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wandasfifthwife · 1 month

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(3) locker room ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: SMUT MDNI, r has a v&breasts, top wanda, bottom r, service dom!wanda, r is a bit needy, wanda absolutely goes feral once given the green light, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), wanda uses the shower head on r, sort of public sex (locker room shower), cum kink if you squint

a/n: not proofread. THE SMUT IS HERE LMAO. I was a bit too excited to write and publish this, I’ll come back and edit later. Anyways enjoy this filth.

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It was all a performance. Every shy touch pushing the narrative, cultivating confident hand placements. The hand on your shoulder would find itself on your waist, pulling you towards her.

The first time she kissed you she was nervous, her hands holding you close but still at a distance. Every one since then has been pushing you down a dangerous path. They all made you want more, you wanted to fall over the edge with her.

The desire was growing each day. When she kissed you goodnight. When she placed a hand on your inner thigh. When she ran her eyes over your body. It made your legs weak.

Earlier in the day, just as the sun was rising she had been at your apartment. It was an easy Saturday morning, resting in each other with the tv in the background. Light touches almost hovering over each other.

You felt like you were floating, goosebumps lining your body as her fingers drew chills.

She paid you no mind, whether intentional or not she was stirring your emotions. Her eyes were focused on the screen, an occasional whispered compliment on whatever the house designing show had to showcase. It was infuriating almost. Her lips would sometimes touch your neck, a gentle touch here and there. She had strung you up and left you there when she had to leave for an appointment.

You laid where you once were, unsure of what to do until her contact showed up on your phone. She sounded out of breath as she asked you to come to the arena. You clambered into your car, almost speeding down the roads.

You didn’t give much of a hint as to where she was, last thing mention on the phone was that she was in the gym. The problem was that it was empty save for one man on the stair climber. You passed by without a care, feet wondering into where the ground turned into tiles.

There were a multitude of lockers aligning the wall, which were all off except for one. One had a small sign, the red light giving away that it was occupied as opposed to the surrounding green LEDs.

You called out her name, walking towards the showers and not thinking to check behind you. There were enclosed spaces, each separated by a wall. You walked to one, feeling bored so you pull at the level until the water came pouring down. It was in way better condition than you originally assumed.

Wet footprints sounded behind you, slight nerves picking up in fear it might be another woman besides the one you came looking for. They were eased when she came into view, a towel in her hand.

“You got here quick. I was going to try and shower before,” she emphasizes her words by lifting her towel up. Your eyes follow the movement and how it extends her muscles.

You feel your heart pick up, the feeling she had started before coming back to life. You point behind you, nonsense coming from you, “I don’t mind waiting, I could take a shower as well. My water bill is expensive.”

“Okay,” she says and begins to set her stuff at the one right beside the one you were standing at. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you had wished she would make a move. That she would hint at wanting to join you, maybe showing interest in you sexually.

You breathe deep and undress where you are, closing the curtain just before doing so. You reach a hand out to set your clothes on an outside bench. The water was hot, the smoke rising and collecting on the surrounding black tiles. It was much nicer than the shower you had at home and it genuinely surprised you.

She realized before you, calling out and saying she had soap if you needed. Her tone was teasing, asking if you were here to take a dry shower. You called out for her to hand it to you. The curtain made its clinking sound, causing your heart to fall out of your chest. You flinch, freezing as you come face to face with her. Her completely clothed body contrasting yours.

Her eyes flicker between your face and bare skin. No words escape her, face neutral as she hands you the soap and leaves with a jerk to the curtain.

It made your heart jump out of your chest when a second later you hear her curse. She brushes past the curtains again, descending towards you. It was two steps before your back collides with the shower wall.

A protest is taken from you when her lips collide with yours. She spreads your hands out beside you, intertwining them and holding them. There’s a forceful pressure in how you’re held between her body and the wall behind you. A heat builds within you and around the two of you as you drown in each other.

Her lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, pulling a moan from you, “can’t resist, I can’t wait anymore.”

She slides your arms to wrap around her neck, “I need to hear you say you want this. I’ll drop everything if you’re not ready.”

You smile and nod as you vocalize your consent. She’s lifting your left leg with a hand dragging under your thigh and propping it on her waist.

“At any time you need to stop or you want to slow down, tell me please, okay?”

You mumble your confirmation, hands fiddling with her wet hair. She places gentle kisses down your body, starting under your jaw and trailing down towards your inner thigh.

Her attention is completely focused, eyes glazed over already. A whine is pulled from you the second her tongue is licking across your heart. She presses it harder onto your clit, morning when she feels you tug at her hair.

You have a hand in her hair, another pressing against your mouth. A hand on your hip holds you open, barely putting in any effort whenever your hips twitch or try and close around her head.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles into you.

She slides the first finger in, a shameful whine coming out from behind your hand. The water falls behind you two, the heat and pressure below pressure you to breathe deep.

When she feels you’re ready, she begins to fit another finger in. She doesn’t miss how you shiver when she angles her fingers.

“Like that, sweet thing?”

A string of yeses fill the room, your tone breathy and sweet. She’s driving them in harder, directing them right at the spot that has your legs quivering.

Her tongue presses against your clit, building pleasure between your legs. You whimper at the sudden bite to your inner thigh. It was then that she decided to slide a third finger.

“Wanda,” you breathe out, back arching to chase after what she had been building.

Her fingers twist, trusting against your upper wall just as she sucks on your thigh.

“Oh my—please.”

You’re tugging at her hair, gasps and incoherent mumbles tumbling out from your lips.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” she sucks at your clit, grinning at how your body reacts, “gonna come?”

Too much time passes and she’s impatient. Wanda thrusts her fingers in harder, a complete contrast of how gentle her voice sounds.

“Love. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you whimper, “don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing so.“

With a final kiss to your clit you’re sent over the edge. You grip at the tile, nails digging into the grooves. Wanda removes her fingers instantly, almost frantic as she brings her mouth to your heat. She soaks up every shiver, tongue swiping until all she can taste is herself.

You mumble her name, “kiss me.”

She’s shooting up, meeting you halfway. A muffle moan sounding from her as soon as you do.

“Mm,” you smile into her lips, “you taste good.”

“It drives me crazy,” she admits and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. A hand comes and strokes at your back, calming you down. It was when you felt your mind begin to clear, the effects of the orgasm fading away when she had started biting around your neck.

“If you continue like that,” you begin, stopping to gasp when she actually bites on your shoulder.

“Or what,” she questions, her eyes look at to the shower head with a shit-eating smile. You follow where she looked and jerk her head back by her hair.

“Every minute I spend with you I swear you just want me to believe you’re a total goof.”

“Is pleasing my girlfriend so bad?

“That’s a shower head.”

“So? Give me a chance,” she gives the worst puppy dog eyes, and yet you still can’t turn her down.

Her hands pull it off of the holder, the smile never leaving her face. Your emotions were apparent on your face. She laughs and kisses you sweetly, “it won’t hurt if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I don’t think that, I just think you’re crazy sometimes.”

She hums, ignoring you and opening your legs. The water pressure feels like you’re grinding down on a pillow.

“You make the cutest faces,” she murmurs quietly to herself. She tilts her wrist for it to angle just below your clit. The action has your nails tearing into her back.

“Feel good, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, head falling onto her shoulder, “keep it there, please, please.”

She shushes you, repeating how she’s going to take care of you. She changes the setting, eyes steady on you and each reaction she pulls from you.

“Gonna come already?”

“Keep it there,” you move your head to kiss her chin, “please Wanda.”

“I will,” she whispers, “I will.”

When she realizes you’re coming, she’s hanging the shower head back to not overstimulate you. You’re coming down your high, breathing deep into the space you’ve created between you and her.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”

You laugh breathlessly, head tilting back as she kissing around your chest and neck.

The sound filling her heart with joy. You stay cooped in each other’s hold, feeling comfortable not saying anything for a few minutes.

“Was it okay?”

“It was wonderful,” you kiss her nose, “thank you. I feel bad, you haven’t gotten off.”

“You don’t have to, watching you was enough.”

You push her back and stare at her, “did you really come from watching me?”

She pinches under your breasts, “no. I just got myself off when I was eating you out earlier. I wasn’t lying, seeing you come is enough.”

“Speaking of,” wanda grabs at your waist, “do you want to come again?”

You smack her hands away, a warning that if she doesn’t actually shower, you’ll shoo her off to another shower. She does so well for the first part, enjoying herself and being with you.

It was sweet how she checked in, hands gentle washing the soap into your hair. It was when she had to start washing your body that she became suspicious. What set you her was how she was taking too long to wash your breast.

She had stood behind you, hands running down the front of your body while she breathed deep into your ear about how she wanted to take you while someone was in a shower beside you. You realized then that your warning was fake. She too realized, another playful smile finding its way onto her face as she felt your body melt into hers again.

The water had become cold by the two of you came back to reality and finish “showering.”

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@sokovianbaby @natsbiggestfan1

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #dom wanda #wanda x you #top wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #mommy wanda #hockey coach!wanda #competing series #marvel wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximommy #bottom reader #service dom!wanda

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hoonven · 6 days

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in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you

genres! fluff?, angst, celebrity x celebrity, ex-lovers

word count! 1380

warnings! mention of breakup, heartbreak

synopsis! in another life, you and park sunghoon are lovers, just not in this one

mimi’s note! this fic was inspired by a quote from the movie ‘everything everywhere all at once’ also I'm not very good at writing angst because I hate it but I did my best

“Congrats, big shot,” a familiar voice says from behind you, and you can hear the teasing smile in his tone, “actress of the year award, you're in the big leagues now.”

You turn around to face Park Sunghoon, a renowned figure skater and your ex-boyfriend. You haven't seen each other in almost a year but the sight of him still has the same effect on you it did all those years ago.

He's hauntingly beautiful and you're a house of horrors.

You offer a polite smile, but it's bittersweet as if you were greeting death itself.

“Congratulations to you too, you're becoming a bit of an A-list yourself since you won the Olympics.” you quip, and you both know what kind of game you're going to play tonight.

It’s the same one you always play, the one where he pretends you didn’t break his heart and you pretend everything is fine.

Sunghoon smiles at you too, like you're everything he's ever had and everything he's ever lost.

“Maybe we should exchange autographs like middle schoolers trade Pokémon cards,” he says, and you both chuckle.

“Hmm, I have a feeling mines will be more valuable.”

He playfully puts a hand over his heart. “That’s hurtful, y/n, but I can’t deny that it’s also true.”

The gala was still roaring with life when you stepped out for some fresh air, you sat on concrete stairs, not caring if you got your 20,000-dollar dress dirty. You couldn't care about a lot of things lately.

You and Sunghoon had long parted ways, the conversation only lasted about five minutes before you were seated at your respective tables, you didn't see him again after that.

You’ve gotten everything you ever dreamed of at this point in your career, and you accomplished all your goals, in the beginning, it all seemed so impossible, but now that you're here and you've done it, you’re not so sure what's left anymore.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, a tall, pale figure steps out, dressed in a purely black suit, and you recognize him instantly.

“Following me?” you prop your chin in your palm as your elbow rests on your knee, carrying the weight of your head as you tilt it playfully.

He’s not startled by the suddenness of your voice, which tells you, yes, he was looking for you.

He smiled. “Maybe.”

He sat next to you on the stairs, not caring if his 5,000-dollar suit got dirty, though it wasn't actually because he didn't care about the suit, but because he just wanted to be close to you.

You're both silent for a while, simply appreciating being in each other's presence after so long.

Or maybe it's because you don't know what to say and he has too much to say, so you settle for the piercing silence of unsaid words.

Sunghoon has been silent his whole life, but he promised himself tonight he wouldn't be.

“Was it worth it?”

Ah. There it is.

You think as the corners of your lips curl upward, you knew this question was coming, you sensed it the moment you saw him again.

If he had asked you that a year ago you would’ve said yes, no hesitation, no second thoughts, just a straight-up yes, and you would have meant it too.

Suddenly the silk fabric of your dress starts to itch your skin, your diamond embroidered heels start to hurt your feet, and your pearl jewelry feels too heavy.

In only a single minute, Park Sunghoon has stripped you of your persona, called you out for the fraud you are, and seen the real you.

And he accepted you.

You lie to save your pride, it's a habit of yours that he knows all too well.

He doesn't think you're perfect, but you would never have to be for him to love you.

“Sometimes,” you say.

You don't bother lying, he’ll know.

You had always been a good liar until Sunghoon came into your life.

He gently nods in understanding at your response, “Do you ever think about it? About us?”

