously down the side of your body.
“Fuck, Mihawk, I’m so–”
“Close,” he taunted, pulling away from you. Crocodile gave a disgruntled noise, but followed suit, taking his hand away from your chest. He left his hook though, the point resting lightly below your ribs while he looked toward the man between your legs.
“I think we were close to something earlier,” Mihawk continued, his fingers playing along your thighs while you squirmed with need. “Close to learning more about our precious numbers girl.”
The loss of that almost release had you whimpering, but his words fell over you like a weight.
“She’s been good, hawk-eyes. Don’t be so mean,” Crocodile smiled, brushing a bit of hair from your face.
“You know I’m going to make her scream, but my curiosity has been piqued. I just have to know,” he threatened, pressing his fingers into you. You moaned when he found that spot, but he tortured you, the touch too slow for relief. “Tell me, darling. Why do you carry such contempt for these wealthy clients of yours? You told us that your life was boring, but you snarled like a beast. Did we take in a monster instead of a sweet, little rabbit?”
He attacked you then, his free hand on your clit while his fingers brought you close again. You couldn’t answer through desperate moans, and the sobs that followed as he cut you off again.
“Please, sir. Please,” you choked out, shaking with need.
“Why do you hate them, Y/N?”
Your name on Mihawk’s lips always seemed to wake you, and you tried to calm your breathing before struggling for an answer.
“They’re terrible people,” you gasped, faltering at Crocodile’s low chuckle. “They don’t care about anything besides staying rich, and impressing the same circle of vapid families with how much berry they can waste on stupid, pretentious bullshit. They’re so fucking obsessed with status, they’d throw someone to the wolves just for the slim chance of their inbred blood marrying into the Celestial Dragons.”
Your body had forgotten its need, seething as the words raged through you. These were thoughts you fought to ignore, useless, meaningless thoughts that could do nothing but piss you off.
Buggy released one of your wrists, cradling your cheek as his thumb gently stroked back and forth. You looked away from the confusion and concern in his eyes, embarrassment filling you like bile.
As if he felt your shift, Mihawk lowered your legs, coming to sit on the table beside Crocodile, and you clamped your eyes shut against the force of their stares.
“I’m sorry–”
“Don’t be,” Crocodile rasped, rubbing his hand along your arm. “I’m glad my sweet girl has some fire in her.”
“I agree,” the swordsman interrupted as he laid his still-wet fingers on your side, “but this seems personal. Why do you hate them so much, pet. Tell the truth.”
“I just… I’ve been surrounded by these people for years. They trust me with their money, and their money comes with secrets. I see what they do with all the wealth I help them grow, and I see what they don’t do. But even with all that berry, and all that selfishness, they are still so fucking boring.”
A wicked laugh left your throat, and you found yourself smiling as you looked into three sets of eyes. You melted for them, letting the heat of your need for them pour from you.
“But you promised that I wouldn’t be bored with you,” your voice came out in a purr, and you relished as all three faces filled with hunger when you writhed for them.
Mihawk jutted forward to pinch your pouting lip, something new and dangerous flashing in his eyes.
“Are you trying to manipulate us,” he dared, tilting his head as he scanned your face. “Did you already forget who owns you?”
“No,” you gasped, lifting your neck as he tugged your lip further.
“Mihawk, back–”
“Can you believe what a dirty slut your sweet girl is,” he taunted, his free hand tracing up your thigh while you held your breath. “She just tried to use her body to distract us. You really loved being called a whore, didn’t you?”
You fell back when he released your lip, moaning as he yanked your hips toward the edge of the table. Your legs dangled off the side, and you tried to slide off to stand until he ordered Buggy to pin your wrists down again.
Buggy’s brows creased as he hesitated for a moment, a small line of worry etched into his face paint. Yet he obeyed, leaving you to glance up at Crocodile, imploring him for forgiveness that you weren’t sure you wanted. Your eyes fluttered closed when he leaned down, kissing your temple.
“It’s true, isn’t it,” he asked, his husky voice overwhelming you. The point of his hook ghosted across your chest, forcing you to slow your breathing. “I promised all you gotta do is tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of you, but you still don’t believe me? Manipulation is real fuckin' close to lying, brat.”
“P-please, I–”
“You’d better watch your fucking mouth,” he threatened, his hook pressing into the side of your neck. “You’re gonna take what we give you, and then you’re gonna tell us the truth. Don’t make me show you what I do to liars, girl.”
Nodding stretched your throat against that sharp point, so you whispered your compliance. He withdrew the threat as Mihawk’s evil laughter moved closer.
“I’m not so forgiving,” the other man smirked as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. You barely had time to meet his golden eyes before he shoved his cock into you, laughing through your screams.
“Using your body against me,” Mihawk scoffed as he grabbed at your chest, pinching one of your nipples while he pounded into you. “I’ll show you what it means to be used, rabbit. You get to be a real whore tonight.”
The acoustics in the banquet hall were incredible, your screams of pleasure flying through the room as you came on his brutal cock.
“What a spoiled little cunt. I wonder how many rounds you can take? Would you still like a turn, clown?”
Buggy coughed, looking up from the sight of your pussy taking all that abuse.
“Wha–”
“Did you ever call her a slut? Did you ever fuck her like the desperate whore she is right now?”
“No, I…”
“Mihawk–” Crocodile leaned in, pressing his hand down on your chest. The swordsman never stopped fucking you, and you had to fight to pay attention.
“She earned this, sandman, and I think we should give our toy a treat. He’s been so good at holding her down, and keeping his mouth shut while I ruin his pretty star’s pretty little cunt. Let me play. I know you’re enjoying it.”
“… Fine. Only because she deserves this punishment. You hear that, brat,” he rasped, grabbing your face to watch you wither under his silver glare. “You try something like this again, and I’ll let twisted hawkeye pick your punishment.”
He pushed away just as another orgasm was ripped from you, your body clenching around Mihawk’s while he dug his nails into your hips.
“Hardly a punishment. You’re nothing but a slutty little hole, aren’t you,” he jeered, rolling into you until your eyes rolled back. “Alright clown, if you still want to stick your dick into this comeslut, you need to follow my instructions. Do you still want to fuck her?”
Buggy looked down at you with wide eyes, and you couldn’t tell if he’d noticed your nod of consent as Mihawk slammed into you, but either way, he whispered, “yes.”
“Good toy,” Mihawk praised, his breath heavy as his thrusts started to stagger. “As soon as I’m done, you’re going to fuck my come into her. You’re going to call her a whore, and you’re going to fuck her like one. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Buggy rasped, squeezing your wrists twice before taking his hands back to undress. Crocodile caught both of your hands in his. His eyebrow lifted just a tad, and you closed your eyes, knowing a smile would be on your lips if you weren’t making so many ungodly noises.
Your safe word crossed your mind. All of your lovers knew it.
But you weren’t even close to needing it.
I’m such a slut.
You almost laughed to yourself, until you felt Mihawk start to twitch inside you.
“Look at my happy little whore. Just wait, darling. You’ll be crying soon enough,” he laughed before groaning, shoving his cock so fucking deep while he filled you. The heat of him made your eyes roll back, and you weren’t ready when they switched.
Buggy’s needy moan arched your back. The feel of him sinking into your messy cunt after everything that had happened felt insane, electric. You met his gaze, his blown out eyes hardly human as he followed Mihawk’s lead, fucking into you like an animal.
“Tell her what she is, toy,” Mihawk ordered softly, smirking at you over Buggy’s shoulder.
“You’re…” Buggy started, his head tilting back as his breath sped through him.
“You’d better not come before you tell her what a slut she is. And you’d better act like you mean it.”
Your sweet clown looked frantic as Mihawk’s dangerous fingers danced over his shoulders.
“You’re such a slut,” Buggy tried again, his soft voice making you moan. His bottom lip scraped through his teeth while he watched you react to him, and you cried out his name as he fucked you harder.
“You like this, don’t you,” he asked, voice gaining confidence with each word, with each thrust until you were screaming. “You like being a flashy little whore, huh? Like making me watch your pussy get fucking wrecked everyday?”
“Fuck, yes, Buggy, please.”
“Gods, Y/N, you feel so fucking good baby–…”
“She’s not good, she’s a dirty fucking hole to fill,” Mihawk growled, gripping Buggy’s hair while he whimpered. “Tell her what she is, and you can come inside her right now.”
“F-fuck, you’re a dirty slut. You filthy fucking whore. Fuck, I’m–”
That twitching, throbbing cock filled you and filled you, it felt like it just kept going. Just a few more of those desperate, overstimulated thrusts of his would have sent you over the edge again. You hadn’t even noticed when Mihawk took over pinning your wrists before Buggy was pulled away, and large, ringed fingers played in the mess he’d left.
Crocodile’s eyes burned into you as he scooped come out of your used cunt, rubbing it along his shaft before pressing the tip of him to your entrance. You squirmed away, stopping your movement too late.
“Get her on the floor, clown. I don’t wanna break the table giving this brat what she deserves.”
Your limbs were loose as the other man got you to the ground, spreading your legs for Crocodile as he lined himself up, grabbing your hip to hold you in place.
“This is nothing, sweetheart,” he threatened, bullying his massive cock into you, the other men’s come being forced out to make room. A satisfied hum vibrated through him at your pathetic little whimpers. “You need to know how fucking serious I am.”
“Okay,” you breathed, eyes stinging with tears as he shoved himself all the way in.
“If I ever find out you lied to me,” he growled, filling you again and again as he started thrusting, “you’re not gonna like the punishment you get. I don’t care how sweet, how pretty, or how fucking useful you are, you’re gonna be hurting. Do you understand me?”
“Y-yes,” you whined, the pain almost tipping to pleasure before he got mean, fucking you into the floor.
“Yes, what, brat?”
“Daddy, yes da–”
“Fuck,” he moaned, drowned out by your screams.
Crocodile didn’t stop, fucking you as your body shook, fucking you until your tongue hung loose, the hint of drool at the corner of your lips.
“I’m gonna fill this bratty little pussy up, then you’re gonna be a good girl and tell the truth, because we can do this all night. Are you gonna be a good girl, or are we gonna have to keep taking turns ‘til your pretty little cunt starts crying?”
“I’ll be good, daddy. So good–”
“Mm, just like that. Fuck, you take my come so well…”
He filled you impossibly full, come spilling down the sides of his cock onto your already sticky thighs. Then he left you empty, but not cold, sliding down your body to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.
“You really are smitten, aren’t you, Croc?”
Mihawk’s taunt sent tension through the larger man’s body, and you held your breath while those silver gray eyes poured over your features.
“We’ve got a good girl here,” he countered, brushing hair from your face. “As long as she’s not a liar.”
“Yes, yes,” the swordsman tutted, “let’s get our girl cleaned up so she can tell us all about that hatred in her heart.”
The afterglow dwindled quickly at those words, but soon Mihawk was wrapping you in a tablecloth, lifting you into his arms. He hummed again when you let your head rest against his shoulder, tilting his face to leave a kiss on the top of your head. That little touch brought all your relaxation back, even from the frightening man that held you.
Buggy snuck a quick kiss to your cheek while everyone got a turn under the hot water, and sleepiness hit you hard as Mihawk wrapped a towel around you. You’d watched him shave while the shower warmed up, and now you stood on the fluffy bath mat, swaying while you stared at him in the large mirror. Crocodile had left, and Buggy hovered near the door, but you were caught on the swordsman.
“What’s that?”
You stepped closer, but pulled your hand back before picking up the dark glass bottle he’d titled into his palm. Those unreadable golden eyes flicked to you while he dragged his fingers over his jaw, spreading that incredible smelling liquid through his facial hair.
“You tell me, bloodhound,” he smirked, holding his palm in front of your face.
“Fuck, that smells so good.”
“Of course it does,” he chuckled, “what do you think is in–”
“Play your sniffing game tomorrow,” Crocodile grumbled through the door. “If our girl doesn't tell us the truth, we're gonna have a second round, and I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”
“Better not make daddy angry,” Mihawk warned in a hushed voice, nibbling on your ear before pushing you toward the door. “Better not make me angry either, rabbit. You know I can read you like a book.”
Shivering, you moved past Buggy’s wide eyes, glad to have him there. Mihawk guided you to sit against the headboard while the three of them sat around the edges of the bed, surrounding you again.
Silence strangled you, and you were about to crawl out of your skin until they all started speaking at once. The others conceded, leaving Mihawk to lean forward, touching your ankle as he spoke.
“Tell us the real reason why you hate your wealthy clients, hate wealthy people in general? There’s something personal, and we need to know before you invite a whole slew of them to our lovely home. Can’t have you poisoning all the people who might give us berry now, can we?”
“I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks rich people are trash,” you laughed awkwardly, yelping as his long fingers dug into your skin. “I'm s-sorry, it's just a joke…”
“Answer the question,” Crocodile ordered. His voice was empty, leaving your mind to fill in the terrifying blanks of what he had in store for you if you failed him.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” you sighed, covering your face with your hands while you tried to pull your thoughts together. You opened your eyes to catch Buggy’s soft, worried smile, and you knew his hands would be comforting you right now if he thought they’d allow it.
