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celestie0 · 4 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time.

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant.

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago.

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile.

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

But why was he remembering all of that now?

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision.

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines.

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door.

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles.

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once.

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on.

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings.

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you.

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter.

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time.

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him.

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either.

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid.

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.”

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside.

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass.

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away.

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment.

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high.

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him.

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime.

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game.

3-2. UTokyo’s win.

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink.

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again.

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @purplehallow11 @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @erencvlt @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @hojoslutoru @drthymby @ninitoru @btszn @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @fvsm4x @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @cierocanteat (thank you to everyone <3)

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starrgaziinggg · 9 months

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all I need is you

Hyunjin x reader, established relationship, fluff

-> 1.4k words

You almost don't notice the space beside you being filled. It had been hours, just staring at the city below you as the wind forced goosebumps to rise on your arms. Being alone had never bothered you much until today. Watching groups of friends gossiping around campus on your first day back only fuelled your desire to have a friend group of your own.

Girls you could talk about anything with. Guys that teased you lovingly. A firm body of people around you. It wasn't as though you'd never had friends, it was more so you couldn't find the place you naturally fit in. You were never any good at long term friendships, finding the forced nature of them disconcerting.

Hyunjin drops a hoodie on your lap before nestling in beside you, the make shift outdoor sofa you'd created one bored night being the only source of comfort on your rooftop. Until Hyunjin, of course. His warm aura brings you comfort even on your darkest days.

"Figured you'd be freezing to death up here," he chuckles, grabbing both of your hands in his to warm them. His freshly dyed black hair (a shame to you, since you'd loved the red, but his boss did not) blows into his face as he turns to give you a lopsided grin.

It's almost comical how at ease you feel now he's by your side, your feelings of loneliness evaporating almost instantly. He was a stroke of luck, Hyunjin, seemingly finding you when you needed him most. An art student, working long shifts in a local cafe to get by, who'd become a recluse voluntarily.

The bookstore you'd first met in was always desolate. You'd no idea how the small gem managed to stay afloat, since you were almost always the only person that bothered to give it time. It was one of your favourite places, the sole owner knowing you by name.

Six chapters into rereading your favourite book and there he was, nudging your foot with his as he flopped onto the beanbag beside you.

"Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami," he read aloud, tilting his head at you inquisitively. "Any good?"

A couple seconds after the shock of a gorgeous man interrupting your evening routine, you nod slowly.

"It's my favourite," you had replied in a small voice, confused as to why this god crafted human being was in a run down bookshop behind your apartment block, and why he was giving you the time of day.

"Tell me about it," he's said, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back, patiently waiting.

So you delved into a ramble about the basis of the book and why it meant so much to you, the premise of morality and why people do the things they do. And the whole time Hyunjin, as you'd come to discover his name, sat listening intently, nodding along without interrupting once.

When you'd concluded, realising you had been speaking much longer than you probably should have been, he raised his eyebrows.

"You know, I was never any good at English in school. I slept through every book analysis my dull ass English teacher ever attempted. And, I actually only came in here because it's one of the only stores in the area that has this art book I need, but I could probably listen to you talk about how to tie my own shoelaces and still be entranced."

The shellshock of Hyunjin's immediate interest in you took weeks to dissipate. You'd talked until the owner of the bookstore told you (lovingly) to beat it, and then some. The next day, you'd completed your summer university coursework in the cafe he worked at until his shift finished and then walked aimlessly around the area, never running out of topics to discuss.

And that was that. Within months you knew everything about each other. He took you to his favourite museum one day, explaining the intricacies behind every painting, and all you could do was watch him in awe. He walked you home, told you you were his favourite person in the universe, and kissed you because he meant it.

You'd never thought of yourself as a lucky person, but in that moment it was as though all your good karma had willed itself into existence.

"What's going on inside that head, pretty?" He says now, tilting your head up with his finger to meet his gaze.

"Nothing majorly substantial," you reply lazily, kissing his nose lightly and making him laugh. You tug on the jumper he'd brought you, a thick hoodie he'd bought recently, as he pulls an arm around your shoulders.

"Every thought you have is substantial," he says matter-of-factly, turning back to look at the view. The city noises dulled as he spoke, car horns and music white noise in the distance. "Even the ones about cats and why they're better than dogs."

"They are," you glare at him, which he just rolls his eyes at. You sit in silence for a couple minutes, enjoying his company as he traces circles on your bare legs absentmindedly. "How was your shift today?"