With a chuckle, you reply, “Of course I do.”

It's true that sometimes leaving him is worth the life you're living now, but there are fragments of times when you imagine what your life could've been with him.

In another life, you never left Sunghoon, you got married, bought a home together, adopted a dog, and had a child.

On the surface that sounds nice, but in another life, you are a housewife with broken dreams, you bought a home together but it wasn't the one you always dreamed of because you had to compromise with Sunghoon, you adopted a dog but you were never really an animal person, and you had a child but motherhood was never for you.

In another life, you are happy to be a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought your dream home together, you adopted a dog that you both love, you had a child and you are the most loving mother.

In another life, you are not a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought a home even better than your dream home, you adopted a dog but you're more of a cat person, and you never had a child but you always wanted to be a mother.

In another life, you and Sunghoon work from home, you bought a decent home together, and although it's not your dream one, it's good enough, you adopted a cat, and you never had a child but because that's the way you liked things.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are divorced, the home you bought together is just walls and a roof with painful memories, you don't adopt any pets, and you never had a child.

In another life, Sunghoon is a househusband, you don't care about having a dream home because any place is home with him, you adopted a dog and a cat, and you had a child who has everything they could ever want.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are teenagers again falling in love for the very first time, and you have no idea what the future holds for you.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are just a little bit younger than you are now, in the kitchen of your shared apartment, and you are trying to figure out how to do laundry so all your clothes don’t turn blue again and how to properly calculate your taxes so you don’t go to prison for tax fraud.

In another life, you and Sunghoon have grown old together, and you are experts at doing laundry and taxes.

In another life, you are the bottles of salt and pepper on the table of a random diner and things are entirely less complicated.

In another life, you never meet Park Sunghoon.

The possibilities are endless, and the truth is, you never know what will happen in your life, and that's scary, but you hope in another life you learn to accept the bad just as easily as you accept the good.

“What does it look like?” he asks.

“Laundry and taxes,” you shrug.

You both laugh at that.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Taxes and laundry,” he smiles.

You both laugh again.

The party inside is completely forgotten about as you and Sunghoon spend what feels like hours just sitting and talking, until the realization that it’s time to go home dawns on you.

Sunghoon gets up first, holding his hand out for you to take, and you do, but when he helps you to your feet he doesn't let go just yet, instead, he looks into your eyes and you feel his thumb caress your knuckles.

“It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

“It was good to see you again too, Sunghoon.”

He finally lets you go and you already miss his warmth.

He almost walks away but turns to face you one last time.

With a hint of a smile on his lips, he says, “You know, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”

And then Park Sunghoon walks out of your life forever, and you let him.

In another life, things didn't end that way.

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shibaraki · 4 months

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ON THIN ICE ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: your partner’s injury left the future of your skating career uncertain. but where one door closes, another is being held open—and has been, for many years.

tags: GN reader, no quirk au (figure skating), reader is an ice dancer, retired ice skater (+ teacher) touya, angst + fluff, sports related injuries, childhood friend shouto, best friends older brother touya, reference to canon, romance, mutual pining, first kisses, getting together, ice skating jargon (to the best of my ability lol)

wc: 8.3K

A pair of young, doe-eyed volunteers parted the curtains. Beyond it the battered ice and a stadium filled to capacity, their deafening cheers flooding through to the corridor. Harsh flashes of light assault your vision where the photographers are standing around the entryway; if not for the hand in yours, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to move.

The applause crashes over you as the other couple exit the ice. Bouquets, ribbons and gifts are thrown onto the ice, swiftly collected by the sweepers as the gates are opened for you to begin warming up.

“…and Todoroki Shouto!”

Your names are announced side by side, syllables ricocheting through the cavernous arena. Aizawa is there to take your jacket and hang it over the crook of his arm. You haven’t trembled under his sharp scrutiny in years but it is a close thing.

“Go out there and do what you do best,” he nods.

The cold rink air balloons in your lungs. It feels as though there is a black hole in your chest pulling at every quark within your body. You glide after Shouto, tension released from your shoulders in increments as you do a warm up lap of the rink, pushing into every stride to keep up with Shouto’s pace. He’s pale, you notice. A sickly sheen of sweat illuminated for you to see under the stadium lights and a pinch to the smile that softens as your fingers flex.

The beginning notes to music for your free dance start to play. In a blink it is nothing more than a figment of your imagination—there’s no time to second guess. Shouto takes you into his embrace and the routine you’ve worked to perfect throughout the season comes naturally. Rippling around one another like water meeting again and again, endlessly going out and coming in. Every leg movement, every turn and lift, every flick of the wrist snapped in time with the beat as you reacted to each other, movements tightly entwined, merging with a synchronicity that you would have only dreamed of in your adolescence.

The song crescendoed. The world fell silent.

And then it erupted.

Applause echoed around the arena. Thunderous, enough to overshadow the violent beat of your heart. You’re dazed, caught in a snare. Shouto poised above you, his pupils blown wide, a wild, pained look in his eyes. As presence of mind returns you become acutely aware of the arm shaking around your waist, the hand buried in his hair. The proximity—or lack of it. Short, frantic puffs of air ghost across your cheek.

You start to panic. Your hand slides down the curve of Shouto’s throat and he blinks, startled. And then his face crumpled.

He grew heavy in your arms.

He collapsed.

ICE DANCING PRODIGY TODOROKI SHOUTO TO RETIRE: UNDERGOES SECOND HIP SURGERY Skatebuzz - 11 December 20XX - 16:34

Three time national champion and prospective Olympian Todoroki Shouto will not only be missing the entirety of the 20XX-XX season but every one following. Revealed in a statement uploaded to his social media, Todoroki Shouto has announced his intention to retire. The ice dancer is reportedly recovering and ‘in good spirits’ regarding his decision. While the skating community has come together to wish him well, they have also begun to speculate about the future of his partner…

A slow, electronic instrumentation accompanies you onto the bus. Soft vocals intertwined with a soothing ambience. Purposeful in your choice of music—hoping it’ll calm your restless mind before you arrive. Your body jostles as you stare down at your phone. You click out of the article and open the text app. Eyes skim over the messages Touya had sent you an hour ago.

Touya : 16:45 ➢ Rink?

He must’ve heard the news.

You : 16:53 ➢ omw

Touya : 16:55 ➢ K. Hurry up

Things had gone quiet after Shouto’s second surgery last week and you haven’t been skating since. Over the years you had shared multiple strained numerous ligaments, a few blade nicks, bruised a coccyx and broken a finger or two, but a long untreated hip labral tear was not so quick to heal. You’d respected his request to sideline any talk of skating for a while. Having been skate partners for nearly a decade you understood the grief he must be feeling, because in part you are feeling it too.

Shouto’s absence on the ice was akin to a phantom limb. His father, Todoroki Enji, paired you together in early childhood, and over time a pleasant friendship quietly blossomed as you endured rigorous training and competitions together. Even after he broke away from Enji’s iron grip and sought new guidance under Aizawa’s care you followed right behind him. You had plans together. Dreams to chase.

To put to rest. To create anew.

The bus rolls to an abrupt stop. You grip the nearby handle and gather yourself quickly, shucking your bag higher as you walk down the narrow aisle toward the front. You dip and murmur in thanks at the driver before stepping off into the tepid air.

Seeing the rink is always a bit like coming home. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t desperately missed it. People smile in your direction, employees waving you in, recognising your face. The din is muffled by the music pouring into your ears; simple, contagious chords paired with soulful vocals. You hum along and kick off your shoes, taking no notice of the others in the locker room, incognisant to their whispers.

You hang your skates over your wrist and pad through toward the rink. Cold air fills your lungs. The old pop song playing through the speakers disrupts the harmony of your own—you pull out the earbuds with a sigh and lower onto a nearby bench.

A few feet away you hear a young girl exhale an awed sound. You glance up and follow her line of sight. There are a few junior level skaters doing their final lap, most practicing on their own, but that isn’t what she’s staring after. Gliding around the far end of the rink is their trainer, Todoroki Touya, and your best friend’s eldest brother.

Growing up alongside Shouto ultimately led to spending time with his family. You were integrated little by little, until it was entirely normal for you to have a set of spare keys to his house. Touya had been a taciturn presence amongst the siblings. You were drawn to him from the beginning. Rough around the edges and quick witted. Swan-like limbs, lithe muscle and a narrow waist, you recognised the subtle gentility in his movements that can only be attributed to skaters.

Though you knew he still practiced everyday, the topic of Touya’s dead skating career was off limits. You learned that very quickly. And you understand why now more than ever.

Watching him warm up in solitude, you couldn’t help but privately think the world had laid him to rest before his time. He shed his form and became one with the ice. Your ears prick at the sound of the blades as he slides, his loose white t-shirt billowing with the quick turn, flashing slivers of pale skin and scar tissue. The muscles in his thighs strained in the confines of his leggings as he took off to jump, wing span broad and beautiful, body suspended in the air.

There’s a lump forming in your throat. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t competition standard, or that his step sequences were unrefined. Touya always burned on the ice—he threw away his shame and took every leap without fear, because he was determined to do it. Because he knew he deserved better.

Poised like a prima ballerina, Touya grabs the edge of his blade and bends his leg high, changing the trajectory of his spin. For a few short minutes he is a soft blur, and then he deftly alters his footing, pushing off into another lap of the rink.

His speed increases. Curiosity urges you forward towards the rink wall. Your hands grip the railing, sucking in a sudden breath as you recognise what it is he’s trying to do.

A triple axel.

Touya lands hard and barely maintains his balance, forcing a stunned gasp from your lungs, joined by a chorus of others. It was clumsy and amateur, yet perfectly imperfect. The bright fluorescent lights reflect on the ice, exaggerating the mottled pink cutting across his cheeks, and the expression on his face can only be described as serene. Your heart hammers with excitement as if you were right beside him.

A modicum of guilt lingers despite everything. It was always too easy to envision yourself there. Shouto was a wonderful skater, and a partner hard to come by. He managed to make the act of sweeping another person with one arm for three rotations over an icy surface look effortless and skated like he was born for it.

But figure skating is brutal, a dangerous and painful sport cleverly masked by elegance and beauty—just like Touya. As he sinks to his knees with his head tipped back, releasing a loud, exhilarated laugh, you can’t help but think:

Touya skates like he’s in love with it.

Brushing back the loose white hair stuck to his forehead, Touya surveys the rink. You flinch away from his gleaming eyes when they land on you. The joy in his face turns grim as he pushes up and begins to glide over.

You, guided by your foolish nerves, scramble back to the bench and start on your skates. A presence steps off from the ice, another warm body at your side. Your fingers tremble as they work at the knot in your laces, undoing, pulling apart the tongues, shoving in your pointed foot. The silence grows slightly oppressive as Touya lowers himself to sit He leans forward, propping his chin on his bony knee, blades scraping the floor.

“All those gold medals at home and you still can’t lace your skates properly?”

It’s as much a lie as it is an olive branch. You bite your tongue, casting him an indolent glance. Touya rolled his eyes and patted his knee. You kick your foot up into his lap and set it down gently. He used to help you lace up, back when you were still floundering on the ice and learning how to fall. Meticulously, he crosses and pulls each loop taut. Touya remembers exactly how tight you liked your skates to be without a word of direction.

“They’ve announced Shouto’s retirement,” you say delicately. “And mine by proxy, I guess. I had to hear about it from Skatebuzz of all things”.

Touya grunts. After two long minutes he makes another of his quiet pay-attention-to-me noises. Wordlessly you meet his gaze. The cool overhead lights illuminate how his expression is flat in admonishment, “You shouldn’t look at that shit. It’ll make you miserable”.

A wave of irritation comes over you. “I still want to know. I knew he was considering it but—I should’ve known first. I have a right to, and it’s,” your voice cracks under the sudden sad weight sitting on your chest. “It’s not all bad stuff. There were nice comments”.

“They never stick. You forget them as soon as you see something negative”.

“That’s not—”

"I would know," Touya interrupts harshly. His eyes shutter as he collects himself with a deep inhale. He shakes his head and your leg jerks, skate knocked off his lap now that it is secure. “Give me the other one”.

You do, but not without first making a face at him, that which he returns tenfold. “Ugly,” he says. The warmth in his tone is all that keeps your hackles from raising. That’s how Touya is. Beautiful and bright and bruised, like a wounded animal that yelped at the lightest touch.

“Bastard,” you reply. “You looked cool out there, by the way. I didn’t know you could do a triple axel”.