“I grew up with money, alright,” you spilled out, sounding more annoyed than you’d meant to.
Dead silence was finally killed by Mihawk’s derisive laughter.
“No wonder she’s such a brat, Crocodile. We’ve got a spoiled, little rich girl on our hands.”
“Shut up!”
Clamping your hands over your mouth too late, your eyes darted between all of their shocked faces. Buggy’s head had lifted a couple of inches off his neck, as if the force of his eyebrows raising had pulled it into the air. You bit your lip hard to keep from releasing panicked laughter. Crocodile moved closer, mirroring Mihawk with his hand on your leg.
“Tell us why you’re angry,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb along your skin. “But you need to stop making us dig for it, sweetheart. I’m not known for my patience.”
Blinking away stupid tears before they could fall, you nodded, letting your head fall back against the headboard before trying to speak. When the words finally came, it was like an echo through an empty room, your eyes almost unfocused as you told the boring tale.
“Family was rich. I grew up in those circles with all the parties, and galas, and expectations. I didn’t like it then either. But my dad died…”
Emotion swelled through the emptiness, and you had to swallow it down to steady your voice again. One of Buggy’s hands flew to yours, and no one stopped you from holding it.
“We stopped being rich. All those friends and neighbors stopped seeing us as real people. Even the parts of my family that are still rich treated us… They wanted us to beg for their help. To roll over, and let them– Fuck!”
They were all frozen through your frustrated yell. Buggy’s hand floated anxiously at your side after you’d dropped it to throw your hands into the air, digging your nails into your palms as anger rocked you.
Why am I doing this? I’m such a fucking idiot.
Your scolding thoughts couldn’t stop the wave of rage as it pushed through you.
“I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about them. How badly are you gonna hurt me tonight if I don’t tell you anything else? Why don't I save you some time, because I will take a lot of punishment if we can just fucking drop it.”
The ringing in your ears seemed to last for hours until your labored breathing started to calm. Blue, gold, and silver eyes pierced through your body like vicious jewelry, clinging to your skin as you tried to disappear. You went unfocused again, staring vaguely toward the crown moulding as you awaited whatever pain they might inflict.
Almost at once, the three of them crawled forward, and you held your breath as they settled around you, their warm hands smoothing over your body. Mihawk and Crocodile brought their lips to your skin, Mihawk’s trailing down your neck while you twitched and whined. Crocodile kissed your temple before breathing along your ear.
“We promised to take care of you, Y/N. Want us to take care of somebody for you?”
“Hm,” you asked, a headache forming from the onslaught of emotions.
“You’re ours, little rabbit. If you'd like someone to die, all you have to do is point the way.”
“Just tell me who, sweetheart. Daddy’ll gut them for you.”
Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!
a/n: I honestly thought we'd never get to the reader's back story what with all the fuckin' 😅
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Part 14
Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
#cross guild smut#mihawk smut#sir crocodile smut#buggy smut#one piece smut#cross guild x reader#mihawk x reader#sir crocodile x reader#buggy x reader#crocodile x reader#reader insert#fem!reader#one piece x reader#x reader#one piece fanfic#buggy fanfiction#dracule mihawk x reader#smut#use of y/n#turtletaub fics
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Doin bad again folx
#might delete later I’m just wide awake and miserable#summer bill came out today and it’s $7100 not including housing which will be $2400#literally dunno how im gonna pay for that and my dad is. adding to the emotional turmoil of it all#not able to get a loan at least not before the bill is due#able to get aid luckily but again who knows when or how much#my bday is tomorrow and for months I’ve been like please just let my bday be a good day i need one#i need some hope. not that I haven’t had good experiences lately bc I have. but nothing that lasts#nothing i get to feel good about for more than a day before a new problem drops#I need to enjoy my birthday without feeling this deep dark dread and fear and fucking guilt and hopelessness#I have fun plans for today And tomorrow and I’m grateful but honestly stressed about that too#bc it’s gonna be a lot + bc of all I need to do outside of that#+ I don’t get to spend my bday w friends the way I want like I have one friend Maybe coming w me#my bday is supposed to feel celebratory and instead it feels like absolutely forcing some illusion of choice or joy in my life#on top of it all. the most peaceful I usually ever feel is in bed w my partner and now my body won’t even let me hold or be held by them#currently laying next to them not touching them so I at least don’t keep them up w how physically miserable I am rn#I’m literally always physically miserable at this point and it feels like spring is never gonna come and provide any relief#but it’s like can I at least be cozy w them. nope instead I’m wide awake facing various horrors#despite being permanently exhausted and falling asleep in class after 40 ounces of coffee#Im just. so fucking unhappy in life rn dude I don’t want life to be like this forever with the constant threat of it getting much worse#fucking shred of joy in this godforsaken world: the sleep noises they r making rn#mine#txt#vent post#suicidal ideation tw#<- cry for help
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i'm going to talk to myself morosely in the tags for a bit to see if i can unknot the brain parts, disregard.
#i am. so tired of money dude.#i have insane student debt but i don't have insane OTHER debt and it's still so overwhelming#when i say not insane i mean like <5k#it's still way more than i should because that two fucking months without health insurance really fucked me up#but i can get on top of it with how much im paying for rent and meds and utilities and car payments and car insurance#and having to eat#like im in a much much better place mental health wise than i was but i think maybe ive made a mistake#the ability to cancel my student loans is huge. it's huge and i'm essentially guaranteed that from multiple directions in about three years#but the interim? i knew it was gonna be tight and it's gonna be less tight at some point but the last three months have just been barely#hitting each paycheck not in the hole and having to make car payments late and having to rely on credit for unavoidable overdrafts and#idk what to do lmao#and if the smoke thing w the apartment stays this bad it's gonna continue to negatively impact my health and i literally cant afford to mov#even to somewhere cheaper#i cant afford the initial payments to do that even though it'll be better in the long run#im so stressed and it's negatively impacting my relationships and i cant put my brain into working through my stupid fucking issues because#all in doing is surviving#and it makes me so sad because there's already enough in the world without my adding to it#im just tired dude and it's gonna be another week and a half of just. clenching my jaw and not sleeping#idk what to do dude moving back here WASN'T a mistake but im sure hovering on the line of really really feeling like it was#.... good motivation to do my fucking taxes i guess. like. TOMORROW.#not sure that helped but at least it's not just a weird mass in my chest anymore#and my hand is still fucked up and im never gonna be able to pay to fix it at this rate lmao#at least one of them sort of works.
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anyway y'all should go play Jupiter Hell
#pikspeak#bideogaem rambling :)#jupiter hell is great i dont talk about it nearly enough#a little indie turn based rpg made bg doom fans that is absolutely fantastic#like i know i say that a lot but i really really mean it there is so much love and care put into this game#and even though its turn based it still plays fast as heck#which makes it great for when u wanna play doom but dont have the energy for quick reflexes#and its. good music. good environments. good gameplay. addictive#bought it on release day and in the ten months since i have probably put#....oh id guess well over 60 hours into it (number of hours counted on steam is 35 but thats innacurate bc most the time i just launch it s#traight from the game files and skip launching steam entirely. much faster.)#jus keep coming back to it.#been meaning to do more doodles for it too but. art hard sometimes#undoubtedly ranks in my top games list#and one of a very VERY select few games that has at some point made me think 'i didnt pay ENOUGH for this game; it is worth MORE money'#not to mention the devs are still actively updating it#polishing it up; fixing bugs; balancing features; even adding new content nearly a year after full release#oh oh very good voice acting too#there is only 1 character and his entire dialogue is just idle quips on like picking up weapons or#if u leave the game paused for a minute he'll yell at you to get back to it (turnbased doesnt mean IDLE; motherfluffer)#but its like a quarter of the games charm and he talks exactly how a doom space marine SHOULD talk#heckig. love mark. decided he is like. doomguys little brother. or maybe cousin.#anyway this game deserves so much more love especially from doom fans please go check it out
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Well, I just resigned from my job. I have to for my health, and when I talked with my boss she admitted the conditions were terrible and they made a lot of mistakes and nothing was okay. It went as well as it could've, and now I'm going to finish up my projects over the next week and focus on my health. It's going to be a tough road with the degree of muscle atrophy I've had 😅
#well it went better than expected#and she seemed to know it was coming but then again i was harassed for the past week#i cant believe she actually admitted they fucked up i mean duh yall have several lawsuits going on the union is in#and they never even got me the ramp/lip cover so i could never come in (and got penalized for that)#they decreased my wage several times bc they couldnt afford it and it was small already for the industry#i never got accommodations#i had three supervisors in three months#four people left before me and now me and a co-worker are leaving rn#and we were understaffed and overworked and the backend was a mess and she said i came into a hurricane and we did nothing to accommodate#like was agreed with who hired me but then that person left#they decreased my wage several times and changed my job description (not allowed) several times to add more work yet decreased wage#and i got penalized for not being able to do stuff i never signed up for that they added bc it was manual labor#and i said hey i could do that extra stuff with minimal accommodations but they ignored and decreased my wage again#while i was breaking my back and overworked as is#and then my new boss straight up admitted they were assholes on top of all that and she pushed me too far#i love the mission and wish them well but it was a mess and not a good fit#and im now even allowed to talk about the lawsuits and shit bc i signed a whistleblower agreement and it could doom them if the public knew#shit is AWFUL discrimination assult etc#and they tried to rope me into fundraising bc they werent paying my coworker and she had to fundraise for her own goddamn wages#the amount of rage i have at them...and she's quitting too#and like i didnt even say anything just a short and nice letter saying i resign and gave enough notice#and what projects i need to wrap up and transfer over#at least now im out of the shitty job and can focus on my health#i was worried about money but DVR Hannah my family my PT's and new doc support me and it will be okay#im actively interviewing while sick too#my PT's are making a plan to help me build my strength back up but it's going to be HARD bc of my condition#it's actually near impossible for my legs so wish me luck#im surprised they aren't blacklisting me either it went as well as it could've#wish me luck for recovery im going to need it 😅 (see last personal post for context)#p
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I think I will watch Top Gun Maverick on theaters tomorrow (for the 4th time 🫠 i am a clown). I am so excited, it will probably (super most likely) be the last time I will see it on the big screen. But tbh I thought last time would be the last so
#its prime video’s fault really#they were adding it to their platform this week but postponed to next month#and i will have to pay to watch it anyway so better do it and watch it as it should be watched right?#tom cruise fought tooth and nails to get in on theaters#who am i to not male the most of it#and help this movie get even more records lol#its been what??? 4 months??? and it is still in theathers… bitch#iamburdened talks#top gun maverick
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Work is destroying my sanity and I’ve barely been here 30 minutes
#everything is on fire 24/7 and it doesn’t have to be#I tell people how to fix things in simple terms and we fuck that up#I get an email w less than 24 hours notice that someone wants to do a cameras-on interview which I distinctly Do Not Like Doing#my office set up is not camera friendly rn and I would rather die#but on top of that it’s just like people complain we don’t have enough people so I modify hiring just enough to get people in the door#but now another team is upset bc somehow it didn’t get to them and they’re worried abt training not being done correctly#so which is it do we need people as desperately as we’re complaining we do or do we need to train people?#people are arguing and being dramatic and the stress is so unnecessary#I have never wanted to just quit more#I had to go home early yesterday bc I had a horrible migraine and now that I’m back at my desk I can already feel another one#this job doesn’t have to be this hard but everyone is making it hard#and third party people aka corporate or literal outside companies keep adding more and more and more to my plate#acknowledging that we’ve got a lot going on but can we do this or can we get this done or can we do xyz#and it’s stuff you can’t say no to#I am losing my mind and I don’t even know how to explain it in a way that would matter to anyone who could make something change#so I just. want to scream#I have to be here every fucking day of the week for so many hours and I only get two shitty days to recover from this place#even tho I got a generous raise I still don’t feel like they pay me enough for what I am dealing with rn
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"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"
by Mary McNamara
"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.
Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.
This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.
More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.
But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.
Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.
Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”
“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”
If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.
“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”
Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.
A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”
When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.
Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)
Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.
Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.
Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.
The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”
Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.
Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.
At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.
It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."
#sag-aftra strike#sag strike#fans4wga#writers guild strike#actors guild strike#union solidarity#wga strong#i stand with the wga#wga strike#writers strike
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"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch.
"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into his annual “anti-valentines day” rant.
Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.
Directly in front of Patrick.
As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school.
Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his.
He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.”
A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted.
Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list.
Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out.
"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder.
A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.
Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it.
"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once."
Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans.
If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…
That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day.
("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"
He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts.
"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”
Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first.
“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned.
"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.
Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"
Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit.
Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute.
Not in the way he used to.
"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer."
Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy.
Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry.
He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.
Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental.
“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.
Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well.
It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful.
“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.”
“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”
There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.
Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information.
“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )
"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present. “I bet none of you even enjoy it!”
"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”
Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.
Except his team had already proven they didn’t.
Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was.
They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.
He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted.
Emphasis on ‘if.’
Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much.
So said Carol, anyway.
"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!"
Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved.
Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)
Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.
Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore.
It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction.
Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself.