"Same old," he replies, pulling a hand through his disheveled hair. "You should come in after your classes tomorrow, sit with me behind the counter."

"You're lucky your boss likes you," you chuckle, bumping his shoulder lightly with yours. "I'm there every other day."

"Chan doesn't care," Hyunjin assures with a smile. "He likes you. He actually invited you along to our work night out next weekend."

"He did?" You ask, your attention piquing.

Hyunjin hums in response. "Yeah, but it will be a whole lot of Riki terrorising everyone and risking getting himself fired," he laughs. "That kid is a menace."

"Do you want me to come?" You ask sincerely, doe eyes blinking up at the man you were wholeheartedly in love with. He looks back at you with such adoration your heart physically swells in your chest.

"Of course," he answers instantly, his brows furrowed. "Everyone I work with probably likes you more than they like me. In fact, they've stated it more than once. Plus, I'd get to show off my pretty girlfriend, and I need you for morale support against Riki."

The grin appears of your face quicker than lightening as you nestle your head into Hyunjin's shoulder.

"Sometimes I think I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you in my life, you know," you mumble. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

You feel Hyunjin shake his head above you, before reaching for your face with both hands and making you stare at him.

"You're perfect, love," he smiles, rubbing his thumb against your cold cheek. "You can be a stubborn thing, but I love you for it. If you could see yourself through my eyes you'd understand why I'm so infatuated with you."

You can't help but to roll your eyes, a natural instinct to any compliment you receive. He shakes you gently as you laugh, as if attempting to rid you of all your negative thoughts.

"Now, get your ass inside your apartment. It's fucking freezing out here, and I'm shattered," he groans, standing up and pulling you along with him.

"You're staying over?" You ask excitedly, knowing he was going to classes early in the morning.

"Duh," he says sassily, leading you through the fire escape after intertwining your hand with his own. "I missed you like crazy at work today. Chan's new no phone rule is kicking my ass and I need a cuddle."

You laugh, following him down the stairs in your apartment building like a puppy. "You're cute today."

"I'm cute everyday," he counters, turning to tilt his head at you. You stop for a second, just staring down at him.

"I love you, you know?" You say, as if he's not already aware of how deep your feelings run for him. He just grins back at you, tugging you down the stairs and into his embrace.

“I love you too, angel,” he replies whilst wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Maybe you would never have the amount of friends you’d always desired. Maybe those deep rooted feelings of loneliness would never fully dissipate. But with Hyunjin by your side, you felt as though you didn’t need anything more.

I wrote this last night and wasn’t going to post it but I think it’s cute so here you go :) sorry for the inactivity, I am swamped rn but I’m trying my best!

#hyunjin x reader #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagine #hyunjin comfort #stray kids imagines

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otdiaftg · 5 months

Text

The King's Men - Chapter Seven

Day: Monday, January 15th Time: 4:40 PM EST

His teammates had dispersed in his short absence. Matt, Dan, and Allison had claimed one of the Vixens' benches. Kevin stood alone near the court wall, Wymack's clipboard in hand, and rummaged through the day's notes. Nicky lounged on the steps leading into the stands, and Neil spotted Aaron about twenty rows up. Andrew and Renee were making their usual laps around the inner ring and hadn't gotten far. Neil didn't feel like dealing with anyone else yet, so he went after the goalies. Renee spotted him as they rounded the first corner and motioned for Andrew to wait. Neil had excuses ready if they asked why he was invading their space, but Renee greeted his arrival with a brilliant smile and Andrew acknowledged him with an unconcerned glance. They set off again at a lazy pace as soon as Neil caught up. Neil had wondered what the two talked about when they were away from everyone else. The last thing he expected was for them to be discussing Exy. Renee wanted to switch which halves they played now that Andrew wasn't limited by his withdrawal. Their opponents were going to get more challenging every week and Andrew was the stronger goalkeeper. She wanted him to pick up the slack when their teammates wound down in second half. Andrew accepted her suggestion without argument, and Renee moved on. What started as a normal conversation quickly spiraled out of hand, and Neil had no idea how they went from the construction work on the far side of campus grounds to a likely starting point for World War III. There had to be a correlation between the two, but as hard as he wracked his brain he couldn't find one. Eventually he gave up, because trying to make sense of the jump meant he couldn't actually listen to their argument. Renee expected it to start over resources, particularly water shortages, whereas Andrew was convinced the US government would get involved in the wrong conflict and draw vicious retaliation. There wasn't enough time left in break for either one of them to win the other over, and since Neil wouldn't play tiebreaker they set the debate aside for another day