“Can’t. I always fuck up the take-off,” he shrugs. The compliment is dismissed but there’s finally colour in his cheeks again. You’ve long since learned the intricacy of interacting with him. Treat him too delicately and he’ll bite. Treat him too flippantly and he’ll bite. There’s a careful balance between caution and carelessness.

Shouto never truly mastered it. As brothers they communicated like two closed fists. This is perhaps the only thing you can do that he cannot.

You smile at the thought, only for it to taper as you study Touya’s hands. Lithe fingers, a broad palm, uneven skin. A memory pushes its way to the forefront of your mind. For a fraction of a second you’re small again, and your hand feels tiny in his. You can barely keep yourself upright in the ill-fitted skates on your feet. You catch your toe pick and careen towards the ice with a yelp, only to be pulled back upright by Touya.

“I’ve got you,” he assured with a big, proud grin as you regained your bearings.

The force behind his present movements grows rough under your scrutiny. You wince. He loosens the laces and starts again. Off the ice there’s nothing particularly graceful about Touya. None of the typical pride and swagger. Like this he’s just—Touya. Bony and awkward, white hair tousled in every direction. Your best friend's older brother. The boy that kept you from falling on the ice when you were five.

Your dynamic has always been oddly harmonious, if not a bit melodramatic, your crush withstanding. It had been a plentiful source of lighthearted teasing from your partner and rinkmates alike. Whether his attentiveness toward you was for the purpose of goading Shouto in some way you weren’t sure, but grateful all the same.

It was Touya who stiffly suggested you assist him with the novice ice show. At the very least as something temporary to do, keeping your mind off the prospect of bowing out of competitive ice dance for good. The reception from your rinkmates had been lukewarm compared to the disastrous scenario you’d picture in your head. It came with varying degrees of surprise and confusion but overall they respected it. Shouto’s insistence that he attend your rehearsal blocks whenever possible tempered a majority of the nastier rumours, for which you were thankful, though not everyone had a working filter.

You’ve been working on refining individual elements for the kids. It’s far more difficult than you realised. After years competing at such a high level you’ve needed to reacquaint yourself with the basics, and somehow assemble them into a coherent, beautiful dance that would make your class feel proud.

Appreciative as you are to have him there, Shouto was no real help either. He was a natural at skating; albeit reluctant to accept that fact. Whenever one of the children asked him to explain the specifics of something he would end up staring in a loss for words. He rarely gave much active thought to the mechanics of how he skated since he instinctively knew how to do it.

Touya was the opposite. He skated with purpose and understood every movement his body made. What he lacked in clean edges he made up for in musicality. Purported by his emotions, in a way, and coaxing you along with him. He’s a good teacher. Passionate in a way that sparked passion in the student’s while being firm enough to keep them in line.

He could demonstrate each solo element with ease and explain it step by step. You envied the fire in his belly—undistinguishable and bright. Spending more time together has only succeeded in fuelling your feelings towards him.

“Skate with me?”

Touya’s sharp eyes skim urgently across your face in search of something. They soften. He huffs and then jerks his head toward the rink. “Why else would I tell you to meet here?”

Your cheeks ache, and you realise you’re smiling.

The junior level skaters have petered out, leaving the space relatively empty. You remove your guards and follow him onto the ice, doing a warm up lap of the rink. His legs—and by extension, his stride—are no longer than Shouto’s, and you don’t need to fight to keep up.

"Want to start with the Dutch waltz?"

While Touya earned his fair share of accolades—placing first in the Junior’s Division World Championship and receiving a Grand Prix invitation before the accident—he was never an ice dancer, and you loved monopolising that fact.

As expected Touya shot you an affronted glare. “I’m not doing the Dutch waltz. Toddlers can do the Dutch waltz,” he exaggerated.

“Should be easy for you then,” you replied blithely.

Touya let out a long sigh and shook his arms out before extending them to you. Hip to hip, you take his hand, dazed by the unfolding reality of the situation and the warmth of his skin. You let your blades carry you through the long axis of the rink and stand in a starting position.

Your uncertainty carries into the first steps, ebbing as the sequence progresses. Touya’s scowl smoothed out and his posture relaxed, aiding the flow of your shared movements and momentum. Your legs swing out in unison and the cold air whips across your cheeks. Preliminary as it was, you were excited to be skating with him. Glad, in part, that nobody else was around, giving the illusion that you were alone together in a space of your own making.

The hour passes cycling through a waltz at a time and crests at the final turn of a Westminster waltz. Despite his lack of formal ice dance coaching Touya’s technique was decent, as was his speed, and he flowed through each pattern as if it was the hundredth time he had done it. There are areas where your edges could have been stronger, or your stances straighter, but the intimacy you worked hard to portray with Shouto came naturally with him.

“You’re surprisingly good for a guy who insists ice dancing is beneath him”.

“Ice dance is equally advanced. Stop being dramatic,” he grumbles.

“Wow. Did that hurt to say? Kinda nice of you, actually”.

“Shut up”.

A wave of shocked murmurs bursts the bubble that had formed around the pair of you. Touya cranes his head, brow furrowed. Trepidation trickles in as you catch sight of a familiar dichromatic head. Shouto is here, leaning against the boards.

“Shouchan,” you push off to greet him with a tentative smile. His expression visibly gentles, a smile of his own coming to his eyes. “You look well. It’s good to see you up, but is it okay for you to be walking so soon?”

“Aizawa encouraged it. As long as I use the crutches,” he lifts one as proof, glancing around the rink. “You looked great together”.

It sends a surge of relief through your body, quieting the nagging part of your brain that always felt as if you were cheating on Shouto somehow. Touya is slower in his approach. He hunches over the sideboard and hums in that very cavalier, cool way that actually betrayed his piqued interest. “That’s sweet and all, but what’re you doing here?”

Shouto’s gaze drags to his older brother. Touya doesn’t appear perturbed by his inexpressive face, nor his stubborn silence. Mismatched eyes, azure surrounded by old scar tissue. His mothers face, her lips and the slope of her nose. They really are reflections of each other, in many ways.

“I need permission to come see my friends now?”

Touya’s nose flares and his jaw ticks in irritation. “I didn’t come empty handed,” Shouto continues. You hadn’t noticed the takeout bag held against his front until he offered it to you. “Have you eaten? I bought udon on the way”.

“I could eat,” Touya says.

You stretch across the boards to take the bag, “It’s my udon”.

His mouth thins as he cranes his chin, looking down his nose at you as he says, “Maybe it’s for me too”.

“Is not,” you stare stubbornly at Touya, shielding the food to your chest with one arm and side-hugging Shouto with the other. A warm puff of breath skims your collarbone as he laughs.

“Please don’t flirt in front of me”.

“You wouldn’t know flirting if it hit you over the head with a crowbar,” Touya deflects haughtily. “Whatever. Hand that over”.

You whirl past him to step off the ice, valiantly trying to keep the bag out of reach on principle. When you’re seated on the bleachers, Shouto to your left and Touya on the right, you unpack the contents and realise—to the latters smug satisfaction—that yes, Shouto had brought two containers of udon.

Shouto appears content to simply be there, chin propped on the handle of his crutch, watching you both eat with a small smile. The conversation is slow and pleasant as you eat, steering from genial small talk about the weather to sarcastic quips about your rinkmates.

You pinch your chopsticks around the thick noodles and inhale the tangy-sweet scent of oyster sauce, “Is Bakugo still peacocking around you?”

Bakugo Katsuki—another prodigal solo skater and unwilling friend—had been making a point of practicing quads whenever Shouto was around. While the intention might’ve been to gloat while Shouto is unable to skate, it instead came across like a hilariously aggressive mating dance.

“He’s not peacocking. He’s just…”

“Peacocking,” Touya repeats with feeling. “Admit it”.

Shouto’s mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “What about the show—are the students excited? Eri-chan was, last I saw of her”.

“Don’t change the subject. But yeah,” you smile as memories sift through your thoughts. A mass of red, runny noses bundled up in sweaters and gloves, their bright eyes staring back with enthusiasm. “They’re really excited. It’s no national competition but—”

“It is to them,” Touya cuts in pointedly. The smile slips and you blink owlishly at him. “The show will be the deciding factor for a lot of them, if they want to keep skating or not. It’s equally as important”.

“I—I know,” you assure him, feeling a little ashamed for having made light of it, albeit unintentionally. “We’ve started on the rhythm elements,” you continue hesitantly as Touya acquiesces. “Picking the music has been a nightmare”.

“Their step sequences suck,” Touya interjects. You give him an incredulous look. Seemed his compassion ran dry quickly. “What? They do,” he argues, “Eri and Kota aren’t syncing. Every time she tries to skate closer the kid pulls away”.

“It isn’t a technical issue. They just… struggle to maintain their connection, before, during, and after an element is performed… is all”.

“That’s a problem,” Shouto says. “On the ice you’re one entity. It’s important to convey that feeling of unity”.

“Yes. Thank you, Shouto,” you sigh, choosing to ignore Touya’s muffled snort. “It’ll work out in the end. Kota just has a crush Eri-chan, so he’s being awkward”.

Shouto gives a noncommittal hum. “You two seem to do fine though”.

In that instant the weight of Touya’s gaze is intense. You close your eyes, suppressing the urge to put your head between your knees. An exasperated breath promptly swelled out to the limits of your ribcage. Sheer mortification. You glare at Shouto who merely tips his head, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in amusement, not in the least bit sorry.

“Well obviously. They’re children,” you clear your throat, ducking to concentrate on finishing your meal. “I miss Fuyumi. The men in your family are impossible”.

Neither Todoroki brother reacts. “Don’t lump poor Natsu in with us like that,” Shouto says coolly.

The hot takeout tray cradled in your arms does little to soothe the restlessness of your heart as Touya drapes along the back of the bench and smirks. He looks like he’s waiting for an odalisque to feed him grapes. Instead he shovels the last of his noodles into his mouth and sucks them through puckered lips. The strand flicks him on the nose.

“Our kids will do fine as well,” he says after swallowing. You temper a smile at the use of our, your embarrassment dissipating as Shouto’s comment is left unquestioned. He picks at the last of his food with his chopsticks, pinching and letting them go. “That Kota brat just needs to remember where to put his hands”.

“How about the costumes?”

“We don’t have music sorted yet. Now you want to talk about costumes?”

“Yes. I think you should wear glitter, Touya-nii”.

“Touya-nii,” Touya mocks with a distasteful scowl. “I can’t pull glitter off like you, Prince Shouto. Forget it”.

“An androgynous look would work well. You’re prettier than you think, Touya,” you cut in over their bickering. Touya baulks, flustered. “But we’re not in the ice show, so talking about it is pointless”.

“Well, the giftbox costumes are simple enough”.

“You’re making them wear boxes?” Shouto gives you both a flat look. Touya’s mouth pulls into a wicked grin.

“Only a few of them,” he shrugs. “The elves, Santa and his wife will need a little more detail—what the hell is his wife’s name, anyway?”

You tip back against the bench in thought. The soft hair on his forearm tickles your nape and you fight the urge to jerk away, not wanting to bring attention to the contact and subsequently lose it. “Depends on the adaptation I guess. Heard once that her name is Gertrude,” you reply.

“Gertrude?” Shouto echoes, his English stilted around the unfamiliar name.

“Shit. Guess that’s why she never uses it,” Touya grimaces, tucking the chopsticks inside the empty tray and wiping his mouth. “You done eating?”

Shouto, sensing the opportunity, rights his posture and asks, “Could we get a minute alone?”

You give Touya a once-over to gauge his reaction; outline his profile, trace the line of his cheekbone back to the pierced shell of his ear, glinting amongst his unruly white hair. When his eyes flicker to yours you scramble to look away. “I’ll go throw these out,” he replies, shoving the empty takeout containers back in the bag and getting to his feet. “You’ve got two”.

Purposeful silence hangs thick over the bench. “I actually came today to apologise,” Shouto murmurs once his older brother is a distance away. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you that I made up my mind. I knew you’d want me to give it more thought if I did”.

You hook your thumb into the cuff of your skate as you allow his apology to linger longer than necessary. Enough that he squirms a bit. “You get how bad that sounds, yeah?”

“I know. I didn’t want to hurt you but I didn’t want to be convinced otherwise either,” Shouto concedes, taking the seat beside you. A weight settles on your shoulder, slanting where he rests his head. His hair is silky against your cheek. “I wouldn’t be upset if you took another partner next season”.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to compete without you”.

“Well. You seem happy working with Touya. You two really do skate well together,” he wrinkles his nose then, “I always imagined you would. Especially after you told me you like him—”

“I was drunk—on whisky highballs!”

“—and wanted to work with him. You have that chance now”.