(Like that had ever been a good idea.)
“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!”
Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice.
Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it.
The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit?
It wasn’t Tommy’s style.
It was Hargrove’s.
(That was its own growing issue.
The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy.
How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to.
That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.”
Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.)
“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!”
Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards.
“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!”
Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control.
All he wanted to do was go home.
Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else.
He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.
…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve.
“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”
He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul.
“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.”
The world stopped.
This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off.
(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.)
Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him.
Just as the entire cafeteria was.
The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson.
With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done.
With his so called friends, with the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything.
He was over it.
If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it.
(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.)
“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it.
He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down.
“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.
“Shut up.” He snapped.
Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.
King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up.
“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”
“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him.
“For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”
Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.
He didn’t need to. Had never needed to.
“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”
In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball.
“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”
Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet.
Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time.
Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.
Presently?
He just felt tired.
“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.
The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them.
Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway.
Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.
“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks.
They were ignored.
Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up.
“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not fucking better than any of us!”
Steve didn’t even look back.
"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.”
Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight.
xXx
He didn’t want to go home.
Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.
Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.
All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang.
So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year.
Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new.
Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…
He did not.
It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday.
Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech.
So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered.
Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.
At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson.
Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned.
“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.”
Steve just stared at him.
“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.”
Or any day, for the foreseeable future.
“Yeah no--I, I got that. I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.”
“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time.
Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say.
“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.
Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track.
“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.”
He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately.
“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what.
Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into.
Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both.
Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed.
“I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere.
"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"
Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!”
Then immediately;
“Actually yes, but--”
Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough.
“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right."
“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either.
Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station.
"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions.
“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!”
“Tommy did what?”
Steve was promptly ignored.
(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.)
There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.)
“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.”
Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself.
“So here I am. Apologizing.”
A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.”
“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”
“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.” Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock.
It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down.
“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.”
Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least.
Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.
“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh.
“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.
“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie grinned.
“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.”
“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.
That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face.
“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”
“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.”
“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!”
“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening.
Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!”
Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face.
He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen.
“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.”
Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required.
“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?”
Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous.
“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.”
“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?”
He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response.
It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.
(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things.
One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg.
Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor.
“Steve.”
Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.
The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out.
Except--
“Not right now I’m thinking.” Steve told him absently.
Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing.
Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…
“The fuck? Steve--”
Steve shushed him.
That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up.
“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.
Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted.
“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.”
“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise.
“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.
That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.
“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his.
For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk.
“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that.
“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”
Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze.
Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat.
He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back.
“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…”
One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley.
In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing.
“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?”
Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly.
“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him.
Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. )
#DADDYS BACK#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#pre steddie to steddie#0o0 fanfics#be gentle with me I JUST got my computer back lmao#this was a warmup I finished out#Ive been writing at work on my lunches#yes I have been working on adopt a jock#and the third part of the holiday hellfire fic#I think I stared at that steddisy one once#maybe#IDK this whole ass month has been a blurr
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toji’s reaction to seeing you in short shorts/booty shorts around the house 🏃♀️
PAYBACK
a/n: sorry anon i didnt exactly like how this turned out but i still hope u enjoy !!!
wc: 2.1k
warnings: sorta crack-ish in the beginning, pleasure dom toji, soft dom toji, praise, toji is obsessed w/ you, kitchen sex, clothed sex, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, pussy slaps! (both w/ his hand and d!ck), fingering, clit stimulation, tit + ass fondling, unprotected sex, p → v penetration, creampie / breeding kink, brief aftercare, n*sfw under the cut
there were things that toji was good at holding back on, like telling you that you might’ve added a bit more garlic than butter for a garlic spread. he doesn’t tell you how your body heat warms him up fast and he desperately wants to pull away from you, but your slumbering state is so peaceful he would rather burn.
and then sometimes he wishes he would just bite the bullet (even if you were his baby), because you were currently getting back at him for giving you the silent treatment. if he could do it over a trivial thing, so could you. toji’s probably still mad about your guess in charades, where you couldn’t understand that he was telling you he was riding a tricycle and not a bicycle, that mere difference of wheels causing a major roadblock in your relationship.
it was by far the stupidest thing you’ve argued about (you assume he had a bad day, too), and you were willing to talk things out and tell him he could’ve just put up three fingers instead of pointing aggressively to an invisible tricycle, but he opts to glare at you and sigh instead. you can’t believe he’s getting this worked up over a game of charades too, so you tease him the only other way you know how to.
it hadn’t been that long since you talked, but you figured you’ll need to start on dinner soon, getting a sick idea in your head when you see the new booty shorts you had ordered laying on your bed. you definitely thought it would be better for another day, but life is short and toji is not, so you pull them on and they feel divine, remembering the content smile on your face when your boyfriend had offered to pay for them — a reward well received when you check out your ass in the full-length mirror and the way it shaped your lower half.
the evening carries on as usual, but you can feel his stare once you emerge from your room in one of his shirts and he thinks you aren’t wearing any pants until you’re pulling out saucepans and reaching for the spices in the top cupboard that his shirt rides up and he can see your plump fucking ass; he chokes on his water.
with your back turned, you stifle a little grin and continue with your chores as the shorts ride up with each walk from living room to kitchen, but it’s all under the guise of cleaning and setting the table, wiping aimlessly, too, at the coffee table in front of the TV where toji sat, even if you weren’t eating there. you feel eyes on you when you return to the kitchen and continue your torture, cooking up a storm and bending over while looking into the fridge, while pulling out the plates for dinner, while—
“those the shorts i bought you?” bingo. although you’re not quite ready to talk to him yet, you succumb with a curt nod. toji obviously isn’t satisfied with your answer, footsteps approaching to lean on the kitchen island as his eyes keep his gaze locked at your butt.
“gonna ignore me for the whole day, hm?” it seemed like toji had other plans, his larger hand trailing up your thighs to your ass before curling around your waist. he’s pressing his front against you, hips grinding slightly even though you know he wants to do anything but that. you’re not wearing underwear, either, so the sensation of his bulge against your cunt is a lovely feeling and it takes everything in you not to moan.
you have to bring yourself back to reality to turn off the stove that feels so far away, hands clutching onto the countertops as you chase the familiar drag of your sex against his but toji only tuts, landing a slap onto your ass. “dinner first, baby.”
bastard. you roll your eyes and groan, but you didn’t seem to catch his innuendo, so you’re yelping when he suddenly flips you around and tugs at your shorts, pulling it off of a leg so there’s space for him. while your hands are pushing at his shoulders, desperately wanting to uphold your pride of ignoring him, you know the cool air against your cunt and the sight of fushiguro toji on his knees is only making you wetter.
and toji just smirks, looking up at you like his revered deity and you jump again at his cold hands prying your thighs apart, bringing a leg to rest on his shoulder. toji looks in love with your pussy, seeing your hole clench around nothing as your eyes beg for him to do something, anything, but he only continues to tease, running his thumbs along your folds and just missing your clit.
“use your words, sweetheart.”
“need…” toji raises an eyebrow, cheek leaning casually against your thigh and he grins as he sees you fight your own pride like you don’t want his tongue and fingers on you. give it a little more and you’ll break, because through the silence of your shared home and your heavy breathing, the tension is so infuriating that you’re willing to push away that stupid game of charades to the back of your brain.
you hate how needy you sound, though. “i need your tongue… p-please, baby,” you plead and drag out the name, and in the stuffiness of the kitchen, you think toji, one of the strongest men you know, looks the fucking best when he’s smiling up at you with a wanton want behind his eyes. “wan’ you, toji, wan’ you to eat me out!”
“oh… of course, when you beg like that,” toji plants a kiss to your puffy clit and the simple gesture makes you whine, “how could i say no to my pretty baby?”
toji delves in like he’s never eaten before, licking a thick stripe up your pussy to collect your slick before lapping at your clit, garnering a loud moan that reverberates throughout the house. you wish you never called him out on his terrible acting skills from the start, one hand keeping your balance while the other tugs on his black hair. harder and harder.
toji groans at your impatience as he feels you spread your legs further, moans and whimpers filling his ears. one hand sneaks under his shirt and squeezes at your tits, the other hugging you closer to him, fondling your ass at the same time. your boyfriend takes in everything, from your pleasured expression to your contracting tummy and he can feel himself harden below him.
but you come first, you always come first and he makes it clear when he halts for a second and you whine at the lack of contact. “eyes here, baby.” toji calls out to you, slapping your cunt and you jolt at the feeling, although it’s not entirely unpleasant; your eyes flit down to him. the other grins again and slaps your pussy a few more times, the wetness of your sex making loud, obscene noises, “tell me how good i’m making you feel, yeah?”
you mewl as you nod as his fingers prod at your hole and you swear the sudden intrusion has your stomach turning. you’re clamping down on his fingers which sets a pace, buried right up to the ends of his fingers as his palm collects your slick. your lover continues to abuse your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking.
“o-ooh, shit! they’re so deep, tojiii!” the moans you let out were almost pornographic, breathless and needy with how good he was giving it to you, the familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up on you. his fingers keep a constant pace, stretching you out so well and the roughness of them feel so contrasting on your body, but you love it. “toji, i— fuck, i’m c-close!”
“taste so good, doll. c’mon, cum on my tongue.” the older man is ruined too, the heat of the kitchen getting to him with how the strands of his hair stick to his forehead, but more than that, he’s grinding into thin air, wanting any sort of relief for his hardening cock. “you taste like heaven, oh shit...”
“t-toji— i’m! oh, fuck, fuck fuck—!” it’s not long before you’re unravelling in his hold, legs trembling and incoherent babbles spilling from your lips as toji licks up your release leaving from your dripping, tight hole, sure to lap up every last drop. his emerald eyes hold yours as he cleans you up, body still twitching and shivering from the mind-blowing orgasm before he stands and removes his fingers, holding it to your lips.
“suck.” and you do, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around him like you would to his cock, free hand already making pulling down his sweatpants that has a little pre-cum leaking through it.
“up you go, darling,” toji mumbles, plopping you onto the counter with ease, and because he’s so tall, his pelvis perfectly lines up with yours. it’s probably also because you envisioned this happening, though, that you made sure to pick out a kitchen countertop with the proper height. he slaps the tip of his cock on your glistening pussy, an angry red from being neglected, groaning as your arousal provides lube with no problem.
“just so you know, i’m buying you more of those stupid shorts,” toji confesses before he pushes past your entrance, tip already stretching you so well that you laugh and moan at the same time, arms flying to encircle his neck to feel him closer. “f-fuck, baby… so tight, just for me…”
“’s all yours, toji,” you whimper softly, an unspoken look in your eyes that just says that i’m yours for you to use, “this pussy’s all y-yours— mmf—”
by then, he’s bottomed out, taking his time in filling you up inch by inch and your submission is reason enough for him to start rocking into you, hips faltering just a little by how warm and snug you felt that it has toji catching his breath. but he doesn’t hold back once you’re comfortable, bullying his cock into you at a faster pace into your pussy that sucks him in so well with each thrust.
“your tight, little pussy’s g’na make me cum faster than usual, pretty,” toji says with a breathless laugh, mouth tasting the sweat that lines your body as he kisses your neck.
“that’s— okay,” you choke out, pulling him away from the embrace and the sight that greets you takes your breath away. dark, lustful eyes trained on you and a stunning smile to match; you see your lover’s eyes soften ever so slightly when he hits that sweet spot in you, “i’ll take all— fuck- all of your cum, okay?”
and toji almost cums at that moment but he knows if he looks at you any longer and how your tongue lols out at how his cock fits so well in you, he just might; so he just settles for frantic nods, and nudges your head down to look at how his length moves in and out of you. your slick and his pre-cum is leaking all over the counter, squelching noises filling the kitchen. “look at how well you take me. good fuckin’ girl is what you are.”
you giggle at the praise because you know toji means every word, but your moans take over soon. there’s the twist of your core, that edging feeling that toji’s drawing out of you so well — it doesn’t help how he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing circles that you’re close, so close.
“toji, toji, toji—” chanting out his name is all you can do when you’re fucked silly, spilling over unexpectedly as you clamp down hard on his cock. toji groans when he feels you spasm over his length, hips not stopping even after you ride out your orgasm. you’re cumming so much that his stomach is wet, too, the pap! pap! pap! of his pelvis against your pussy sounding so filthy.
your babbles converge into three words, mumbling out i love yous to the older man and soon toji cums as well, swallowing your tearful confessions with a sloppy kiss and he’s releasing deep inside you. he can feel your mewls through the kiss, no doubt loving how his thick cum is spilling into you. his seed is hot, leaking from his tip in ropes and ropes until you’re filled to the brim and you sigh, content with how it feels in you.
your lazed hums make him chuckle, kissing you again and softer this time. “my baby, my sweet baby,” toji makes sure to wipe your eyes after, and mutters apologies against your forehead for the dinner turning cold, but when he sees you and your languid smile, he knows you don’t mind.
thirsts and drabble requests are open!
#anon#asks#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk headcanons#jjk fluff#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji smut#toji imagine#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji hcs#jjk drabbles#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin
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prompt: Ghost only takes you half-seriously when you say you want to see other people. He has just the man in mind.
tags: dubcon; threesome; anal (2.5k)
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He doesn’t so much as twitch when you stumble over your words in an effort to get it out.