You sigh and rub your cheek against his crown. The smell of tea tree and mint fills your senses. “But what about you, Shouto?”

For a long, long time ice dancing had been the one thing Shouto picked for himself. His father wanted him to compete on the ice, but he hated doing it alone, and he hated carrying Enji’s legacy. Ice dance was, in many ways, a tool for Shouto to forge his own path with you alongside him.

“Skating has been my life for as long as I can remember. I’ve pushed people away. Declined dates. Forgotten birthdays. Missed holidays,” Shouto eventually replies. “These few months away have been… jarring. Like I came back to Earth and found out the world had been carrying on without me”.

The finality of it leaves a lump in your throat. You sniffle and indulge the urge to hug him. Shouto melts into your embrace, his hand splayed at your back. It is comfortable, comforting. When you part it’ll be as though you were walking on different sides of the same street. Not far, but a parting all the same.

Shouto leaned in and you found yourself mirroring the position reflexively. “Is it different?” he asks, hushed as if talking about something taboo. “Skating with Touya, I mean”.

Flashes of the past few weeks filter through your thoughts. Of warm, rough hands on your hips. Of his mouth by your ear. Of bodies intertwined, synergies flowing. You cover your face and sigh, “I feel like I’m going to develop cardiac arrhythmia”.

“It’s that good?”

“Don’t make it sound weird! And he’s coming back so—quiet”.

The understanding noise he makes does little to comfort you. Touya raises a brow at the smug look on his brother's face but generously, says nothing.

Shouto slinks away soon after the cold starts to agitate his injuries. Eventually you find yourselves on the ice together again. You run through yet another set of twizzles at Touya’s stroppy instruction, rotating on one foot with hard-earned grace. He mimics your attempt. He manages two before dropping his left leg.

“Remember to shift from ball to heel”.

“Fuck,” Touya hisses, his blade hitting the ice with a whip-like crack. You turn in place and raise a brow at his thunderous face. He was adamant about practicing step and turn sequences after a passing comment from Shouto about its difficulty.

“You keep positioning your other leg too far back. It throws your weight off,” he eyes your hands with suspicion as you get closer, poised to reach for him “Twizzles are hard. When I first attempted a double my body seized up and I fell. Bruised the entire right side of my ribs,” you admit sheepishly, hoping it would at least make his own failures seem smaller in comparison.

“It shouldn’t be this hard. I’ve been doing axels since I could walk,” Touya insists. He sounds almost hurt, and you stand to wonder if the only thing he inferred from your words was ‘you can’t do it’.

You understand his frustration. You are hardly a stranger to the desire to succeed. You know Touya, too; know how he built his entire life in pursuit of the summit. But while Touya has been striving toward his goal with renewed vigor, you've spent the past two months learning how it feels to desire in a whole new way—to want so badly that it hurts.

“Give yourself some grace,” you shake your head with an exasperated smile and you glide toward the boards. “You’ll get it down eventually”.

He remains in the centre of the rink and raises his voice as the distance yawns wider, “Yeah, yeah. I got it”.

“Are you staying longe—?” the call thrown over your shoulder as you step off the ice halts midway. The hem of Touya’s shirt has risen beneath the wide movement of his arms. You’re drawn to the swath of bare skin—physically unable to unglue your eyes from Touya’s lower back as he attempts another step sequence. You frown, having not noticed it before, "Is that KT tape?”

Touya had two bands of athletic tape parallel to each other on his back, the pale blue contrasted against his skin. “Sometimes. Increases my range of motion,” he reaches around to peel them off, then rolls the strips in his palm before shoving them in his sweatpant pocket. “Skin grafts messed with my flexibility. You know that”.

“I… do, yeah”. You did. Yet the information never stuck, because Touya always worked so hard you never would’ve thought he was suffering. “Ignore me, sorry. Are you staying behind, or?”

“Nah. Let me do another lap,” his voice reverberates around the rink, volume rippling with his continuous awkward rotations. “Go on. I’ll meet you out front and walk you to the bus”.

The light scrape of his skates remains inordinately loud now that everybody is gone. You drag a cloth over your blades before snapping on the guards and heading to the changing rooms. You take off your skates and do a few light stretches before washing up. The satisfying burn in your muscles dwindles as they relax and fatigue sets in; lately they’re so sore you’re sure they’ll slough off the bone.

After slipping into a clean pair of leggings and your loosest hoodie you hoist your sports bag up and cross the strap over your chest. Your phone vibrates with a notification from Nejire asking how you’ve been. You reply as you shrug on your bag and head out toward the entrance, stopping to duck into Aizawa’s office.

“Hey, Aizawa-sensei. We’ll be heading out no… oh,” you falter when you look up from the screen to find another skater seated across from Aizawa. “Hey, Midoriya! Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I should’ve knocked”.

Izuku waves back and forth at your apology. “No, no! It’s okay I just came by to say hi,” he demurred, hand then fluttering to rub the back of his neck. He glances at Aizawa. “I’m just leaving, actually. Want to head out together?”

It’s a surprise to see him, though not an unpleasant one. You could’ve sworn he was away to partake in a skate exhibition. In that fraction of a second you wrack your mind for the date, the place, and when it clicks you try not to grimace. It had been over a week ago. The knowledge makes obvious what an absent friend you’ve been.

You smile softly, hoping he can see the apology in it. “Sure. I’d like that,” you tell him. “I’m actually meeting Touya at the reception. Just warning you”.

“Touya-san isn’t that bad,” his grin widens as he stands. Still boyish in a way he’ll probably never shed. You linger in the doorway while he bows to bid Aizawa goodbye and you wonder if he had even realised your lapse in memory.

Your eyes catch a flash of colour. His signature bright red skates are hooked on his backpack. They knock together when he walks. “So, tell me. How was the exhibition?” you playfully nudge his side as he falls in line with you. At the mention a stroke of pink spreads across his cheeks.

“It was really fun, and so different from competing. The choreography was amazing—and the lights. I couldn’t believe how coordinated everything was!” he rambles, brushing the mossy hair atop his head back and frowning when it flops back over his eyes.

You shove your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see it,” your fingers fiddle along the inner seams. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner, too”.

Izuku’s confused expression smooths into a familiar exasperated fondness. “You sound like Shouto. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I know you’ve been busy with Touya-san,” he teases, as though to remind you of that fact. “Ochako took a bunch of pictures. I’ll show you them next time I’m here, or—I can send them to you?”

“I’m still sorry. But thank you. I’d love to see them,” you concede to his kind insistence. Guided by a surge of affection for your friend you loop your arm through his and Izuku slows his stride. “So, gold medalist Midoriya Izuku, where are you heading off to next?”

The flush across his cheeks deepens, but he doesn’t appear flustered, and he doesn’t pull away. Izuku has long outgrown his childhood aversion to touch. You recall how wooden he once was, never knowing where to place his hands, how tight to squeeze or how long to linger. Now he takes it in his stride—actually, he’s something of a fiend for it.

“I’m meeting Kacchan. He actually picked this place,” he says, with just as gleeful as he had been while talking about the exhibition. You smile reflexively at the laughter jostling his shoulders, “It’s called ‘Mean Mug’!”

“Sounds like the perfect place for Bakugo”.

“Right?”

Interlinked, you pivot the next corner and wander into the open space. The receptionist desk is empty, as expected, and Touya is waiting by the entrance. What almost stops you in your tracks is the sight of Takami Keigo.

Touya’s eyes find yours across the threshold, pleading. They harden as they flicker to Izuku. He wrinkles his nose, ignoring whatever Keigo is saying, and Izuku tenses. You squeeze his forearm and try not to laugh. “What happened to ‘he’s not that bad’?” you ask under your breath.

“That was when we had one foot between us,” Izuku whispers. He raises his voice to greet the other men with surety as you close the distance, “Touya-san, Takami-san, it’s good to see you!”

“If it isn’t the wonder boy. You did well at the exhibition. The reviews were pouring in,” Keigo drawls, patting Izuku’s shoulder. The younger skater preens. Keigo’s attention turns to you. An amused smile stole over his features as he punctuated the syllables of your name, a flirty lilt to his tone. “You’re a sight for sore eyes”.

You unlatch your arm from Izuku’s and come to stand at Touya’s side. “Hawks,” you make reference to his stage name, equal parts amused and ruffled. “How’s the season going?”

A lazy smirk hangs on his lips. He rocks on his heels. “As expected. I was just tellin’ Touya I’ll be taking it easy until the NHK Trophy,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “But enough about me”.

“That’s a rare sentence,” you heard Touya mutter. You bite the inside of your cheek and elbow him in the side, hard.

“There’s a noticeable gap now that you and Shouto aren’t competing, y’know,” Keigo pats Touya’s shoulder, firm enough to not be shrugged off. “Are you planning on coming back, or are you stuck here with him now?”

“I’m perfectly happy where I am,” you answer, before Touya can interject with vitriol that’ll likely get you kicked out. He’s physically bristling at your side.

Keigo scrutinizes you for a second longer. “Blink if you need help,” he squints. You smile back, unblinking, and he releases a noise of surrender, hands held out palms up. “Alright, I’ll bite. I can’t stick around much longer. Midoriya, which way you headed?”

You’re too preoccupied with assessing Touya to eavesdrop on their friendly small talk. “Sorry I took so long,” you tell him. “Hope you didn’t suffer too badly”.

“I won’t forgive you,” Touya leans needlessly close to your ear. You tear at the fabric of your hoodie from the confines of the front pocket and suppress a shiver.

“Ah, lucky lucky! I’ll give you a ride,” you hear Keigo announce, leaving no room for rejection. Izuku deflates slightly, moreso in surrender than actual dismay. You offer him a sympathetic nod.

“We’ll see you retired lovebirds some other time,” Keigo throws out a two finger salute. Izuku motions to hug you, but as his gaze crosses Touya he decides to redirect the awkward flight path of his hand to your bicep and squeezes.

“It was really good seeing you again. Tell Shouto to text me—we can catch up,” he says, wearily glancing to your left. “I’ll see you!”

Keigo corrals him away with a distinct cackle.

“Lovebirds,” you echo dumbly. Touya’s presence moves away like the sun being blocked out. “Where are you—hey!”

The doors slide open to a street lined with camphor trees. Long shadows are cast across the concrete. Stepping into the crisp evening air, you can’t help but appreciate the apricity that kisses your face.

Touya walked onward, rubbed at his mottled cheek and stifled a yawn, arms stretching above his head. The faint bumps left where his skin grafts had been stitched together all those years ago pulled taut.

Stubbornly, you do not want to part ways yet.

“Y’know, the winter fair isn’t far from here,” you managed to say, scrambling for a reasonable excuse to prolong his departure. “They even put the little rink out with the fake penguins and everything this year. You wanna go?”

“Yeah. Great idea. Let's go and do what we do every single day,” Touya replies, with enough sarcasm that you have to look again and check whether he’s joking or annoyed. The tendon along his neck strains under his thin lipped smile. Annoyed, then.

“Just a thought. You don’t need to be such a dick about it,” you mumble, hearing how your voice goes tight despite your efforts. His jaw works in your periphery, like he’s trying to dig out the words he needs from between his teeth.

Touya sighs. The fight drains from him and in one swift motion he snatches your hand to thread your fingers together. Your palms kiss, clasped tight. You feel your heart kick in your chest. “Fucking—alright. Get that look off your face,” he conceded in an unexpectedly gentle voice. Your attention snaps toward him, but he has already schooled his expression back to resignation.

The winter fair is far from difficult to find. At the mouth is a narrow space covered by a canopy of twinkling lights, washing the darkening surroundings in a bright starlight glow. Stalls are lined either side, painted in shades of red and green, displaying various homemade crafts and street food. Your attention to the surroundings waned, returning again and again to Touya, sneaking furtive glances as he roved the market. You felt a surge of pride at the gleam in his eye, counting his ease as a small victory.

“Let’s get tamagoyaki,” you suggest excitedly. “Oh, or hot chocolate?”

“Are you twelve?”

You point at a display in the distance. What appears to be a rendition of a sentient mug of hot chocolate, topped with whip cream hair and marshmallows. In its cartoonish hand is a liquor bottle, “They can put rum in it”.

That earns his unspoken approval. Touya herds you toward the tinsel-covered stall in lieu of a response. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and your breathless laughter is light enough to get lost in the smooth notes. He orders the drinks, and while you’re distracted by the hot takeout cup thrust into your hands, he pays too. Kind of like a date, your traitorous mind whispers. In a leisurely daze, you allow the crowd to guide you both deeper into the belly.

Touya’s defenses lower with every sip and appreciative hum, tongue loose enough to speak about the life he leads away from the rink. You find him easier to talk to like this, this softer, relaxed version of Touya, stripped of all tension, purpose and sharp edges. “I still can’t believe you actually know him, though”.

Touya rolls his eyes skyward, seeking patience, and you wonder how often he has to hear that line. “He’s just some guy,” he says. “And a pain in my ass”.

“He’s Shimura Nana’s grandson. The first woman to ever land a triple axel!”

“Old news,” he pinched his brow in a delicate mocking gesture. “You were all cosy with Mighty Yagi’s protege less than an hour ago but you’re excited about Tenko? He doesn’t even skate”.

Heat rushes to your face. “Midoriya is—I was not cosy! He’s Shouchan’s best friend,” you argue before clusmily amending your words, “Shouchan’s other best friend”.

“Right,” Touya snorts.

Wisps of steam roll over the rim as you sip. The spiked hot chocolate slides down the back of your throat, warming you from the inside out. You watch the bob of his throat as he tips his cup back and swallows. Discarding it in the nearby bin, he motions for you to do the same. “C’mon. You’re the one that wanted to skate more”.

“We don’t have to if you’re that bothered”.

“I’m not bothered. I just don’t get why you’d want to”.

Because it’s you. “It’s for the novelty of it!”

The bickering continues on your journey to the skating rink. You give it a once over, then a second take, discerning whether it is even made of ice. The surface is murky and scratched beyond recognition.

“Here. Good luck tying those things,” Touya deposits a pair of rental skates into your arms with an air of disdain before grabbing his own. “If I strain my ankle tonight I’ll kill you”.

“You’d miss me too much” you bump his shoulder to distract from your own racing heart. The corner of his eyes crinkle, betraying his harsh leer.

Cut-out frames have been fixed around the nearby benches, cardboard pillars have been wrapped in more fairy lights, giving the feel of an enclosed space. “Cute. Like our very own kiss and cry,” you say, bending to shove your feet into the skates and grumble when the tendon guard digs unnaturally into your calf.

“This is a cardboard box”.

You tighten your laces too tight after a spark of agitation. “Could you suspend your disbelief for five minutes?”

“No,” Touya rises and stomps to settle into his boots. He inclines his head toward the rink. “Let’s go,” and he gestures for you to take his hand again while looking elsewhere. You smile shyly and take it.

As suspected the ice is miles from ideal for skating—not that the general public would notice. You feel the difference the second your blade meets the surface and your instincts kick in. Simultaneously too soft and too rough. The thin indents catch as you glide ahead, fist enclosed to retain the sensation of Touya’s fingers.

You can sense his focused gaze on your lazy motions like kerosene and after a few laps he dashes ahead, following the parameter, a lithe slip of moonlight. It makes known an unwarranted hollow in your chest. There’s nothing to be wanted or missed and yet your arms felt empty, hungry. Pushing against your skates you strive to keep pace.

You wanted him to keep looking at you. To see an equal in you. You suppose that’s a quality you shared.

In your distraction you’d failed to notice the crowd gathering outside the rink. Awareness creeps the length of your spine. People are holding up their phones filming the pair of you and you’re hardly skating anything groundbreaking.

Touya relishes it.

“You’ve skated in front of tens of thousands of people but a few dozen spectators is what gets you scared?” he flashes a smarmy grin. His skates carry him closer. Rough hands take you by the hips, fingers kneading slowly towards the middle of your back, spreading outwards as if wanting to canvas more of you. The tiny hairs on your nape stand endwise as his voice deepens, “Wanna make it a show worth their while?”

You suck a sharp breath and your toe pick catches on the uneven surface, almost throwing you off balance. He steadies you, tips his head back and laughs.

You remain markedly clumsy as a pair, in a drawing outside of the lines sort of way. There’s no music yet at some point you fall into a familiar sequence and Touya fights to match you. It’s as though your inhibitors have been loosened; you often find yourself getting carried away with the routine. Any judge would think you were an over excited novice. But it’s exhilarating. It’s—fun. Fun in a way it hasn’t been in a long time.

Your bodies came flush together in a final grand movement. Close enough to mimic the rapid rise and fall of Touya’s chest as though it were your own. You spend a few scant moments staring at each other as you catch your breath. Taking in the atmosphere, the proximity you’d never been afforded until now. Blood has risen in Touya’s cheeks and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes are full of a childlike excitement you haven’t seen in years.

“Did you mean what you said?”

You regain your bearings, “What?”

“About being happy with what you’re doing now,” he clarifies. Your mouth parts in soft surprise, and he grows tense in the seconds it takes to form an answer.

“Without Shouto I might never return to competing and I’ve mostly made peace with that reality,” the tightening in your chest made it clear just how true those words were. You smile then, “Helping you with the kids, it’s… I feel like I’ve won all there is to win. Is that stupid?”

Years ago you used to watch Touya skate and think there probably wasn’t a person in the world whose depth and intensity of feeling matched his loneliness. You would wonder how he survived it—

Above, the lights emphasise the shadows of his scars. Maps of lines, intricate furrows, beginnings and endings, tangible proof that he had changed and grown.

—you know now, having received your own fill, how he found himself surrounded by love with no idea how he came to acquire it.

“No. Maybe a little,” Touya answered. You think he’s the only man to exist that can make a leer appear fond.

A camera flash goes off. A couple dozen more.

“That’s probably not good,” you point out, though you’re struggling to find it within yourself to care. “They’ll have my name in Skatebuzz again. Aizawa will kill us”.

“I can see the headlines now. Prospective Olympian’s disgraced brother steals his partner away,” Touya’s vindictive mirth ghosts over your lips, fleeting and hesitant, “…can’t wait”.

Your blood sings, rising to the surface of your skin to meet him. You looked at him in such a way, like he couldn’t wait to—kiss you. A barely audible exhale asks, “What’re you doing?”

He slides a hand up the curve of your throat, thumb pressed to your pulse. “What does it look like?”

The restraint drains away.

You clutch at the front of his shirt as he sips at your mouth. It’s far too indulgent to be chaste, and when you pull away—barely an inch—to look at him, his eyes are already half lidded and watching you, close enough to count his lashes, pale as they fan over his cheeks.

A raucous applause thunders in your ears.

But the reverential murmur of your name is that much louder.

TO THE RINK AND BACK: TODOROKI TOUYA’S ROMANTIC RETURN? Skatebuzz - 13 December 20XX - 10:05

Todoroki Touya, once a favoured national champion, skates publicly for the first time since the career ending accident that left him permanently scarred. But he was not spotted alone. Lips locked with Todoroki Shouto’s former partner, the skating community are buzzing at the possibility of his return…

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader

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hash1ras · 8 months

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☆ suguru geto hcs

geto x gn!reader, modern au

suguru inspired playlist here ♡

☆ loves to lay down in bed between your thighs while you play with his hair, usually ends up with him falling asleep within minutes

☆ huge stoner (this one is canon srry i dont make the rules)

☆ collects vinyl, he has hundreds of records and loves to share his music with you (one of the first times you hung out, you both smoked joints and laid on his floor for hours just listening to music and talking)

☆ you got matching tattoos for your one year anniversary, you picked the design (barbed wire hearts) his is on the left side of his chest<3

☆ he's a skater, if he's not with you, which is 90% of the time, he's at the skatepark with gojo and shoko. (geto just gives sleepy stoner skater boy vibes)

☆ loves to read!! has a new book every other day, loves to give you recs of books he loves and sometimes you two will just lay on the couch reading for hours. its the quiet, peaceful moments you share that geto loves more than anything

☆ he's heavily tattooed and pierced. besides the stretched ears, he has multiple ear piercings and his nose. also has sleeves on both arms, legs and his entire back ♡ swoooooooon ♡

☆ he's always so calm and patient with you, will listen to you talk about anything and everything and offer you support, literally the perfect partner

☆ starts every morning with a cup of black coffee and a cigarette, he always makes a cup for you

☆ loves to kiss your forehead and palms of your hands<33333

requests are open!# ♡

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on-leatheredwings · 20 days

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Intro Post: PARIS ♡ the femboy! yandere (pinboard) tw: dark themes, somno mention

Written Content: (coming soon)

Intensity: 4/10. MILD. As a yandere at all, he is of course enamored with you. He gets easily riled about you, but unlikely to injure, heavily drug, or be violent with you. He would get violent with others if needed, but prefers to publicly humiliate his rivals. His obsession mainly presents through excessive quality time, manipulation and mildly assaulting you in your sleep. Age: mid or late 20s. He's a Libra. Gender: Cisgender male. Pronouns are he/him, though he will answer to she/her (and later correct that individual). He enjoys when you call him princess, though. And only you. Sexuality: There's a lot of speculation on the internet, but he seems to prefer women. Occupation: Paris is an American Olympic-level figure skater, and will likely retire after the next Olympic Games. He's not quite an internet personality, but his online popularity gets him a lot of brand deals.

General appearance: Paris is of Russian descent. He is relatively pale, with straight, mousy brown hair that reaches just above the waist. His eyes are brown. His lips are small, heart shaped and usually glossed. He is lean, but due to his sport, he does have a level of muscle tone greater than the average person. Paris is 180 centimeters tall (~5’10) with model-like proportions. His ears are pierced. Fashion sense: See board. Fond of hyper-feminine clothing, Paris’s wardrobe is an eclectic blend of coquette, gyaru, and figure skater fashion. Often wears pink, white, pastel blue or black. His clothes aren’t very revealing – he is quite fond of layering shirts and cardigans. He actually doesn’t wear skirts that often, opting more often for leggings. Paris wears false lashes often, and wears light, feminine makeup. Paris does wear masculine clothing, though only when he isn’t expecting to be photographed or seen in public. As a male figure skater, on the rink, he is expected to ‘tone it down’ with the makeup and keep his hair tied back. During competitions and photoshoots, he presents more masculine, though still quite androgynous. His skating outfits possess a feminine flair.

Personality: Paris is fun-loving, boisterous, and goes through life like nothing phases him. (A facade, to be sure.) Paris strikes others as easy-going and snarky, but is pretty observant and manipulative. He definitely plays into his 'feminine wiles' schtick to get what he wants. However friendly he appears, Paris doesn't tolerate disrespect, and enjoys fighting fire with fire. He definitely enjoys humiliating people who cross him, and especially when they cross you. Paris is no stranger to off-color and lewd jokes, but would stop if you disapproved. Paris is notably much sweeter when talking to you. Romantically, Paris had a bit of a rotating door until you caught his eye. Within celebrity circles, he's kind of regarded as a player. He wasn't unkind to women... he just moved on fast, often bored. Which is something that does not seem to be happening with you. ♡

Bonus: Paris is really popular online! He's witty and pretty tuned into current social media trends. He's streamed on Twitch multiple times just for fun, and is always bombarded with gifts. None of his fans' love matters as much as you do, though. He appeals to younger, queer people especially.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere fic #femboy yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #mine #pariscore #intro post #theres actually so much more to say but lets keep it short here #his past. his need for found family. dear god #please look at the pinterest board i tried very hard

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shopwitchvamp · 2 months

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The skirts:

The music rec:

youtube

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penelopepine · 16 days

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Little Purple Stars

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly.

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?”

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot.

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.”

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant.

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds.

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch.

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.”

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!”

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.”

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken.

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him.

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open.

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him.

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two.

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!”

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!”

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal.

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates?

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost.

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star.

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart.

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you.

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #fem reader #soulmates #john soap mctavish x reader

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baeshijima · 28 days

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as if i dont have enough wips to think abt, the thought of figure skater!blade is in my head....

like,,,, just imagine him in the figure skating attire, in a form-hugging black muscle tee which flatters his physique and grey sweats during practice, in a pretty black or navy body shirt with matching slim-fit trousers — should there be any accessories other than his signature mismatch pair of earrings, it would consist of gold trimmings and crimson accents for small, intricate detailings, sometimes a few sequins or crushed jewels would be added depending on the genre of performance.

(oftentimes he will silently revel in your awe at each of his new costumes, his confidence boosting at your approval. if you're there to watch his practice in the rink, he will go the extra mile to show off in hopes of impressing you. if no one else is occupying the rink, he will skate his way over to you before taking your hand, pulling you along with him after getting you into your own pair of skates, his hand entangled with yours as he gently spins you into his arms. he doesn't let go of you; if you fall and tumble onto the ice, then he will gladly go down with you if it means he can still hold you.)

imagine him with his hair in differing styles; sometimes he will leave it loose and flowy, other times he will have it styled in a half-bun or ponytail. during competitions he will have a hair ornament more often than not, one which compliments his chosen costume and genre, with fans wondering how secure it must be to not fall out with all the jumps and spins he does.