“I don’t think this is working,” you say, hands clenched into trembling fists at your sides. “I think we should start seeing other people.”
The only bit of it that Ghost really pays attention to is the fact that you decided to make this little announcement while he’s in the middle of taking apart and cleaning his gun at the kitchen table. His little spitfire girl. Not a lick of fear in you, just a fistful of attitude and snark. The attitude’s ensconced now in your trepidation, a bit smothered under it, nervousness a clear trill in your voice, making it warble, but it shows itself in the downward slant of your brows. Delightful girl.
“That right?” he grunts, jamming the lubricated cotton mop into the bore of the gun. You flinch at the sudden movement, nervous eyes trained on his hands. Ghost makes a note to apologize with his mouth later on.
“Yes,” you croak, then cough to clear your throat. “I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think it’ll be better for—for both of us. It’s just…it’s not working out.”
The cigarette dangling from between his lips stinks up the room. Poor girl, he thinks pityingly when you scrunch up your nose and eye it resentfully. Always trying to get him to quit. It’s just shit luck for you that he’s never been good at quitting things, at letting anything go. Everything he’s ever lived through clings to his skin like smoke.
He ashes it out in the little turquoise ceramic pot on the table, a trinket he’d once picked up in Tala'a Kebira years ago while in Morocco on some other business. You look marginally less irked with the cig put out, but that just means that more of his attention can focus squarely on you, which leaves you a bit wide-eyed under his stare.
“For a while, hm?” Ghost asks. It comes out teasingly, if only to him. The lilt in his voice is a tricky one to catch.
You nod; the note must have slipped through your hands like smoke. “There’s a girl I found online that’s studying abroad right now. Offered to sublet me her room while I look for a place. I thought maybe, um…maybe tomorrow I’d go.”
“Don’t worry about all of that,” he says, already dismissing the conversation from his mind. “Won’t be back for another week anyway—no reason for you to run off if I’m not even around.”
“Oh.” You shift from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”
“A week. Two weeks tops.” Plenty of time for him to sort out this mess. Figure out what exactly caused you to get all jumpy and eager to try out other people.
He smiles internally. Little bird probably just can’t stand how often he’s away, poor thing. It’d be enough to make any girl upset—the constant leaves of absence, gone months without being able to send word, showing up bruised and bloody on the doorstep only to have you fall to pieces trying to put him back together.
There are options though. He’s not opposed to adding someone new either—in fact, he has just the man in mind.
Ghost has been holding Johnny back because he always thought you preferred to just be with one man (and Christ, the whining he’d had to deal with from Johnny, always begging to see you or begging Ghost for even just your panties, anything at all because he was so desperate and Ghost wouldn’t let him have you), but now?
Now there’s no reason to hold Johnny by the collar when he comes over for dinner. Now there’s no reason to kick Johnny from under the table when he leans just a bit too close to you when you’re sitting down to eat, eyes locked on the glimpse of your chest peeking out of your shirt and damn near drooling on it. Now there’s no reason to listen to Johnny jack himself off to the point of tears while trying to get some shut eye on a mission, the only crumpled up photo that Ghost had ever allowed him to take cupped close to his face.
He really pitied the poor mutt before, no pretty girl at home, his only crush being his superior’s girl. But Ghost is magnanimous—he’s a generous man. If you want to see other people, he has the perfect puppy for you to play with.
When you smile, still a bit unsure, he has to smother a grin. “Okay. I’ll stay ‘till then and look.”
The look Johnny gives him when he brings it up is equal parts disbelief and fevered need. “Say that again, Lt?”
“You’re coming over after we wrap this shit up. Bird’s been asking about a third.”
He chokes, scrambling to his feet. The temporary base is damp, always on the frigid side of things so Johnny’s still in uniform for the most part, the fabric rustling in his haste to get up off his bed. It’s not a place either of them are eager to spend more time in than absolutely necessary. The lack of space means that the two of them are made to bunk together as always, sharing a room with two cots and a small en suite, the tub still wet from Ghost’s shower.
“Christ, yer serious? No joke, sir?”
Johnny pushes his head back into Ghost’s hand when Ghost reels him by the hair, dropping a firm close-mouthed kiss onto the centre of his forehead through the fabric of the mask. “She was clear about it. Why? Gettin’ cold feet on me now?”
“No, sir,” Johnny protests, shaking his head as much as he can in Ghost’s grip, eyes shimmering a bit. “I can bring over a bottle o’ wine if ye like. Somethin’ fancy to set the mood.”
Their closeness is not unusual; Johnny’s always been a tactile man, favouring touch over words. One of their small similarities; their shared modes of existing in the world. There’s a line in the sand where you’re concerned that Ghost has been clear on, but he’s used to always having a hand somewhere on Soap, keeping him close. Now, he gets to keep him even closer.
His bird really has the best ideas.
Ghost snorts, knocks their heads together. “Just bring yourself, pup.”
He ignores the way Johnny’s breath hitches, the way he hurries into the bathroom and slams the door behind him the second Ghost lets go. The frantic eager sounds from behind the door when the water runs, only muffling the loudest of his groans. He probably had his dick choked in his fist the second the door shut, a thick nut swirling down the drain within the first five minutes.
They ship out the next morning, exhausted from the week’s work. No amount of sleep out in the field is ever good enough, especially not in cots barely built to accommodate men of their size. Especially not Ghost. Johnny dozes off on his shoulder in the plane, sinking into a deep sleep to compensate for the hours spent tossing and turning the night before. Ghost uses the flight to get a headstart on his paperwork, enough so that he’s not held up on base when they land back home.
He doesn’t give you a heads up that he’s home earlier than planned; no need to give you enough time to pack a bag and schlep it over to that place you’d found. It’s better for everyone if you’re caught a bit off guard, just a little frazzled. Ghost’s not entirely unsympathetic—he knows you’ll overthink things if he gives you any time to yourself.
It’s endearing the way you gape up at him, eyes flitting between him and Johnny, when he finally makes it home. For the few times that Johnny’s been over, it’s not an everyday thing; his visits are always planned and strictly timed, Ghost monitoring him to make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds. Seeing him with Ghost in your foyer must be strange, must put you on edge.
“Simon, you didn’t tell me you were—” you start and then pause, swallowing. You look over his shoulder at Johnny, smile stiff, uncomfortable. “Hi Johnny.”
You’re always a good girl, not wanting to argue in front of company.
“Heel,” Ghost says, steel in his voice when Johnny almost lurches from his side. The other man glances over at him with wild eyes, almost on the brink of disobeying, but he holds in the end and stays put. Ghost’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “Have a nice week, pet?”
“Yes—sorry, I’m glad you’re home safe,” you say, flustered, taking his back from him to drop in the usual place in the hall. “I, um—” again, you eye Johnny nervously, unsure of how much you can say in front of him, “—I found a place…for…you know.”
“‘Course,” Ghost agrees, shucking his boots at the door and giving Johnny a shake by his coat until he does the same. “Missed you too, pet. C’mere.”
He muffles your protests with his mouth when he stalks forward and pulls you in for a wet kiss, rolling the mask up and off at the same time. You’re a bit stiff in his arms until he slips you some tongue and the resistance leaks out of you, helpless the second he gets his hands on you. Your eyes are still a bit misty when he pulls away, fingers clutched in the collar of his shirt like a reflex. Second nature to cling to him. His chest puffs up at the gesture.
“Thought about what you said the other week, bird, and you’re right.”
You blink, coherence coming back to you, shaking your head to divest yourself of the momentary confusion. “I am?”
“‘Course. Smartest girl in the world, isn’t she, Johnny?” Ghost asks over his shoulder, slipping a hand into your hair at the same time to hold you in place. It makes you frown, his actions not mirroring his words.
“Aye, sir,” Johnny hums, nodding eagerly. Boots off, he stumbles forward, crowding around you from the other side, not realizing that they’ve backed you into a wall until it presses against you, trapping you in place. “Bonnie ‘n sharp as a whip. Always thought so, sir.”
“That’s right,” he agrees, tightening his fingers in your hair until you squeal, brows furrowing in that way they do when you’re right on the precipice of pain and relief. “Only a smart, brave girl would ask for what she needs. You’re just lonely when I’m away, isn’t that right, pet?”
“I’m—I’m what?” you splutter, hands planted on Ghost’s chest, trying to push him away to no avail. He hardly notices it.
“Go on, Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. “Since she asked so nicely. Give her a kiss.”
That’s all his mutt needs to hear.
You huff and puff with the strain it takes to take Ghost’s cock after a week and a half away.
You’re always tighter when he comes back, an effort to work you up to taking him again; he lets Johnny get you prepped this time, slobbering all over your pussy in his eagerness, plugging you with three fingers before you’re even close to ready. He gets off on the way you howl, rutting his cock into the sheets of your bed while he keeps you pinned by a thick arm over your stomach.
Ghost has to scruff him after that. He takes over, running a soothing tongue over where it hurts until you cry big, fat tears and come a couple times. He makes sure you’re taken care of before it gets tough. You’re mindless by the time he moves off you to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer, only coming back to yourself when he turns you over onto your belly and spreads the cheeks of your ass. It unwinds something in his chest to hear you yelp when he pushes a finger into your ass, like coming home.
This is why he does what he does: to get this when the job is done.
It’s not often he gets to do this, usually too big for you to take comfortably in your ass. Johnny’s not that much smaller, in fairness, so he works you up to two and then three fingers before lying down on the bed and pulling you over him. Your legs tremble when you straddle him, fingers digging into his chest when he lowers you onto his cock for the first time in a week.
“There we go,” he says, grunting when you pull his chest hair a little. “That’s a good girl. We just about done crying now?”
Ghost smiles when you shake your head stubbornly, eyes still filled with tears. “This isn’t what I meant, Simon.”
“You can cuss me out when Johnny’s done, alright? That make you happy?”
He almost chuckles when Johnny clambers back onto the bed in his haste to get his hands back on you, his pants still hanging off an ankle until he gives it a shake once his palms fit over your waist.
“Slowly, pup,” Ghost cautions, reaching around to spread a cheek. He coos when you flinch, whispering for you to relax.
Johnny’s eyes roll back into his head when he pushes in, hips stuttering forward until Ghost snarls and he stops, letting out a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down. Even for Ghost, it’s intense; you tighten around him when Johnny pushes in, only letting up when he cups your cheek and draws you down for a kiss, loosening you up with his tongue.
“Sir, I can—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Johnny whines, back curving when he drops his head. “She’s so fuckin’ tight, I can—swear I can feel you, sir.”
He’s not wrong. Ghost swears he can feel it himself, Johnny’s cock in his pretty bird’s ass while his is stuffed deep in your cunt. You pant through the stretch, words half-croaked out, unintelligible. It’s better that way. He loves listening to you sing, but you’ve been in a right mood these past couple of weeks. Just needed a good lay to sort you out.
“Simon,” Johnny begs, thrusting forward until he bottoms out in you, making your pulse skyrocket. “I cannae breathe.”
“Yes, you can,” Ghost says dismissively, wiping at the drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Give ‘er a sec and then you can move.”
“So, so, so hot. ‘M gonna come—”
He reaches behind you to wrap a hand around Johnny’s throat, giving it a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes bulge. “You don’t get to come until she does, pup. That’s all the time, got it?”
He doesn’t pay any mind to how Johnny nods and mumbles his little yes, sirs after that—he’s a grown man, maybe not as grown as Ghost, but man enough to compose himself until you stop trembling and sweating so hard.
It’d been a mite difficult to wrangle you into bed. He understands. He’d let you talk yourself red in the face about this not being what you meant by ‘seeing other people’, but Ghost hears the said and the unsaid. You wouldn’t be still in his house a whole week later if you really wanted to leave.
“Alright, pet,” he grins, running his thumb over your bottom lip until it drops open and you let him run it over your teeth. “Hang on now.”
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley#cod simon riley#soap mactavish#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost/reader#ghost/soap/reader#ghoap x reader
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I've seen a lot of posts welcoming new Tumblr users, but I haven't seen any welcoming old users BACK. So, if you're returning, here's some fun new stuff Tumblr has added. Some of this may be desktop only right now, but Tumblr has been very good about migrating features to mobile without too much delay. I'm also primarily a desktop user, so some buttons may be in different spots on mobile.
You can now turn off reblogs on your posts, even the old ones. Click on the little gear icon at the top of the post window and towards the bottom to set reblogs to "anyone" or "no one."
You can have up to 30 images in a post now! Just be sure to be respectful and tag it as a long post.
Speaking of long posts, you can now set tumblr to automatically shorten anything over a certain length. It's under Settings>Dashboard.
Tumblr now has content labels, which is what has allowed them to bring back mature content art. These are important, so please use them. You can turn them on on each post individually by clicking the "everyone" drop down next to the "post now" button. And you can control how your dashboard shows or doesn't show labeled posts by going to Settings>Account.
You can now filter tags and post content via tumblr itself without using something like XKit! This is also under Settings>Account.