(if you ask, he will let you play and fiddle with his hair. he finds himself relaxing at your slightest of touch, the tenseness of his muscles melting away from your warmth, scent, and laughter. sometimes he will ask for you to be the one who styles his hair before a competition, proudly wearing the hair ornament and style you yourself chose for him. if anything, he finds himself performing better when there is a remnant of you with him out on the rink.)

imagine him in a big puffer jacket, his mask-covered face tucked behind the collar with his hands stuffed into the pockets as he makes his way to the venue. it is all-white with black trimmings and stops just below his knees. there's not a moment where he isn't seen without it — as he walks to the venue, as he waits for his turn to come up, as he goes about in public, as he sits in the 'kiss and cry' awaiting his score from the judges, as he slouches against his chair in the changing room before and after his performance; the only time he is seen without his signature puffer jacket is when he is on the rink.

(blade likes the sight of you in his clothes, his puffer jacket in particular. he likes the way it swallows you in your entirety, the way your eyes shine and laughter tinkles with delight makes his heart swell when showing him how far past your hands the sleeves go, and the way both your conjoined hands easily fit inside his pocket, to name a few. but most of all, blade likes the way your scent lingers on the fabric, eventually developing a habit of burying his nose along the inside collar to bask in what remains when you can't be with him pre-competition. in those moments, he makes a mental reminder to have you wear it again so that your lingering perfume can refresh.)

yeah... figure skater!blade.....

#blade in a muscle tee never fails to do smth to me like i need that image OUT of my head but it refuses to go #i want to write a full longfic of this au.... oh no.......#someone sedate me. pls. i cant handle this anymore.#sophie talks : concepts <3 #blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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anama-cara · 3 months

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swipe right

Rhysand x reader drabble

Summary: After matching on a dating app, you meet Rhysand at your local café for a 1st date. It does not go how you expected. Word count: 2.2k Drabble. AU. Set in the real world. Descriptions of reader’s clothing only. Use of y/n.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving)

You’re sitting in a booth with your back against the wall, facing the door. He’s late. You swirl your cup of coffee in front of you. You know you should have waited for him to order, but you felt bad taking up a table and not ordering anything. You dressed up a bit for your date, but not too much. You don’t want to appear like you’re trying too hard, or be over dressed if he wears something really casual. You wear a black skater skirt and a light blue sweater with a silver pendant.

Did you just get stood up? You stare at your cup, only a third left. The bell above the door jingles and you look up. The world seems to go quiet and you stare. He’s freaking gorgeous. Darkness seems to ripple out of him. The people chatting around you go quiet for a second. Tall dark and handsome would be an understatement, you think to yourself. You blink and avert your eyes before he can catch you staring. The talking around you starts up again. My gosh he is unbelievably attractive. He was handsome in his profile picture sure, but the photo was a bit farther away and kinda grainy, this… him… Your heart is beating embarrassingly fast.

He glances around the café and his eyes land on you. Your stomach flutters at the eye contact made. He grins and you began to feel that flutter a little lower. He approaches your table, smoothly. So smooth. He moves silently, full of ease and grace.

“Y/N?”

You have to clear your throat before saying, “Yes, nice to finally meet you in person.”

He drags the chair out from the table and takes a seat across from you. You watch him as he moves and gulp. You watch his hands as he grips the chair, broad and strong, watch the muscles flex in his forearms. His arms were tanned and muscled, his biceps tight under his charcoal short sleeved t-shirt. The shirt also graciously showed off his broad shoulders and chest. You knew underneath there hid a very toned abdomen. You said a silent thank you to the shirt. He wore black jeans and black boots to complete the look. Peeking out underneath his shirt collar you could see whispers of a dark flowing tattoo that swept across his chest. It wound around his biceps too. You had never really been a fan of tattoos but suddenly it seemed like the most attractive thing in the world. That is, until you looked up and met his eyes as he sat down as gazed at you, smiling broadly.

�� Shit.

You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you felt a tug between your legs. His eyes were violet. Impossible. He had violet eyes that seemed to dance in the light. You stared until you realized you were being rude and blinked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed your awe. He did. His devilish grin grew.

“Hello darling”

Oh fuuuuck. That velvet voice. You were in trouble alright.

“Nice to meet you too. This is a charming little place you picked,” he says casually, glancing around the café. He looks back to you. “Cozy,” he says with a wink. A flirt.

He noticed your already half drunk cup of coffee and frowns. “I’m sorry I was late. A friend of mine, Cass, was in a tight spot and I had to help him out.”

You realize you haven’t spoken a word yet. You were too enthralled with his beauty. You shake your head ever so slightly and ask calmy, “Oh no worries. Is your friend okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied with a cocky smile. “He’s just one of those friends that sometimes does stuff without thinking and trouble always seems to follow them.”

Just then the waitress arrives and stands next to him to take his order. Very close to him. He gives he order quickly – coffee. Black.

“Thank you,” he says as she writes it down. His voice is polite and quiet. Not at all like the flirtatious tone he had just been using moments ago, despite the waitress flashing smiles and batting her eyelashes, giving all the obvious signals like you’re invisible. You clear your throat. She throws you a glare before leaving.

“You look beautiful.” Now his tone is respectful. Sincere. You hide your blush.

What a flirt. But it was working.

“Thank you.” You give a little laugh. “You look beautiful too.” He smiles at your compliment.

You chat back and forth about all the normal first date stuff: where you both grew up, what you studied in school, what your favorite book was, what kind of music you listened to. You got to know each other, sipping on coffee and giggling at his shameless flirting. Before you knew it two hours had gone by and the shop was closing.

“Where did you park?” he asks. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m behind the back and down the alley,” you give a shrug. “Free parking.”

He chuckles and stands from his chair, offering you a hand. You take it and he helps you up. He doesn’t let go of your hand. He leads you through the shop to the back door. As you pass the waitress you give her an overly sweet sarcastic smile.

Its late in the afternoon and the sky is a fading blue and the sun sinks into dusk. There’s a street lamp on the road, but the alley is mostly painted in shadows.

He stops and turns to face you. “I had a good time today. When can I see you again?” He’s still holding your hand.

Your mind is blank, he’s so much closer, there’s no table between you, no café full of other people. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by shadow in the still night and he is standing right in front of you, so very close. You could reach out and touch his face, you could…

His eyes move back and forth between your own. The slight anxiety he had from you not answering his question instantly vanishes and he clocks your expression. He takes a step forward, closing the space between you. Your hand floats upwards on its own accord and reaches out to cup his jaw. Your eyes never leave his own and you still look dazed. He smiles to himself and takes another step. You instinctively follow his lead, stepping backwards until your back is pressed against the cold alley wall. He lets go of you and cages you against the wall, hands pressed into the concrete on either side of your head. Your beautiful hand is still cupping his face and he leans into your touch closing his eyes a moment to relish in it. When he opens his eyes again you’re still gazing at him and your glossed lips are slightly parted. He lowers his head and leans in closer, whispering against your skin barely inches away.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod and close your eyes. He smiles and takes pauses, taking the image of you in, committing it to memory before he presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft and full as they move against yours, taking your breath away. You lift your head off the wall slightly, deepening the kiss. He reciprocates your eagerness and you part your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. Your hand that was resting on his jaw moves down, lightly sliding along the skin of his neck and collar bone to grip at his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. You hook one leg around his waist to pull his whole body against yours. Any tenderness in that kiss is gone and you are full on making-out. Your body grinds into his and you feel his body tense in response. What is wrong with you? You don’t do this on first dates. You don’t make out with people in dark alleyways. But he has some power of you, there’s just something about him that draws you in and won’t let go. All rational thoughts leave your head as your body takes over, focusing on the feel of his lips against yours, the muscles in his shoulder, the warmth of his body pressed to yours. His right hand drops from the wall and reaches for the leg you looped around him. He hikes your leg up and hold you, slowly running his hand up and down your thigh. Your skin tingles at his touch and you feel yourself getting wetter. His hand moves farther up your thigh and he skims the hem of skirt. He pulls back, gasping. You tilt your head back, leaning it against the wall for support.

“Can I- “

“Please” you immediately respond.

He smirks and leans forward to kiss you again. His hand moves all the way up your thigh, under your skirt and his thumb hooks the waistband of your lacy underwear. He slowly pulls them down, taking his time as his hand brushes against your skin. Not wanting them to fall on the dirty alley floor he tucks them into his back pocket. Maybe you’ll just let him keep them. Then his hand is back on you, gliding up, leaving a trail of electricity at the contact. His touch makes your skin come alive and you arch your back at the feeling.

Gently his fingers reach your core and he runs his middle finger up your seam. He groans into your mouth at the feeling of your wetness. It drags up and down a few times tantalizingly, then circles your entrance to gather slick before sliding back up to your clit. He flicks it then begins rubbing slow circles. You moan into his mouth as he plays with you. His finger glides back down and pushes into you, curling against your wall in the most wonderful way. You break the kiss as you tilt your head back into the wall, pressing against it as your back arches and your hips roll into his hand. He brings his lips to your chin that juts out, leaving a kiss before his open lips trail down your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. Your having trouble figuring out where to focus, his mouth or his hand. He presses his lips into the hollow of your throat then into the bit of cleavage visible above the V-neck collar of your sweater. He sucks on the soft flesh of your breast as he continues to slide his finger in and out of you. It feels so good and you let out a strangled little noise. His hand stills and leaves you to rest on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to yours and his lips leave your flesh.

“Are you sure?” He asks. His violet eyes are gleaming and eager.

You nod as you reach for his pants in response. You unbutton his jeans and look up to meet his eyes again as you slowly lower his zipper. He is completely still; you think he may even be holding his breath. Your fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans and boxers at his hips. With both hands you tug them down till they rest on his thighs. Even in the low lighting you can tell that his cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him. But he doesn’t give you any time to admire it. He leans you back against the wall again and hooks your leg back around him, holding just below your knee. He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back to wrap a large hand around his thick cock and guiding it into your entrance. He pauses there to read your eyes again before slowly pushing all the way into you. Once he is inside you, he breathes deeply. His hand brushes against your cheek affectionately before he places it back onto the wall. He shits his weight forward, leaning against his hand and thrusting even farther into you, pushing your own hips into the wall. He hits something deep inside you and you let out a moan. Spurred on by your sounds he pulls out halfway then thrusts back into you as he sets up a pace.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building.

“Rhysand I’m-“

“Me too darling.” He replies with a grunt as he deepens his movements.

And then you’re contracting around him, holding onto him as you ride your waves of pleasure. Your hand is squeezing his shoulder and your pussy is squeezing his cock as you cling to him. Just as you’re coming down you feel him quickly pull out. He strokes his cock and points it at the alley wall beside you but he sees you lift your skirt up and groans loudly as he spills on your lower stomach. It trickles down onto your mound and your sensitive core.

He lets out a shaky breath and leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, his cock pressed against your sticky stomach. You feel his chest rise and fall against yours and his hot breath on your back.

“Tomorrow. I’m free tomorrow.” You say and he laughs. It’s a bright, beautiful laugh and you smile underneath him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder then your lips.

“Good.”

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand drabble #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #rhys smut #rhysand smut #bat boys #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader smut

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wonustars · 11 months

Text

𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘼𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧

Part 1. | Soobin Vers. | Yeonjun Vers.

Summary: After an eventful study session with Beomgyu, you thought things between you would turn out well. Instead he’s not to be seen for two weeks. Leaving you confused and feeling rejected.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: enemies to lovers, jealous!beomgyu, jealous!reader, wolfcut!gyu, nonidol!au, university au, skater!gyu, fluff, angst, lots of arguing. (if i missed any warnings let me know)

Warnings: smut mdni! bigdick!gyu, dom!gyu, sub!reader, pet names, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, oral (f.receiving), fingering, spanking (f. receiving), cockwarming, multiple orgasms, praising and degrading.

Wordcount: 5876

It’s been exactly two weeks since you had last seen Beomgyu. After the eventful study session for your project, he had seemed to have fallen off the face of the Earth. He hadn’t even been spotted at the local skate park. And one thing about Beomgyu was that he was always there. Always. Loitering and fooling around with his other skater friends. A part of you felt a twang of disappointment. Did he regret sleeping with you that one time? Even though there was a consensus that you both had enjoyed it?