Tumblr offers an ad-free subscription now. $40 a year. If you love this little hellsite, this is a great way to show support!
Tumblr also allows users to pay to turn their posts into ads now. It's called blazing a post. It is great fun and generally hilarious. You have no control over your audience. You're just yeeting your post, of any sort, not just advertising, off into the void. An ad-free subscription hides these posts, but you can in fact turn blazed posts specifically back on while blocking the rest of the ads. Blaze a post by clicking on the little flame icon at the bottom. You can only blaze your own posts.
You can buy fun little tchotchkys for your dashboard and, sometimes, the dashboards of others. Right now we've got crabs, a horse that shits everywhere, and the super special double blue checkmarks. These are just fun little things to play with.
You can now enable tipping on your blog/individual posts. Totally optional, of course, but can be useful if you're a creator.
Staff has been a lot more active this last year, so if you want to keep up with what is going on be sure to follow @staff, @changes, and @wip.
That's all I can think of. Everyone else is free to add to this!
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Pairing: roommate! San x f! yn
Word Count: 10,664
Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut
Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, f2l au, college au, M for mature audiences
Summary: As the resident fuckboy San's best friend, you're legally obligated to be his hype man. It's only fitting as you're one of the few who can resist his boyish charms. But when he's set his sights on someone you cannot stand, perhaps you need to dig a bit deeper into your feelings after all.
Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), voyeurism, sexual fantasies, oral (f), missionary, protected sex, very slight breast play, overstimulation, cowgirl, some cumplay, dirty dirty talk, fingering, slight body worship ig?, praise, I literally have no idea I wrote it at a time when I should've been in bed so lmk if I missed anything
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this is for the jackson wang party fic collab finished with @mingsolo (hella good) @flurrys-creativity (Pygalgia, Effervescent, and Abience) and @sanjoongie (trouble) <3 I still have one more to go but we'll ignore that LMAOOOOO I added too much plot :') flurry was a dear and helped me sort out my thoughts and I managed to write 8k of it in one day lol.
hope u all enjoy and sorry I'm a professional yapper there's no shutting me up
“Going out again?” you ask your best friend and flatmate, San, as he walks past where you’re seated at the kitchen counter, suffering through your essays.
“Yep,” San answers easily, popping the ‘p’ and leaning over to take a peek at your laptop screen. “You misspelt ‘dextrorotatory’, you wrote it as ‘dexrotatory’.”
As your eyes find the typo, you groan and plant your head on the table. “I give up,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll drop out and become a taxi driver.”
San laughs. “First of all, you can’t drive that well. Second of all, you’d make more money as a stripper.” He dodges your smack with ease. “Third, you’re smart and you’ll ace these like always. You’re just a little mentally constipated. Why don’t you join me tonight?”
You think about it for a minute. While you probably do need a break from staring at your laptop, you know how wild the parties San goes to can get from personal experience. And you don’t think it’s a good idea when it's the end of your semester and the final year of your master's program. You just can’t afford to do that. “I’ll pass this time,” you sigh. “Maybe after exam season.”
San hums. “All right. Make sure to take a break, though,” he reminds you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. “See you later.”
He soon disappears out of the door and you turn your focus away from your best friend to your homework. You feel bad for whoever his new conquest will be at the party.
In your opinion, it’s best to keep San at arm’s length when it comes to a romantic relationship. Not that you like him, but you also don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost, and you most certainly do not want to ruin your eight-year-long friendship. It’s not hard to see that San isn’t interested in a long relationship, not right now at least.
You honestly find it amusing that so many girls and guys still throw themselves at him and then get upset when he doesn’t give them a second glance after the initial night. His reputation precedes him, especially in your small town, and yet there will always be a line out the door for him. You don’t even know how he knows so many people.
With a sigh, you clear out your thoughts and refocus on your organic chemistry work. You’re lucky your job offered to pay for your master's classes, but the workload is killing you inside. You’re incredibly happy you’re almost done, and with newfound motivation, you hunker down and start writing out your notes again.
It’s almost two in the morning when you finally yawn and start putting your books away, and it’s almost three when you hear the front door open and the sound of San stumbling into the shoe rack as he always does. “You’re home already, Sanah?”
“YN!” San stumbles his way into the bathroom where you’re combing your hair, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his flushed face into your neck. “You’re still up?”
You laugh, tapping him on the head with your brush. “Yes, but I’m about to go to bed. And you should too, you know.”
San groans, his hold on your waist tightening and his words slurring together. “I don’t wanna,” he whines, “the bed's too cold.”
You sigh fondly. This happens almost every time he drinks, and usually, that’s why he doesn’t drink too much when he’s by himself. He gets too cuddly with people and you’re usually the one to keep him from bedding everyone he sees. You suppose he somehow didn’t end up with anyone in bed and he’s disappointed now. “Do you think you’ll ever ask to sleep with me nicely, or will you just settle for wrestle-cuddling me into my own bed?” you ask, rolling your eyes as San does not answer, just pulling you towards your room. “There’s my answer.”
You’re too used to his drunk antics and just let him move you around. It’s comforting in a way, that he’s comfortable enough around you to do this with you, and it makes your heart warm whenever he throws his arm around you and presses his face in your neck.
You’d never admit it, but it’s nights like this when you sleep the best. With his warm breath tickling your neck, you let your body relax and your eyes flutter shut.
-
“God, I’ve got a raging headache,” San groans when he sees you enter the kitchen with a mess of bed hair. “I went so crazy with the soju last night, I think I’m going to die.”
You laugh, reaching for the pot to make some oatmeal for him. “Don’t be so dramatic. Why did you even drink so much anyway? No bitches?”
San snorts but immediately whines from the sharp pain that probably shot through his skull. “You’re so mean to me! No, I got no bitches, but that was from my own choice anyway. I don’t want to fuck around anymore.”
Both your eyebrows raise into your hairline. “No? What changed things, hm? Finally decided your one true love is Byeol?” As if on cue, your shared cat meows and curls around your ankles, and you bend down to scratch behind her ears.
“Never had to decide that, we all know she’s the real number one in my life. No, I think I’m interested in someone.” You stop your petting of Byeol, who meows in protest and runs off to pout somewhere. “Come on, don’t act like you just saw a ghost.”
“Who?” is the only question that comes out of your mouth. Of course, San has had a crush before, but he’s never stopped screwing around unless he was actively dating that person. He’s a fuckboy, but he’s not a piece of shit at least. This is new.
“Lee Yeseul. I met her yesterday at the party, and she’s so sweet. She was so out of place at the party, and not in a mean way. She just…has such an aura around her.” San’s voice is soft even just talking about her and you get the feeling he’s being serious. “We’re meeting up for coffee today.”
“That’s…amazing, Sanah. I really hope it goes well for you,” you smile at him, pushing a bowl of oatmeal over to him. “Don’t forget to let me make a speech at your wedding.”
San chuckles, rolling his eyes at your jokes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have study group today? Go there and stop bothering me.”
You ruffle his messy hair before planting a kiss on it and pinching his cheek. He blindly reaches around to smack at you but you dodge him easily, laughing as you head out to grab your keys. “See you later, Sanah. Have a good da-ate.”
San grumbles at you but ultimately returns to his food. You think you can hear him muttering about you being a pain in the ass and you smile to yourself. You don’t have the heart to tell him you know Lee Yeseul…and she’s a major bitch. You sincerely hope she’s sweet to San at least—he deserves the best. But you find her absolutely draining, especially with how often she talks about herself and doesn’t pay attention to anyone else ever. If she cries in your class one more time you think you might smack her yourself.
You still remember the time you had gotten a call that your grandfather had died, and after overhearing your conversation, instead of comforting you, she started talking about how “so many of my family members died in the past ten years.” Sure, maybe she was trying, but you’ve known about her antics enough that it was clear she just wanted to make it about her.
But if San likes her, who are you to interfere? He has a pretty good eye for who has a good personality so maybe Yeseul has changed. You’re not one to stop him. Not that you ever could. When he first started going out to party, you would tag along to make sure he wouldn’t make any bad decisions, but your efforts seldom paid off. You’re pretty sure he must be blessed since he somehow hadn’t pissed off anyone majorly enough to have them call a hit on him.
Shaking your head, you rid yourself of these thoughts and go to the library. There’s no use dwelling on it, the more you think about it, the worse your feeling about his crush on Yeseul gets. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t need you to parent him.
“Woah, who pissed in your cereal?” You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to hide your bad mood from your study buddy, Hongjoong. Although you only see him for studying, you’re confident enough to call him your closest friend other than San. “Are you okay?”
You sigh, dropping your books on the table. It earns you a harsh ‘shh’ from the librarian which you apologise half-heartedly for. “Do you remember Yeseul? Lee Yeseul?”
Hongjoong’s brows raise high into his hairline. “The professional bitcher? What did she do now?”
“San’s into her, and with her personality, she’s probably loving the attention from the professional heartbreaker.” You groan, glaring at the cover of your organic chemistry textbook. “It’s none of my business if he cares for her, but damn, I wish he could’ve picked anyone else.”
Hongjoong hums, leaning forward and poking at the top of your head. “Look, you’ve been his friend for years. I think you have a bit more of a reason to poke your nose into his business than most. Give it a few weeks, and if it truly bothers you, then you can bring it up to San.”
You sigh. “Maybe.” You say nothing else on the topic and Hongjoong knows not to broach it anymore. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so smart.
-
“YN, I didn’t know you knew Yeseul!” is the first thing San says to you one week after he returns from one of his many dates with her. “When I mentioned you being my roommate she told me you were in the same class as her.”
You wince to yourself as you take a long swig of your coffee. “Mmh, I didn’t think it was that relevant,” you say. You can practically hear Hongjoong rolling his eyes at your excuse. You know you should tell him your qualms about Yeseul, especially since the gross feeling in your gut has only gotten stronger. But you’re not sure you want to tread those waters. San’s sweet, but he’s loyal to a fault and probably wouldn’t like you talking badly about Yeseul.
San narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious but not willing to pry. “Well, maybe if we ever find you a date, we can go on a double date.” He moves on pretty quickly, though, walking over to lean over your shoulder and look at your laptop. “Still going on that paper?”
You hum, cracking your knuckles. “Yeah, it’s due tomorrow so I need to pump it out today and then get Hongjoong to look it over.” You lean back, letting your head rest on San’s torso as you yawn. “I can’t wait for this to be over so that I can graduate already.”
San laughs, leaning down to rest his chin on your head. “You’re smart. You can do this. And when you’re done, I’ll take you to a party and we can celebrate.”
You groan, shifting forward and putting your hands back on the keyboard. “Well, in that case, I should get back to writing this.” As you start typing again, you hear the buzzer ring and the warmth of San’s body leaves you as he goes to check who it is.
“Oh, hey, Yeseul! Come on up!” Your eyebrows raise into your hairline and your head snaps up. Why would Yeseul go to all this trouble of coming here? Didn’t they just see each other?
You close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths before facing the dragon herself. You can hear the tell-tale sound of her voice pitched up to sound more sweet, although it’s grown to be grating on your ears. “Hi, Sannie,” she purrs and you have to refrain from retching. “I was on my way home but I realised it went right by your apartment so I figured I could come say hi. It doesn’t look like you’re too busy, right?”
“No, not at all,” San replies, and you hate how sweetly he talks to her. “YN is in too, she’s writing her final paper. Wanna say hi? She could probably use the distraction.”
No, I don’t need the distraction, is what you want to scream out, but your mother did not raise you like that although you wish she did. Instead, you just smile politely at the girl entering your kitchen. “Hello, Yeseul. Good to see you again.”
“Hey, YNie!” Her cheery nickname for you has your eye twitching. “How’s the paper going? I finished mine a few weeks ago so I’m home free. Just need to submit it.”
“That’s great, Yeseul,” you say, tone slightly more monotonous than you wanted it to be and San shoots you a look. “Hopefully you get a good grade on it.”
“Hey, would you want to join us for dinner?” San cuts in and you can already feel a headache starting to pulse behind your eyes. “I was going to order pizza since it’s my turn today and I’m not nearly as good of a cook as YN.”
“Oh, that would be lovely! I don’t mind whatever toppings,” Yeseul claps happily. The urge to punch her in the face increases bit by bit for you. San nods happily, stepping out into the living room to place the call. After a moment, Yeseul turns to you with puppy eyes and you brace yourself for whatever she has up her sleeve. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water, YNie?”
You try your best to keep your composure as you get up to fetch her a glass of water. She takes it without even a thank you and you decide you’d much rather die than deal with her any longer so you close your laptop with a sigh. “I’m actually meeting with a friend for dinner, but you definitely should stay and have fun,” you say, smiling as plausibly as you can. You do not have dinner plans but you’re sure you can figure it out.
When you go into your room, you’re drawing blanks. You’re still going out, but you’ll probably just end up calling a friend to complain. As you leave the room and grab your keys, San meets eyes with you and frowns. “Where are you going?”
“Ah, I promised to have dinner with a friend so I’m heading out. Enjoy your time with Yeseul, though.”