You’re reading your textbook, each line blurring into a jumble of nonsense. It has been hard to focus because of the confusion Beomgyu seems to have caused. You’ve been silently searching for him around campus hoping that he would randomly turn up. He hasn’t even been attending your shared biology class. Not that he even needed to, Beomgyu was naturally smart, infuriatingly enough.

You groan in annoyance, all these thoughts about your last hook-up with the person you thought you hated have become a nuisance. You haven’t been able to think straight since then, especially knowing that you have no clue how Beomgyu had felt after everything happened. Your textbook is now propped up on the table, covering you as you run your hands through your hair. A small habit that seemed to have intensified these last few weeks.

Deciding to finally give up on your lousy attempt to finish your homework, you get up to put back the textbook into its rightful place. Mentally cursing Beomgyu for causing you to not be able to think properly.

Your chair lightly scrapes the floor as you stand up to head to the bookshelves. The library has been your new designated study area. Not only is it quiet enough to keep you busy, but it is also the only spot on campus that doesn’t remind you of him. The smell of all the old books gave you a sense of comfort and there was enough natural light to keep you from going crazy. You especially enjoyed the way the rain would hit the windows, leaving a pitter-patter sound that lulled you into a perfect rhythm to study.

As you walk to the biology section of the library a flash of black and white hair catches your attention. You stop in your tracks and your heart plummets to the floor in mere seconds. You turn to look and low and behold it's the last person you had expected to see in your little sanctuary. He’s currently pressed up against a random girl, caging her between his tall frame and the bookshelf. Their faces connected, obnoxiously making out in a secluded corner. His long hair was still the same as you remembered. Long, soft and perfectly framing his face. You couldn’t help but stand there partly in shock and partly in disappointment. He’s been here this whole time? Maybe he was ignoring you. You never wanted to admit it to yourself because of the feeling it gave you, but now it seems like the only reasonable explanation.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, they stop their makeout session and Beomgyu turns and sees you staring at the two of them. He looks shocked, almost as if he’s been caught. Your eyes widen, and a cold sweat runs down the back of your neck. He pulls himself out of her grasp and is in the process of shouting your name. Before he could advance any further you quickly turn around abandoning your textbook onto the closest shelf. Your mind running a million miles an hour, and your body responding before you could think properly. At this point, you’re practically sprinting out of the library, and your speed causes a few students to turn their heads to look at you. You couldn’t care less, you just want to get out of there.

Beomgyu must’ve lost track of you because he’s nowhere to be seen at this point. Your hands are on your knees, trying your best to catch your breath. Your daily study session at the library has now made an unexpected turn. Thinking back to what you witnessed makes your heart ache with confusion and a little bit of jealousy. Even though Beomgyu isn't yours and he can fuck anybody he wanted, you still feel a bit of sorrow. You presumed something had changed between you two after that day, but you didn’t expect it to be a negative one.

Sighing in defeat you decide that this would be the last time that you were going to think about the stupid boy and his stupid highlights. Whatever, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, you thought. Wanting to exchange the feelings of rejection for anger, you stomp back to your apartment not wanting to continue reliving the dreadful scene in your head

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤ “The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain.”

The following day you headed to your biology class as usual, except this time the usually empty seat next to yours is filled. The back of Beomgyu’s head burns into your vision. Instead of picking somewhere else to sit you decide to stop being a little bitch and sit in your usual spot. Taking a seat, you don’t even bother to glance at the boy sitting next to you. Instead, you focus all your attention on the front of the class, shifting uncomfortably in your seat every so often. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be saying a word either, for the past hour he’s been jotting down notes seriously. In most cases, this would be a relief but because of the amount of tension between you, this produces more anger in you rather than content. Before you know it the class ends and you're left to pick up your things and head to the dining hall to get some lunch. That is until your ears perk up at someone calling your name from across the room.

“Hey Y/n! Wait up for me?” Someone running behind you asks. You turn to see that Soobin is taking long strides toward you, trying to get your attention. At the same time from the corner of your eye, you can see Beomgyu turn his head in curiosity.

You stop in your tracks to face Soobin, a sweet smile spreads across your face.

“Hi Soobin! To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to you today?” You ask, genuinely curious.

This isn’t the first time you’ve interacted with the man, but it's rare. Rare enough that you are always shocked by how tall he is every time you have the chance to talk to him. His blond hair is slightly covering his eyes; you can’t help but notice how cute he looks in a pair of glasses.

“There's something that I wanted to ask you actually..” He scratches the back of his neck feeling nervous. You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, now you’re even more curious. What you don’t notice is Beomgyu trying to listen in on your conversation.

“Okay, what is it?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the cafe across campus with me tonight?” He blurts out, a hue of red growing on his cheeks, the tips of his ears also a shade of pink in embarrassment. You let out a small laugh because of how endearing you find him.

“Sure! I’d love to, I'll meet you there at 7?” Finalizing your plans with him, and you finally feel good about yourself for the first time in two weeks.

You leave the lecture hall, failing to notice Beomgyu’s figure still standing by your shared desks. Too caught up in talking to Soobin to detect the energy of anger radiating off Beomgyu’s body. He can’t help but wonder if you had feelings for Soobin. What if you preferred Soobin over him? At this point you probably did, after all that he’s done. Even then, Beomgyu still felt like Soobin didn’t deserve your attention, not even a date to the cafe.

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤

Right at seven p.m. you enter the small cafe located across your campus. You felt excited to go on this date considering it's been a while since you entertained the thought of seeing someone romantically. Thoughts of Beomgyu slowly melted away whilst Soobin started to occupy a new spot in your mind. It gave you relief, constantly wondering about Beomgyu gave you an abnormal amount of stress. Tonight isn’t about him though, it’s about you and your time with Soobin.

The cafe was adorable. Decorations are carefully placed around the venue leaving a cute and comfortable vibe. Spotting Soobin sitting in a booth by the window, you call out his name and he looks up and smiles at you; showing off his dimples.

“Hey! Should we go and order our drinks?” Soobin asks you, he stands up to greet you with a hug. You lean into the hug and his warmth envelopes you. A sigh is drawn out of you, not being able to remember the last time you received such soft affection. You could get used to this, you thought. Soobin was homely, and he would never confuse you the way Beomgyu does.

“Yeah let’s go.” You smile, taking his hand and walking with him to the counter.

The both of you order your drinks taking a seat at the booth Soobin was previously sitting at before. A bell rings throughout the cafe, causing you to turn to see who walks in. Unfortunately, it's none other than Choi Beomgyu, who always seems to rain on your parade. You attempt to take your eyes off him but it’s like he's got you in a trance.

Beomgyu takes a brief look around the quiet cafe before he eventually ends up spotting you and Soobin sitting in the corner. A smirk already appears on his face, the mischievous look in his eyes emphasizes as he walks towards you two. Whatever he had planned, you already know it wasn’t going to be something you would enjoy.

“Soobin! Y/n! Fancy seeing you guys here” He feigns surprise already sitting into the seat beside you, lodging himself in the middle of your date.

“Hey Beomgyu!” Poor, kind, and naive Soobin greets him, not knowing Beomgyu’s plan just yet.

“What are you two doing here?” Beomgyu asks.

“Beomgyu. Soobin and I are on a date.” You finally speak up, not having the patience to deal with him. Rolling your eyes, you silently hope that this will cause Beomgyu to leave the two of you alone. The cafe was practically empty other than the worker behind the counter. This makes things even more awkward but Beomgyu doesn’t seem to have plans to leave any time soon. It’s almost as if he’s been cemented to the seat. Soobin looks at you confused, his eyebrows scrunching together cutely. You can't help but give him an apologetic smile.

“A date… Wow, Soobin I didn’t know you have a thing for little y/n over here.” Beomgyu laughs.

“Yeah, actually I do have a thing for her Beomgyu, and I would like to be on this date with her alone,” Soobin emphasizes.

Beomgyu’s mischievous smile only grows wider with Soobin's words. You feel dizzy as this conversation seemingly takes a negative turn.

“Oh my bad man, but I don’t think y/n feels the same way.”

“Why do you say that?” Soobin’s eyebrows quirk up wanting to know what Beomgyu has to say.

No No No No, you thought, you could already tell where this was going. Knowing Beomgyu he always has something up his sleeve. He always knew how to get under people's skin, especially yours. His way of manipulating the situation in his favour was something he was always good at. Why was he even doing all this now? You can’t help but wonder why he isn’t with the girl he was kissing yesterday. The fact that he could be doing anything else at this moment, but instead, he is ruining your date with Soobin. It's giving you whiplash, his actions never line up with one another. One day he was not speaking to you, not even anywhere to be seen on campus. Today he thinks he can ruin a perfectly fine date with someone who communicates interest in you.

“Beomgyu. Please leave.” You’re practically begging. You turn to him, the desperation in your eyes could be seen from miles away but Beomgyu just chooses to ignore it.

“Oh nothing important, just thought you should know y/n and I ended u-” Beomgyu was about to finish his sentence but you were quick to cut him off. You knew how that sentence was about to end but you didn’t want Soobin to judge you or see you in a negative light. Beomgyu is starting to get on your nerves now and your patience has always been on the thinner side.

“Don't listen to him..... I’m so sorry Soob but I’m going to have to cut this date short, but I’ll text you ok? I think I need to have a conversation with Beomgyu over here.” You’re rambling now, but you need to get Beomgyu away from Soobin as soon as possible. Soobin doesn’t seem to protest, still confused. You leave your date dumbfounded as you drag Beomgyu out of the cafe, fully prepared to give him hell for his actions.

Once you’re outside of the building and away from prying ears or eyes you begin your rant.

“Choi Beomgyu what the fuck were you thinking following me just to ruin my date? You leave for two weeks with no explanation. No call or text, you don't even show up to class for fucks sake!” Yelling at the top of your lungs, finally able to let out all the anger that's been pent up inside you these past few weeks.

“I’m sorry y/n but I can just sit here and watch you go on a date with him. He’s not right for you.”

“He's not right for me? Oh, that's rich coming from you, Beomgyu. If anything you’re not right for me. You fuck me, leave for 2 fucking weeks, and the next time I see you, you have your tongue shoved down someone else’s throat. But yeah, Soobin isn’t the right one for me. OK then.” You roll your eyes, sick of Beomgyus shit now, and not wanting to listen anymore.

You walk away from him, too tired to carry on with the argument. You already feel the tears starting to well up but you try your best not to let them fall. Beomgyu wasn’t worth your tears. If you didn’t know any better you would fully believe that he only exists to make you miserable. The cold air causes you to hug yourself as you walk away.

Out of nowhere, Beomgyu attempts to stop you, his large frame towering over you once again.

“Beomgyu I have nothing else to say to you so please let me leave,” You speak, gritting through your teeth; and not wanting to make eye contact with him. Your eyes are looking down at your feet.

“No,” Beomgyu states firmly.

“No?” Now you’re pissed and you look at him like you’re about to commit a serious offence.

“No y/n I’m not letting you go, so let me explain.” He’s pleading now, asking you to hear him out just this once.

You roll your eyes, the cold is nipping at your skin now. You’re starting to shiver and mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. You stay silent, not feeling up for a fight with him anymore. You gesture for him to go on and an expression of relief washes over his face. He takes a step closer to you with an expression ridden with guilt. You feel confused, this is probably the first time you’ve seen him look so sorrowful. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still angry with him for barging in on you and Soobin's peaceful date. If you were smart enough you would turn around and go back inside the cafe. But you weren’t smart enough, your feet are firmly planted on the sidewalk. Beomgyu has always had a knack for suppressing your common sense.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you y/n. I don’t regret anything that happened that night, I just-” He stops mid-sentence, groaning with frustration. His cheeks are an obvious shade of pink and he can’t help but put his face in his hands.

Beomgyu was never one to be able to express his emotions; even just standing here in front of you has him jumbling up all his words. He can’t help but feel nervous when you’re looking up at him so innocently. Your eyes catching the light of the moon and your nose a soft hue of pink from the cold. You’re not even aware of the effect you have on him and it only intensified after he was able to get a taste of you. You mesmerize him in every way, your soft lips, the sounds of your moans while he's inside you. It’s too much for him.

“Go on..” You urge him to continue, getting more impatient by the minute.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I really am. I don't know what's gotten into me. I know I’ve been gone but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. I did everything to try and forget you. I even tried to hook up with someone else, but you’ve ruined me. You’ve ruined me for everyone else and I don’t want anyone else.” Beomgyus rambling, his eyes searching for a reaction but to him your expression is unreadable.

His words have your heart racing and you have no idea how to feel. I’ve ruined him? You thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth right now, and you feel the annoyance starting to trickle back in.