The furrow between San’s brows deepens. “But I already ordered the pizza.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “I can bring the leftovers tomorrow for lunch. Sorry, I just forgot to tell you, but I really have to go now. Bye!” Before he can say goodbye as well, you slip out the door. The suffocating feeling that is encompassing you lifts and you sigh in relief, but then you somehow feel worse at the idea of San and Yeseul having fun and giggling and cuddling.
You shake your head again, trying to clear your muddled thoughts before setting down to go find your dinner. Fast food was the easiest option, and you figured you could at least sit in your car and wallow in self-pity.
-
After you receive your order you park and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t want to call your family because as much as you love them, they can be a bit over-protective and probably will offer to help you find a different apartment and that would be a bit dramatic. In the end, Hongjoong is probably the next best option.
He doesn't pick up immediately, and you’re just about to hang up when the phone crackles and Hongjoong’s voice comes through. “Why are you calling me?”
You can’t help but bark out a laugh at his disgruntled tone. “Hongjoong, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour to call, don’t blame me for your shit sleeping schedule. Are you actually free though?”
Hongjoong sighs and if you focus you can hear the sound of him rolling over in bed. “What’s up?”
“It’s about Yeseul again. She came around today, and it was just…so suffocating. Like, why did San have to pick her? There’s so many girls, and out of them all he picks her? The most bitchy one I know?”
Hongjoong hums. “Why does it annoy you so much?”
You groan, leaning your head back and taking a long sip of your drink. “She’s self-centred, bitchy, and she’s just so fake. I don’t think this relationship will end well, Joong. Clearly he’s just blinded and she’s so manipulative.”
“But why are you so bothered by this specifically? I mean, sure we’ve had bad interactions with Yeseul, but you’re pretty nonchalant about the shit San gets up to and you like to let him deal with the consequences himself.”
You frown glaring at the phone although you know he can’t see it and you pop a fry into your mouth. “I don’t know. It just feels different. I feel like I should interfere this time. I mean, he’s a lot more serious this go around.”
Hongjoong hums, rolling once again as he yawns. “YN, be totally honest with me. This is a shot in the dark, but I think this is pretty important.” You hold your breath in anticipation. “Do you like San?”
“Oh sure, he’s a good friend–”
“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” You bite your lip, stiffening in your chair. “YN, you need to be honest with yourself. The way you talk about San, you interact with him, it’s not how just roommates, just friends interact. You kiss each other's heads, YN. And it can be platonic, but I’ve rarely seen San do that to his female friends, and I’ve never seen you do that, period. You don’t even kiss me.” His voice turns teasing on the last bit but you’re too shocked to register.
Do you like San? You love him like a friend, of course. But when you think about him being with anyone else, even if it wasn’t Yeseul, something in you aches. When you think about San’s smile being directed to anyone else, you can feel a burning in your gut. The answer is clear, whether you like it or not.
“I…yes. I do.” The confession comes out quietly. “But I don’t want to do anything about it. Like you said, it’s up to San whether he likes Yeseul enough. I can’t interfere.”
You can practically hear the look Hongjoong would be levelling at you. “Why not?”
You shrug. “When San likes someone, nothing can stop him from liking someone unless he wants to. I’ll just let it run its course and hopefully my own feelings will vanish in the process.”
“That doesn’t sound very healthy, YN.”
You let out a despondent laugh. “Sure, probably not. But who knows? Maybe I can find someone else in the process.” You let out a sigh before glancing at your now-cold sandwich. “I gotta head out, but thanks for talking, Joong. I’ll see you in class.”
Hongjoong can barely say goodbye before you hang up the phone and lean back. This is going to be difficult. The more you see Yeseul, the more you know you’ll accidentally slip up and something will tip her and San off. Your headache is pulsing behind your eyes and you take a small bite of your sandwich, your appetite diminishing. You miss being a child and your biggest worry is that San sneezed on your lollipop.
With another groan, you wrap up the sandwich and just go for a late-night drive instead to clear your head. It’s something that has never failed to calm you down and keep your mind level. San always berates you for driving alone at night, but you’d like to say you’re pretty safe. Plus, even he has agreed that it’s pretty calming when—you frown, forcing thoughts of San to leave your brain.
You don’t really know how long you’ve been out, but it’s surely long enough that Yeseul has left. As you carefully open the door, there’s a long silence, and you sigh, happy you made it home free. But as you’re about to call out for San, you hear a high-pitched moan come from his bedroom. And it certainly is not San.
You almost turn tail and head right back out of the apartment when you hear San’s reverberating moans fill the house. Against your better judgment, you take off your shoes and step closer towards his bedroom. His bedroom door is cracked open and curse him for putting his mirror right in view where you can see him leaning back on his bed, his lower half hidden off the edge of it and you can only see Yeseul’s knees.
And in your head, you know it’s wrong. But your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel heat building in your core. And, well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. You keep yourself pressed against the wall, staring at the way the muscles in San’s neck strain and the way he moans with every snap of his hips. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. The taste of copper enters your mouth but you couldn’t care less.
It’s only when San sits up, probably to fuck into Yeseul better and he disappears from the mirror that you rip yourself away and escape into your own room. Not another thought enters your brain as you strip your leggings and underwear off, flopping on your bed and closing your eyes as you let your hand trail down to press against your slick pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to sink your fingers into your sopping cunt, turning your head to bury your face into your pillow.
The guilt in the back of your mind is quickly sent away as you imagine San’s hands fucking you instead. He’s always had well-worn hands, and your brain fogs up as you imagine him leaning forward to mouth at your neck as he fucks you.
Your brain flips back and forth between the idea of him eating you out so well and fucking so many loads into you with his thick cock that your stomach swells and you whimper into your pillow as your core tightens and you come onto your fingers. You feel tears prick your eyes as you get up to wipe your hands of the cream coating your fingers and toss the tissue in the trash. You’re not sure how you’ll be able to face San or Yeseul again after that.
You can feel the shame burning inside of you and you close your eyes and cry yourself to sleep silently.
-
Waking up is disorienting, your eyes red-rimmed and your bottom lip raw and blood dried on it. You feel like death and you’re pretty sure you can’t attend class like this. You lean over and grab your phone, yawning as you send your professor a text with a weak excuse. You don’t really care how plausible it is, Professor Jeong usually is quite understanding so you don’t worry about that for too long. San had texted you an hour ago, asking if you had come home, and you choose not to answer it.
You can hear mumbling in the other room, probably Yeseul and San sharing goodbyes, when you hear the door shut behind her. Unlike you, she’s probably happy to go to class and tell all her friends about her night with the campus fuckboy.
It takes another thirty minutes for you to finally roll out of bed and put some lotion on your face, hoping for the traces of the questionable night you had to erase from your face. Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you venture out into your living room where San is standing by the door. “When did you get back?” he asks without even turning around. “I texted you like, an hour ago.”
You shrug, avoiding his eyes as you move into the kitchen to find breakfast. “I only just woke up, San.”
Your roommate gives a short huff, following close behind you. “Don’t you have class? Yeseul just left so you could walk with her.”
You try not to roll your eyes at the idea of that. “I’m not feeling well so I don’t think I’ll go.”
“You’re not feeling well?” San’s voice deepens in concern and as you grab a yoghurt, he places his hand atop your forehead. “You are feeling pretty warm.”
At his touch, too many memories of last night flood through your brain and you shake away his hand. “Yeah. I’ll just go lie down for a little. Have a good day.”
Before he can say anything else, or realise your suspicious behaviour, you dodge past him and head off back into your room to hide. “I left your pizza in the fridge,” he calls after you and you just grunt in thanks before barricading yourself in your room.
You lean against the door for a minute before you realise you didn’t even grab a spoon. Unwilling to go back out there, you’ve resigned yourself to licking it out of the container like a cat when you hear a gentle knock at the door.
“I got you a spoon,” San’s unsure voice filters through the wooden door, and you squeeze your eyes shut.
“Thanks, San,” you murmur, turning to open the door a crack and take the proffered utensil. “Sorry for being short with you.”
His lips quirk into a half-smile, a silent acceptance of your apology. “I get it. Just get some rest, YN.”
You close the door again, this time a warm heart in your chest mixing with the guilt you still feel in your gut. You’re not sure how on earth you’re going to get over your feelings for San.
-
Avoiding San goes well for the most part. You are in your finals week anyway, and you’re spending most of your time at the library or in class. Your college’s library stays open for 24 hours during the last week of school anyways so some nights you’ve just been staying there until morning. Hongjoong disapproves heavily but doesn’t say much about it and you appreciate his support either way.
Avoiding Yeseul proves much harder. She seems to always find her way to wherever you happen to be, interrupting you and Hongjoong’s study sessions with a perfect smile and narrowed eyes. You don’t know what she wants from you, and you aren’t pleased with her presence.
But one evening, you’re about to leave the library to have some dinner when she corners you. “YN, let’s talk,” she says in that sickeningly saccharine voice of hers, looping her arm into yours and pulling you down the street. “I have some things to ask you.”
Unwilling, you try to tug your arm out of her grasp, but the girl is stronger than you expected. She pulls you all the way to her dorm on campus, sitting you down on her leather couch. “What is your relationship with Choi San?”
Her question comes so suddenly you need a minute to register. To her credit, Yeseul waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “He’s my friend and roommate?” you say as truthfully as you can muster, although you know it’s an absolute lie, and judging from her expression, Yeseul doesn’t believe you either.
“Don’t take me as a fool, YN. The way he talks about you is undeniable.”
“That seems like something you should be talking to him about,” you say, attempting to get up from the couch but Yeseul just pushes you back down.
“I’ve tried. He just tells me there’s nothing to worry about and I don’t believe that,” Yeseul grits through her teeth.
And you have to give it to her. She did try to come to San about her worries. But the way she refuses to trust him grates on your nerves. He stopped his fuckboy activities to be with her, and yet she’s worried about you, one of the few girls who isn’t all over him at any moment. You arch a brow. “Do you not trust him?”
Yseul scoffs. “Of course not. He’s a fuckboy. But I like the status I get with him. I just don’t want to end up embarrassed.”
Well, that will be inevitable, you can’t help but think to yourself. No matter how much your relationship with San is strained, you’re not about to let Yeseul talk shit about him like he isn’t genuinely trying for her.
“That’s where you come into play,” Yeseul’s smirk turns sharp. “I’m going to call San. Ask him to choose between us. If he chooses you, then I want you to stay far, far away from him.”
You shrug. No matter the outcome, it’s not like you’re not already keeping your distance from San. In the end, you’ll just tell him to break up with her and let him deal with the chaos himself. “Go ahead,” bitch.
San picks up on the first ring. “Yeseul?” He’s cheery and your heart aches at the thought of Yeseul breaking his so easily. “What’s the occasion?”
“Hey, babe, I just have a quick question, and I need you to answer truthfully for me, okay?” At his pause, she takes that as a go-ahead. “Who would you pick? Me or YN.”
There’s a long silence on the phone. “Yeseul, we need to break up.”
Only one thing unites you and Yeseul in this moment, and it’s your shared confusion for San’s reaction. “What do you mean?” her voice turns panicked. “Isn’t that a little far?”
“You’ve been stuck on this, and I don’t know how much I have to reassure you, Yeseul. I haven’t even seen YN for the past two weeks. And she’s my closest friend. I’m not dropping her for a two-week relationship. I hope you have a good time, Yeseul.”
Before you can react at all, Yeseul screeches and points an accusing finger at you. “This is all your fault, YN!”
Your jaw drops at her absolute audacity. “My fault? What are you on? I was just trying to live peacefully when you dragged me into this plot ignoring my advice. I told you to talk to him, to just fucking trust him. God, you’re an idiot. And I’m going home.”
Without another word, you leave, still fuming over that interaction. Couldn’t she just have made the call without you? You’re happy you don’t have to do all the convincing for San to leave her, but that just complicates things for you. Would he really so easily drop Yeseul just for you? From what you’ve heard, he was practically head over heels for her.
With another sigh, you head back to the library. You need to finish that exam.
-
“Pens down, and turn in your exams,” you hear the professor call, and you don’t think you’ve ever gotten up so fast. You’re so, so fucking happy that you’ve finished your last year and now you’re free.
As soon as your professor accepts your paper you race out of the lecture hall, only stopped by the cafeteria when you hear someone call your name. Lee Juyeon, someone you’ve started growing closer to, waves you down. “Hey, YN, congrats on finishing!” he smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, the giddiness contagious.
“Thanks! You too,” you say, pulling him into a hug. “It’s so nice to be done.” Practically nothing could dampen your mood, especially seeing Juyeon. He’s sweet, and you have an inkling he likes you. And you’re not opposed to it.
“It really is,” Juyeon agreed cheerfully. “Look, I have to go celebrate with my family, I just wanted to say hi. But hey…there’s this end of the year party on Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
And your suspicions were right. You think about it for a moment. You’re not the biggest party person, anyone knows that, but Juyeon is sweet and just what you need, so you accept eagerly. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to exchange numbers and for him to promise to send you more details before he runs off. And through your excitement, you know you still have to go meet with San who’s probably waiting for you just outside. He wanted to see you as soon as you finish your exams, and you didn’t have the heart to decline.