“Beomgyu, that still doesn’t give you the right to ignore me and try to ruin my date with Soobin.”

“I know, I know y/n, I just couldn’t help myself, the way he looks at you pisses me off so much and he doesn’t deserve you. No one does, you’re too good for anyone. Too good for me. But I want you, I want you and I can’t stand the thought of someone like Soobin being the one to fuck you every night. It should be me, not him.” His words are vulgar. You’re in shock now but you can feel the heat go straight to your legs. He’s staring at you with so much intensity that your resolve is starting to crumble. It’s too damn cold to be standing out here arguing with him. So you do what no sane person would think to do at this moment. You lean in and push your lips against his.

Beomgyu lets out a sound of surprise but ultimately reciprocates the kiss almost immediately. Soft lips move against his fluidly while you take the opportunity to comb your fingers through his hair. You loved his long hair and how soft it feels between your fingers. You can’t help but tug at it lightly, eliciting a groan to leave Beomgyu’s mouth. His hands are holding onto your waist so tight. The hold is suffocating in the most intoxicating way. His lips, the way he tastes against your tongue is addictive. This is what you’ve been missing these past few weeks and you want to make up for lost time.

“Beomgyu.” You’re pulling away from him, not missing the disappointed look on his face. He looks so angelic for someone who made you go through fifty different emotions in the span of an hour. He's looking at you with bedroom eyes, his hands raking up and down your waist, not wanting to let you go. The movement of his hands are causing your shirt to lift up slightly, teasingly brushing against your bare skin. “Take me home.”

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤ “when the lights go out, she’s all i ever think about”

The tension during the car ride is thick; while the music murmurs softly as Beomgyu drives towards your apartment. He is holding your thigh, running his hands up and down trying to soothe you. But it only arouses you even more, you’re practically counting down the seconds till you reach your place. You felt nervous even though this isn’t your first time being intimate with him, but these two weeks apart felt like an eternity.

Finally after the longest 10 minute drive of your life, you reach your destination. The street lights are dim and your neighbourhood is practically deserted. The only disturbance was the sound of the music playing from the car’s speakers, as well as the loud thumping of your own heartbeat. The moon is still high in the evening sky illuminating all that's below it. You’re starting to get antsy, your thoughts running a million miles per hour. All you can think about is wanting to feel Beomgyu inside you again.

Beomgyu gets out of the car walking over to the passenger side; he opens the door for you, taking your hand to guide you. This is probably the first time you’ve seen Beomgyu act so sweet. You mumble a thank you and smile softly to yourself. You could get used to this, you thought, hoping that this thing between you and Beomgyu is more than another hook-up.

He takes a hold of your hand without saying another word, his fingers interlocking with your own. You squeeze his hand lightly signalling that you like it. He looks at you and with a meek smile, he looks shy, probably anticipating what's going to happen next. You both find your way to the elevator and your hands are still intertwined, he doesn’t want to let you go ever again. If the car ride here felt like forever, the elevator ride up was tenfold. You squirm while the elevator takes its time going up each floor. Your heart still feels like it's about to explode; until you hear that fateful ding indicating you’ve made it to your floor.

Beomgyu is still holding your hand as you lead him to the front door of your apartment. You bend down slightly to put your code in, your stomach flips as you feel Beomgyu’s presence behind you. His breath fanning over the back of your neck; the proximity allows you to be engulfed in his scent. He smells sweet in the best way possible, it was intoxicating. You would want to be buried in his scent for as long as time allows.

The door opens with a click, the two of you still holding hands; you pull him past the doorway and kiss him with more passion and vigour than the last time. His hands fly to your waist taking off your coat. Rapidly both your shoes and Beomgyu’s jacket come off in the process of making your way to your room.

Your hand in his hair once again, tugging it just to hear the soft noises he makes as you do so. Suddenly, he has you against the door, his lips never leaving your skin. He's pressing hot kisses onto your neck making sure to leave marks where everyone could see. You let out soft sighs relishing in the feeling of him against you once again. Your hands are holding onto his biceps firmly, you know if you let go your legs would give out and you would fall to the floor. While you grip onto him his hands start to leave your waist moving towards the button on your jeans.

“I can’t get enough of you y/n.” Beomgyu whispers in your ear as he unbuttons your jeans. You can only keep kissing down his neck in response, nipping at his skin. Your pants fall to the floor and you're left in your lacy underwear. Beomgyu leaves your touch to take a good look at you, his eyes darkening with want. The prominent dick print on his jeans showing you how hard he is for you right now. The wetness between your legs is starting to become uncomfortable, now you're rubbing your thighs together to feel some sort of relief.

You can’t help but look down to take a peek at the bulge in Beomgyu’s pants. Feeling excited, you turn towards the bed while taking his hand. You lead him to the bed, pushing on his chest lightly so he falls back onto the mattress. He takes off the rest of his clothes, patting his lap motioning for you to come and take a seat. You do as he says and sit on him, straddling him between your legs. He leans on his elbows enjoying the view. He sucks in a breath as he watches you take off your shirt, not wearing a bra underneath.

Beomgyu’s head is dizzy with thoughts of you, his imagination causing his dick to pulse within his boxers. Seemingly he’s had enough of your little show, ready to pound you till you cry. He brings you in for a kiss once again, loving the feeling of your hands on him. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he gets to touch you. He wants you to be his forever if it was possible.

Your hand reaches down past his boxers and strokes his hard cock, rubbing the precum against his length to lubricate him. His grip on your waist tightens to the point that it will leave bruises, you don't care though. You love seeing how weak he gets when he is in your hands. He moans into the kiss, rutting his hips to stimulate the feeling even more. You keep kissing his face, his neck, anywhere you have access to. Your hand is still rubbing him up and down, he was so big that your hands looked tiny in comparison.

Beomgyu’s had enough with your teasing, he flips you so your back is laying flat on the bed, ripping your underwear off with ease. His actions elicit a moan to escape your lips. His kisses start at your face and he slowly lowers himself down your body. Stopping at your breasts, massaging one while his mouth is wrapped around the other. You're moaning at the feeling, gasping as he grazes his teeth lightly against your sensitive nipples. You're writhing beneath him and he's barely even touched you. Your head is spinning and Beomgyu doesn’t have any plans to stop pleasuring you.

Feeling satisfied with his work on your chest he finally situates himself between your legs. “Look at you, all wet already and I’ve barely even started.” He laughs into the heat of your glistening folds. You're whining at this point, gripping on to his hair again trying to get him to finally touch you. He immediately shuts you up by giving you a quick slap on your core. You yelp and he's laughing again, looking up at you from between your thighs. Glaring at him with your cheeks fully flushed.

“Beomgyu I swear to god if you-oh.” Your sentence is cut short because Beomgyu lays a flat long strip against your cunt. He's licking up all your juices, groaning at the sweet taste of you.

“Ah shit baby you taste so good” His groans are sending vibrations to you, leaving you moaning with your eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. He continues his ministrations licking you all up as if he's been starved for days. His nose is bumping into your clit and your hips are moving against his head trying to stimulate it even more. One of his hands is holding your hip down as the other is slithering its way to prod your entrance. You begin to see stars, the pleasure starting to become too much for you to handle. He inserts his long finger into your weeping pussy and the squelches of your wetness bounce off the walls alongside your moans. Your legs shake as they clench around Beomgyu’s head. Without a second thought he begins to suck your clit as his fingers are pumping in and out of you.

“Don't stop please baby, I'm about to cum.” You say breathlessly and Beomgyu takes this as a sign to work harder. His fingers go in and out of you faster; his tongue giving your clit kitten licks all at the same time. You feel a rush come over your whole body, you're lightheaded and deciding to finally let go. Your moaning his name over and over, he continues to finger you diligently letting you ride out your high.

“You’re so wet for me every single time, you only get like this for me don't you darling?” Beomgyu’s looking at you, all the while you're still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm. Beomgyu quickly shifts into a position where you and him are face to face, your legs now around his hips. You whine still feeling sensitive and he grabs you by the neck pushing your face closer to his. “Answer me properly y/n.”

“Yes its only for y-you, please Beomgyu I want you to fuck me.” You’re begging him and he laughs at you.

“Look at you. You’re crying ‘cause you want my cock that bad?” the grip tightens around your neck and you start to feel that familiar fuzzy feeling.

“Yes please please please, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside me please.” Your gasping, trying hard to speak properly with his hand still clasped around your neck.

“Good. No ones going to fuck you like I do. Not even Soobin.” He removes his hands from your neck letting one settle on your thigh, holding it up to wrap around his waist. Beomgyu’s actions are excruciatingly slow as he grabs his cock, lining it up with the entrance of your soaking cunt. A frustrated whine leaves your mouth and you're moving your hips to try and feel some sort of stimulation. Beomgyu slaps your thigh hard in response, leaving a red mark which rightfully shuts you up. His length is now rubbing up and down your folds, bumping into your clit ever so slightly.

Grabbing onto his biceps, your head lolls back. There's a moan bubbling up your throat and it's cut off abruptly by the feeling of Beomgyu shoving his entire cock inside you. Your soft moan has now turned into a high pitched scream. You can’t seem to get enough of his cock. The way it fills your walls deliciously; his dick kissing your cervix with every thrust so easily. You stare at him, your mouth agape. “Faster please Gyu, feels so good.”

Beomgyu doesn’t have to be told twice, his thrusts gaining speeds as he fucks you like he hasn’t felt your touch for a million years. The headboard is banging against the wall and the sound of skin slapping echoes around your room. He can’t help but admire the way you look underneath him. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re taking his cock so well. Happily thrusting into you, knowing that he’s here fucking you dumb instead of that loser Soobin. Beomgyu whole-heartedly believes that your pussy feels like it was made only for him, the tightness of your gummy walls sending him into overdrive.

The moans that leave your mouth as he slides in and out of you is like music to his ears. He slows his thrusts, moving your legs to place them against his shoulders, fucking you in a new angle. The new position has you moaning louder than before. Thrusting faster now-Beomgyu is hitting that angle inside you that drives you crazy. The wet sounds coming from him fucking you increases in volume, the feeling leaving you drooling and a hot mess under his touch.

“Gyu I’m gonna cum again please keep going.” breathlessly you can't help but beg for more. If it was possible you would ask Beomgyu to fuck you all night long.

You’re heat is clenching around him tighter with each long thrust that he takes. He loves to stare down in between you two, seeing him slide in out of you so easily. The white ring of your cum covering the hilt of his cock. It drives him absolutely insane. You drive him absolutely insane, and he knows for sure that he can’t let you leave.

“Your pussy is so fucking good baby, I wanna be inside you forever.” Beomgyu says, pushing your legs till they're folded against your chest. The position burns but the feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the pain. If you died tomorrow you would die a happy girl. You were practically in heaven with the way Beomgyu was fucking you right now. If it was possible you wouldn’t need anything else but his cock. “‘M gonna cum, lemme cum inside you please.”

You nod, looking at him with desperate eyes, not being able to speak. The pleasure is overtaking your senses and Beomgyu’s thrusts turn erratic. You clench around his cock, cumming for the second time tonight, and your own orgasm sends Beomgyu into his own. His hot seed fills you up till it starts to leak out of you. You love the feeling of his dick twitching inside you, and the way his cum makes you feel full. Beomgyu doesn’t remove himself from you, instead he kisses your forehead, his dick resting peacefully in your heat.

“You’re such a good little slut aren't you. Always taking me so well.” He mumbles, your legs now around his waist, his face buried into the side of your neck. He gives you kisses while running his hands up and down your thighs soothing you.

“I only want you Gyu, no one else. Not Soobin. You.” You’re reassuring him, jealous Beomgyu filling your mind now. Although you find it hot when he’s jealous, it was also scary to see how much he's capable of.

“Good. I only want you too.”

Your hands run through his hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. He looks up at you, completely mesmerized by how beautiful you look after he fucked you so good. Beomgyu wants to be able to see you in this light more than just once, forever, if possible. The after sex glow and lightly flushed cheeks has his dick twitching inside you. Giggling, you clench around him to show that you’re up for another round.

“Dont you dare do that again, or im fucking you till you cant take any more of me.” He warns, his voice is low and his eyes are filled with the same aforementioned lust. You laugh at him and repeat the action. This is going to be a long night, you think to yourself. Fed up with your teasing, Beomgyu flips you over onto your stomach. Harshly inserting himself in you again, giving your ass a sharp slap.

end ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ࣪˖

#beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt fanfic #txt beomgyu #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {series: txt as 5sos songs}#wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}

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