“Congratulations on finishing your last exam, YN!” San cheers as soon as you exit the college building. “I’m so proud of you!”
You’re too tired to complain when San sweeps you up into a hug, just letting yourself relax in his firm arms. After all this work, you think you’ll let yourself indulge in his affection. “Thanks, Sanah. I appreciate it.” You let your chin rest on his broad shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion take over you. “Can I go to bed now?”
You hear him chuckle, the vibrations from his chest comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. We can celebrate later. Come on.”
He tugs you all the way to your apartment, dropping you on the couch and quickly curling right up next to you. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I’m proud of you,” he repeats into your hair as he tucks your head into his neck. Your eyes flutter shut.
When you reopen them, it’s bordering on evening. San is no longer wrapped around you, and you can hear him moving about in the kitchen. “San,” you call out, voice raspy from having just woken up. “What are you doing?”
“Ah, I’m making dinner,” he responds, his voice too warm for your liking, your heart beating just a little faster. “Come and eat.”
With a bit of difficulty, you rise from the couch and move to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter. “Japchae? When did you learn how to cook this?”
San chuckles. “Wooyoung taught me the other day because he was bored. I figured it’d be a nice surprise for you after all your hard work.”
Your lips twitch, unsure if you should smile or pout. “That’s sweet. Thank you again, San.”
As you start eating the noodles (there’s a little too much sesame but you don’t have the heart to tell San that), San clears his throat. “So…I promised to take you to a party.”
You vaguely remember this conversation. “Ah, yeah. What did you have in mind?”
“There’s this end of the year party, it’s supposed to be the biggest one, hosted by Jackson Wang.”
“Ah–” you shake your head, eyes apologetic. “I promised someone else I’d go with them. I didn’t know that was the party you wanted to take me to. Maybe we can do something else on a different day?”
San’s lips turn downward the slightest bit. “That’s okay. There are other parties. Who invited you, by the way?” His tone is casual, and yet you still feel like you’re walking into the lion’s den.
“Ah, Lee Juyeon from college. I think he’s in Hongjoong’s philosophy department, but he’s a year behind. He’s cute so I figured I’d give it a try.”
“It’s a date?” Your brows furrow at the heaviness in San’s voice but you pay it no mind and nod. “I see. Well, have fun.”
The rest of the dinner is filled with silence, San picking at his food and you in no mood to try and dissect his mood. He takes your empty bowl and starts doing the dishes, and you mumble out a thank you before running back to your room. He’s clearly not willing to talk more and it’s best to give him space.
As you lay in bed, you can’t help but worry about what is so grating on his mind after you mentioned your date. You can’t think of anything that would cause him to be angry—as far as you’re aware he has no grudges against Lee Juyeon, much less met him. Shaking your head, you try and fall asleep. It’s best not to dwell on it, you can just ask him tomorrow.
-
It’s Saturday, and you’re in a foul mood. San hasn’t spoken to you in the four days leading up to the party, avoiding you like there’s no tomorrow. The only saving grace comes in the form of Juyeon’s excited texts, telling you all about his outfit for the party, and you respond with matching enthusiasm. When you meet with Juyeon in front of the large house where the party is held, the thought of San isn’t even on your mind. Instead, you just take Juyeon’s offered hand and follow him into the party.
You weave through the bodies, reaching the counter where shots are being passed around. “Want vodka or tequila?” Juyeon asks, his voice pitching higher to be heard over the bass. Without answering him, you just reach for the bottle of tequila, pouring the two of you shots. “Good choice,” Juyeon laughs, throwing his head back as he downs the alcohol, you following suit shortly.
“You know, I never pegged you for a college party fan,” you lean in, laughing. “Maybe I should hang out with you more.”
Juyeon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Maybe you should. I know great party-throwers. Although I’ve heard you’ve been to your fair share, what being San’s friend and all.”
You shake your head, a smile on your face. “Maybe at first, but you know, organic chemistry isn’t an easy major to balance with a party life.”
Juyeon laughs loudly, bumping you with his hip. “I understand the pain. Philosophy falls into that category of majors too. Another shot?”
You take the second shot happily, letting the alcohol burn through your veins as you stumble alongside Juyeon’s wandering through the crowd. Whatever you’re doing is a blur, all you can focus on is Juyeon’s smile and his warm hand holding yours.
It feels like barely a moment has passed when Juyeon pulls you into a nearly empty room of couches, only a few other couples lingering in the corners. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Juyeon starts, his eyes sparkling as he takes in your appearance. “It’s been fun hanging out.”
“I did too,” you agree with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes.
He leans in, and you lean in, and your lips brush. It’s a sweet kiss, one that you lean into as Juyeon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s warm and you smile into it. And then a familiar face pops into your head. You wonder to yourself how San would kiss you, if he would do it as sweetly as Juyeon or if he would devour your lips like it was his last meal.
When Juyeon pulls away for air, you feel guilt burning in your stomach again. Why would you think of other men when Juyeon’s right here in front of you? As Juyeon leans in to kiss you again, you almost move back before a hand grips your shoulder and pulls you into a broad chest.
“Hey, man, I’m going to have to talk to YN if you don’t mind.” You’d recognise your best friend’s voice anywhere, and it only serves to fill you with annoyance. Sure, you weren’t as into Juyeon’s kisses as you expected, but it doesn’t mean you’re thrilled to be interrupted by the man who’s been ignoring you.
Juyeon takes one look at San, and something changes in his eyes. A mix of reluctance and acceptance, and with a short nod and smile towards you, he slips away from you. You turn to San, frowning at the sharpness in his narrowed eyes, not one you’re used to seeing or enjoy seeing. “Why would you kiss him?” he spits, and your annoyance grows with confusion being added to the mix.
“What do you mean, ‘why kiss him’? I told you, San, I was on a date. Why the fuck did you interrupt us?”
“I like you.” Those three words would be a dream for you to hear from his mouth…if you weren’t so pissed.
“No, fuck that. I do not need to hear that from you right now. Not when I was enjoying my night with Juyeon. What was confessing supposed to do for you, San? It’s too late now. I wanted to enjoy this party, and now I have to go apologise to Juyeon for you.” San opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, pushing him away from you.
You leave San standing by himself as you search for Juyeon, your mood immediately souring. Why would he fucking do this to you? You can feel tears burning your eyelids and you abandon your search for Juyeon, searching instead for some liquor to take away your embarrassment.
As you pour yourself another shot of tequila, you notice a familiar face, Hongjoong talking to a girl you recognise as someone he hangs out with sometimes. They look like they’re getting it on and you feel a little bad, but you need his advice. “Hey, Kim Hongjoong!” you call out to him, waving him over. Hongjoong’s eyes brighten and he makes his way over, leaving the girl staring after him longingly, but her attention is soon taken away by two other guys. You recognise one of them from the cafeteria but you don’t remember his name.
“Hey, YN, what’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here, did San take you?” Your face falls and Hongjoong realises he stepped into dangerous territory. “Okay, what happened?”
-
“I can’t believe San is mad at me for kissing someone at the party,” you groan after explaining to Hongjoong the events leading up to now. “Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best move on my part but he’s had like, twenty million one-night stands, and yet I can’t kiss someone else? He hasn’t even talked to me after I mentioned going on a date. And yet he looked positively murderous after he saw me kissing that other guy.”
Hongjoong tilts his head, confused. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? You like him.”
“I did! I do! But I’m so sick of waiting around for him, and I could’ve had a chance at liking someone else. He’s all over the place, and I don’t know if that’s what I want in a man.” You’re lying to both Hongjoong and yourself, and Hongjoong knows it, raising an eyebrow.
“Honestly, YN, it just sounds like you need to talk to him.” Hongjoong crosses his arms, tapping his foot and eager to back to the girl was with, but also not wanting to ditch you in your time of need. You feel a little bad for pulling him away, but your mind is swirling with so many thoughts, you don’t know if you can sort them out by yourself and drinking to erase those thoughts is not something you like to do. You’re not San.
And speak of the devil, you smell his familiar cologne before his hand lands on your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. You whirl around out of his grip and glare at him. “Get off me,” you snap. “I’m in the middle of a conversation right now, Choi San.”
With one glance at Hongjoong, he raises his hands and winks at you. “Have that talk, YN. It’ll do you more good than harm.”
Oh, you’re going to kill that traitor after the party. You turn your attention back to San, your mouth twisted into a frown. “You make this quick or else.”
San has the decency to look a little ashamed as his eyes shake. “Can we talk on the patio? It’s too loud in here.”
With a dramatic sigh, you grab his wrist and pull him through the crowd to the back door, practically slamming it behind you. You can see the eyes of people interested in the drama through the windows but you pay it no mind. “Speak. You get five minutes before I go back in and you don’t talk to me again for the rest of the night.”
San’s face falls and his lips pull into a pout. But no matter how subconsciously adorable he is, you refuse to fall for his charms this time. The heat of anger is still curling in your gut when you think about the argument from earlier. “YN, come on, I had a good reason.”
You shake your head, ignoring the strands of hair that fall into your eyes. “No, San. Confessing to me is not a good reason to fuck up my night. You didn’t even apologise. You’ve been ignoring me for days after I mentioned my date, and the moment I kiss Juyeon you get all angry and jealous? Be for real.” You pause for breath, glaring daggers into his eyes. “You are not owed my time, especially after that shit you pulled. Yeseul’s jealousy is why you broke up with her, so why are you like this to me?”
San’s gaze intensifies and you can see him actively trying to reign in his temper. Although he does his best to remain calm, if tempers are rising, he can be intense. “YN, what was I supposed to do? Watch you go out with him? Watch you slip from my fingers just like that?”
“Yes!” you all but scream at him. “If I could sit by and let Yeseul take each little bit of your heart, you could’ve done the same! I was going to be happy, San! I wouldn’t have to sit behind and watch you from the sidelines with my heart slowly cracking. But I don’t get that same courtesy.”
You step forward, poking his chest with a finger as you let loose your storm of thoughts. In your anger, you don’t even notice San’s arm moving until it wraps around your waist and pulls you into him. The action shocks you enough that you stop mid-sentence, your finger still pressing into San’s flesh. “You love me?” San leans in, his nose brushing against yours.
You can feel heat flare up in your face as you stare wide-eyed at him. It takes you a moment to register your compromising position and you stumble back, pushing at his chest. “Don’t do that,” you hiss, turning your eyes away. “I don’t like you, San. Not anymore.”
“You’re lying.” San’s voice is firm. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like me anymore.”
You don’t know where you got it from. You’ve never been good at lying, not to San. Maybe it was the alcohol burning through your system, mixing with the shame and anger you feel. But this time, you stare him directly in the eye and say the four words that might’ve been the biggest lie in your life. “I don’t like you.” San’s brows furrow and he shakes his head.
“No–”
“Yes, San. You cannot just waltz around and expect me to keep the patience I had for you. I’m sick of being pulled around like a puppet. Maybe at first you didn’t know. But refusing to give me space when I asked for it?” You shake your head, glancing back at the party. “I’m going back in. We can talk about the apartment lease later.”
Without glancing back, you re-enter the house. And maybe it hurts a little that he doesn’t go after you, but at this point, you’re too numb and all you want to do is go home and cry. But home is not an option, not when it would probably be the first place he would look for you. Fighting back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you slide into your car, staring blankly at the wheel for a long moment until you feel composed and sober enough to drive.
And drive you certainly do. You’re not quite sure where you’re going, and you’re plenty aware that this is a bad idea, but you just let yourself go around and calm yourself down first. The crisp breeze paired with the warm spring air does wonders to clear your head and paired with the late times, there are not too many cars out. It’s peaceful.
You’re not too sure how long you were out, but it’s long enough for the blurry memory of the argument to clear and you groan, pulling over to park by the side of the road and let your head hit the steering wheel. You went too far. San had always been the more emotional of you two, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He must’ve had a hard time with Yeseul, and although it doesn’t excuse him, you never gave him a chance to properly apologise.
With a sigh, you check your phone to see five missed calls and twenty texts from San asking where you are. He somehow even got your neighbours (a sweet couple in their twenties who babysit Byeol sometimes) to ask you if you’re okay. As your finger hovers over the call button, debating whether to call him back, bright headlights shine behind your car and you stiffen. Your hand hovers over the pepper spray you keep in the dash as you press the call button in a panic. No matter what the disagreement was about, you know San would still come to your aid if you needed it.
“YN, open the door. I’ve been worried sick!” San’s voice crackles through the receiver and you spin around in your seat, squinting at the figure standing behind your car and your shoulders sag in relief.
“God, San, you scared the shit out of me!” you scold, leaning over to unlock the passenger seat and push the door open while hanging up the call. “Get in here.”
A haggard-looking San slides in, his eyes red-rimmed and mouth pressed into a thin line. The car that drove him turns and you look back in confusion before San starts explaining. “I wanted to give you space so I stayed at the party,” he starts explaining after a moment. “But I got worried and went to the apartment to find you. But you weren’t there, and I asked all your friends. I’m lucky you left your location on, and my friend gave me a ride.”
You wince. You forgot about turning off your location, although you’re glad you didn’t as it would’ve been more dangerous otherwise. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning your eyes to look out the windshield. “I just needed to clear my head so I went for a drive.”
There’s a long period of suffocating silence between the two of you when San finally speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry,” he starts and your head snaps towards him, eyes wide. Of all the things you expected to fall from his lips, an apology is not one of those things. Not tonight, at least. “I was too pushy. I shouldn’t have ignored you, or interrupted your time with Juyeon. I should’ve talked to you like an adult.”
You laugh, resting your head on the steering wheel. “What an astute observation, San. However did you come to that conclusion?” Your exasperation is evident in your tone and San sucks in a breath at how done you seem. “Look, San. I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be that bad. But I’m just…tired. I’m tired of always wondering what is running through your mind, where I am in your list of importance. You date Yeseul, but break up with her over me. You give me the cold shoulder when I go on a date, but suddenly me being on a date is unacceptable. I just don’t know how to take anything.”
Against your will, tears start to drop onto your thighs, streaking down the skin and you sniff. “Shit,” San panics beside you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He hands you a tissue and you take it with shaking hands, pressing your face into it as San tugs you closer, guiding you to lean against him.
He repeats soft little ‘sorry’s and leans his head atop yours, his tears falling onto your hair. The two of you stay in this position for a long while, no words are needed to understand the emotional moment.
“Let’s go home, YN,” San mumbles, his voice vibrating deep in your heart. “Let’s go home and we can talk tomorrow.”
You sniff again, tears run dry as you sit up and wipe your eyes. “Okay,” you whisper out. “Let’s go home.”
San stays attached to you throughout the drive home, his hand gripping onto your own hand whenever he can, and quickly wrapping you into a back hug as you walk up to the apartment. “I…cuddle with me tonight?” you ask, eyes flitting away from his face, missing the brilliant smile that spreads across it.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he hums, walking with you to his room, and he lets you slide in first, the smell of his detergent filling your mind and your eyelids flutter shut already. San crawls in next to you, pulling you close.
“Good night, YN,” San mumbles as your breathing evens out. As you drift off into sleep, you swear you feel his soft lips on your forehead but you dismiss it as wishful thinking.
-
When you reawaken, San’s still curled up, your body covered by his, his breathing slow and gentle. You can’t help but blink a couple of times to make sure it isn’t a dream when his arms tighten around your waist and he shifts. “YN?” His morning voice is as rough as always, rumbling low in his chest.
“Hey, Sanah,” you greet him quietly, leaning up to meet his eyes blinking slowly at you like a cat’s. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I should probably explain myself.” His voice vibrates against your neck and you giggle softly at the ticklish feeling.
“That would be nice.”
San huffs, but he can’t complain about your snark. “I like you, YN. I don’t know when I started to, and I definitely didn’t realise I did until I started dating Yeseul. I did like her, but not as deeply as I thought I did. It was so easy to break up with her as soon as she made me pick between you and her. The answer came to me without a doubt in my mind as soon as the question left her lips, and yet I still didn’t realise my true feelings.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, and you stroke his hair comfortingly. “I didn’t realise why I was so pissed about you going out with Juyeon, and that’s why I was avoiding you. It’s a stupid reason, I know. But I just didn’t know why, not until I saw you at the party kissing him. I just wanted to be there instead of you. And I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t like me anymore, but–”
“I love you.”
His head snaps up to stare at you after your sudden declaration, and after he registers your words a smile spreads across his face. He puffs out a breathy chuckle and you know his answer before he even says it. “I love you too.”
His eyes shine like you’ve hung the stars in the skies, and when they flit down to your lips, you know an unspoken question when you see it. You lean forward slowly, letting your eyes close once more when your lips meet his.
And damn, you were right about how San kisses. In a second, he deepens the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup your face while his tongue swipes at your lips. Shyly, you part your lips and he dives right in, licking into your mouth and biting at your lips.
“Sanah,” you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his plush lips. “Sanah–”
You repeat his name like a prayer as his lips travel down to your neck, littering wet kisses and bite marks all over your sensitive skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re so sweet to me,” San moans against your body. “Please, please, let me treat you right, make it up to you. Let me worship you.”
You whine as he laves his tongue over your breasts spilling out of the crop top you had worn last night. Any other time you would’ve stressed at how gross the clothes were but right now you could hardly even think about it. “Fuck, yes, please,” you beg when San nips at your cleavage, leaving a mark.
“Ah, already begging for me,” San groans, his hips pressing into your legs. “You’re so perfect.” His voice grows whiney as his sucks on your nipples, making your back arch.
His kisses move down your body until his breath is ghosting over your stomach and his hands are pawing at your pants, shoving them down as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have the same amount of minimal patience for your panties, and before you can react, he’s ripped them off your legs. “Choi San!” you scold, shifting to try and sit up but his grip on your hips stops you from moving too far.
“I’ll buy you a new pair,” San promises before diving right in and sucking at your clit without another moment’s hesitation. Your hips jerk and your core tightens at the sudden feeling as you throw your head back and moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream
His ministrations on your dripping cunt have you wordless. His fingers are pressing into your hip bones, the sensation making you squirm. As soon as his tongue breaches your clenching hole your hands fly down to grasp at his hair. “Fuck–” you squeal, your legs attempting to close but San just pushes them apart again, busying himself in your folds.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” San groans, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as he lets his teeth scrape against your clit. You can hardly focus on anything at the barrage of sensations filling you up, San fucking his tongue into you so well. Your thighs are shaking as you can feel yourself grow wetter and wetter against his face.
When you tilt your head down, he meets your eyes as he moves one of his hands to push a finger into your hole. “Shit–” your grip on his hair tightens impossibly. “Sanah–”
“Come for me, love,” San groans, and you let the dam break, screaming out his name until your voice is hoarse, and San licks up your release through it all.
When he finally pulls away from your twitching and sensitive core, his lips are covered in your glistening slick, thick globs of it sitting pretty on his chin. Without thinking, you pull him down and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. San groans as you lick his face clean, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth.
“Fuck, I need to fuck you right now or else I think I might go insane,” San growls, blindly fumbling in his nightstand to pull out a condom as he shoves down his sweats to reveal his hard, red cock. Without another thought, he opens the pack with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length with ease thanks to the precum dribbling down it.
He lines up, the tip of it kissing your hole, when you groan. You’re much too impatient for this, reaching down and holding him steady as you shift your body to sink onto his thick cock. “Shit, YN,” San grits out as you take him deeper and deeper until your cunt kisses his crotch. “You’re too much.”
You pant, shifting on his cock as you try to get used to the stretch. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but he’s thick and the stretch is almost too much. “You’re fucking talking, you fill me up so fucking well, Sanah.” You hiss as you throw your head back, the stinging melting into pleasure. “Fuck me already, San. Or should I go and find Juyeon to–”
You’re cut off by San thrusting into you so violently that you swear the bed shakes. “I don’t want to hear that fucking name out of your mouth anymore,” San commands, leaning forward until his body weight pins you down and your eyes roll back as he starts fucking into you with short, quick thrusts.
With every movement, you feel like you may break apart. You can hear every slick sound, the sound of it obscene, and yet all you want is more. Your previous release coats his cock so well, thick strings of it attaching to his hips.
His arms wrap around your waist, and before you can protest or do anything, he hoists you up until you’re sitting in his lap. You swear this angle makes him impale you even deeper, his cockhead kissing the perfect spot deep inside you. Your head drops to San’s shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck, San, you’re so deep,” you moan high-pitched. “You’re so fucking good for me.”
San growls, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “You’re so tight for me, so much better than Yeseul. I saw you in the mirror, you know,” he whispers conspiratorially and you gasp and clench, snapping your head to look at him. “You’re not as sneaky as you thought, love. Did you touch yourself to the thought of me fucking you so well?”
You whine, words failing you, and San’s hips slow to a stop. You try your best to grind against him but his hands grip your waist, keeping you still. “Please–” you try to beg but San chuckles and nips at your earlobe.
“Answer me, YN.”
“Fuck– Yes!” you cry out, so eager for him to start moving again. “Wanted you to fill me with your cum so well until it was spilling out of me. Please, please, please, fuck me.”
“Hm.” And without any warning, San jerks his hips up into you, biting into your neck like a fucking vampire and you scream, hips stuttering as you come on his cock. You don’t think you’re making any coherent noises, just babbling into his neck as your bones become jelly from the overstimulation.
If you thought the sounds were obscene before, you swear they’ve become ten times worse as you lay limp against San’s body. He’s moving you up and down his cock like a doll and you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as you still feel aftershocks from your orgasm.
“Shit, you’re so warm around me, I’m gonna come,” San moans in your ear, his rhythm breaking as he drops your weight on his cock. You can feel him twitching inside you as his teeth sink into your neck once more. “God, I want to fill you up so badly, but that’s just going to have to wait, my love.”
After a long moment, he pulls out, groaning at your come coating the condom and his thighs. Without thinking, he dips his fingers in the mess and brings it to his mouth, licking it off like it’s the most delicious thing in the world to him. “Come here, baby,” he says in that beautifully raspy voice, and you lean forward, meeting his lips in another kiss.
This kiss is sweet and soft, but the lingering taste of your shared releases still permeates your taste buds. You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he lays against the wall with you in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, pressing another kiss to the top of your head and it’s almost like he hadn’t fucked you like it was your last day on earth. “I won’t ever leave you again.”
You hum, turning your head to pepper kisses over his neck freckles. “I should be the one saying that. I love you, San. And I’ll always run to you with no hesitation.”
#pirateeznet#wkcnet#kvanity#ateez#ateez fanfiction#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez smut#ateez angst#ateez san#san#choi san#san ateez#san x reader#san fanfiction#san fanfic#san angst#san smut#san fluff
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it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?
first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.
one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.
this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.
oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.
basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.
but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!
at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.
just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.
#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it#some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively#but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much#maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk#but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t#ask answered#testosterone#hrt#ftm hrt#hair loss#trans men#transmascs
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High By the Beach
Felix Catton x reader
Smut <3
An: AHHH SECOND FIC BBS!! ENJOY! Also, if I was Oliver, the drain wouldn’t be the only thing i’m sucking on…
(ik Felix smokes cigs but i feel like he’ll get high every once n a while :3)
Felix loves to get high. But he loves fucking you even more. Adding the two together makes him feel like he just might have made it to heaven early.
The sight of you, his angel, wrapping your pouty, bitten lips around a blunt makes his cock twitch inside of you. Although, he makes a mental note of not biting your lips as hard. He couldn’t be rough with his sweet baby. After all, he is a gentle, and passionate lover. For now, anyways.
He always became so soft when high; wanting nothing more than to please you, and show you how much he loves you.
His strokes are sloppy, as he messily pumps in and out of you. Even so, you can still feel and see the passion and love he has for you.
Neither of you ever pay attention to how long the both of you remain intertwined. The two of you could go for hours and not think twice about it; but there are zero complaints from either side.
But sometimes, after he’s had one too many puffs, his mind gets hazy. That’s a given of course, but this makes him zone out. Makes him forget where exactly he is. Leading to him accidentally sliding out of your soaked cunt.
He comes down from the clouds in his head and realizes his mistake.
“s-shit. oh m’so sorry lovie, s’alright..lemme make it all better baby.” He slurs out in a whisper.
Nothing makes him happier than when he blows the smoke into your face; watching your eyes droop as you inhale softly.
The noises that can be heard in the room are his soft, needy groans; the slight bang of the headboard bumping against the wall; his big, heavy balls slapping against your skin. And most importantly, the sound of your high-pitch moans.
That’s his favorite noise in the whole world. It sounds like a heavenly gospel to him; the sweet melody of his angel. He swears it’s the best song he’s ever heard.
“tha’s right m’sweet angel, sing t’me.”
He doesn’t care who hears, in fact, that’s the last thing on his mind. All he can think about is how he’s pressing on your tummy as your pussy clenches around him. How your whines and cries become more rapid and abrupt; how your back arches while he continues to press you down into the mattress.
“c’mon baby, do it f’me. I know y’can”
His eyes shine as you cum around his cock; your pussy sucking him in. His brows furrow as he feels your delicious cum start to drip onto his cock. He looks down and watches the smoke crowd the bed as the base of his dick and his balls turns milky white from your drenched cunt. His thrusts slowly come to an end.
“ohhhh m’sweet angel, y’did soo good f’me.” He coos as he lays on top of you.
As you go to ask him about what he wants to do when it comes to him finishing, you hear soft snores exit his body.
You finish off the blunt and eventually drift off to sleep, the thought of Felix leaving himself unfinished roaming through your mind.
Felix didn’t think about coming, his goal was to give you the pleasure that you need; the pleasure that you deserve.
After all, he is a passionate lover.
#felix catton#jacob elordi#saltburn#felix catton x reader#felix catton imagine#oliver quick#oliver quick x reader#oliver quick imagine#jacob elordi x reader#jacob elordi imagine#felix catton x you#Lee’s Ted Talks#x reader#farleigh start#farleigh start x reader
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