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

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welldonebeca · 7 months

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the cabin in the woods **

Summary: You accept a friend's invitation to spend a week in her cousin's cabin in the woods. When you end up summoning a pair of psycho brothers who want to "exorcise" you of your "demons", things get a little bit complicated. (Horror/Monster AU inspired by "Cabin in the woods") Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader x Dean Winchester Warnings: Horror, death, monsters, death, eventual smut, lots of comedy in between to lighten the mood. Reader is kinda Brazilian, definitively latina. Patreon fic.

Masterlist

You tried to keep your ugly looks to yourself as you sat squeezed in the middle seat of the way-too-little car you’d been stuffed into for the last two hours.

Gwen’s cousin had a cabin in the woods and he had given her to keys to spend Halloween there.

Something very wrong had to be happening in your life to make you accept this invitation, but life in campus was exhausting and you just wanted a minute of peace to smoke and do nothing.

“Don’t be so grumpy, we’ll be there soon,” Enid mumbled, not even raising her eyes from her kindle.

“I didn’t say anything,” you crossed your arms.

Lucy chuckled on your other side, raising her eyes from her phone.

“You’re hungry,” she reminded you. “You always get grumpy when you are hungry.”

You sighed, glancing at the front seats. Gwen was deep into her survival reading, because one can never be too prepared, and Vicky was driving, and the two probably weren’t even hearing you over the sound of Guts being played - which didn’t let you sleep, but who is pointing fingers?

You threw your head back, annoyed.

“The cabin!” Vicky announced over the music.

You looked up, eager, so glad that it was fucking over, and she sped up as everyone in the car cheered loudly.

Suddenly, Vicky slammed the breaks, and you could feel the seatbelt just digging into your shoulder and hipbone.

What the fuck?!

“Victoria!” you kicked her seat.

She laughed aloud, stopping the car, and the song was interrupted.

“Sorry!”

You rolled your eyes, and Gwen looked back in your direction.

“Can someone please feed her?” she unbuckled her seatbelt, practically kicking her door open. “Oh, my back. My poor back!”

They opened the doors, leaving you alone in the car, and fell lied on the seat, letting out a long breath.

Everyone started taking their things out of the car, and you waited a minute. You were the first to pack, and that meant your stuff was practically hidden in there.

“Hey, lazy princess,” Lucy knocked on the window. “Are you going to sleep in the car, now?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hand, and heard her opening the door, lifting your legs for her to fit in the car.

“Hey,” she called, reaching for your hand.

You pouted and Lucy patted your knee.

“You know Vicky can get… very Vicky,” she reminded you. “I can talk to her if you want to.”

All you could let out was a long groan before shaking your head, at last.

“It’s fine, I don’t want to cause drama,” you rubbed your eyes. “But thanks.”

Okay, so, you weren’t a friend group.

You were friends with Gwen, Lucy and a little bit with Enid. You know knew Vicky.

But Gwen was friends with all of you, and Vicky was friends with Gwen and Lucy, and Lucy was best friends with Enid.

So your connections were… varying.

And you were hungry! You were starving!

Lucy walked back, and then you felt something being thrown at your lap, gasping when it landed on your lap.

“Eat, Grinch,” Gwen stuck her tongue out at you. “We’re gonna get started inside. Don’t dirty the car.”

She walked off, and you unwrapped the thick cold sandwich, probably saved in one of those travelling containers, as the other three walked inside, and Lucy waited for your thumbs-up before following them along, and you watched them enter the house.

You were in your second bite when you started looking around, and the place was fucking creepy – even in daylight.

There were no street lights. Actually, there were no street, it was a trail clearly made for a car – you’d left any asphalt 30 minutes ago.

You’d be surprised if anyone got any phone sign inside that thing.

You were surprised it had electricity and running water!

This was going to be quite the interesting vacation.

. . .

"the cabin in the woods" is a Patreon Halloween fic! To read it now, subscribe to my page, it's just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

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dotster001 · 2 years

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Halloween Lovers

Summary: Malleus x gn!reader. Malleus wants to spend Halloween with the one he loves the most, but nothing can ever go right.

A/N: based on the Halloween event and the fact that no one told Malleus that TWST isn't an otome game

Malleus liked you. Okay, he really liked you. Okay, he loved you so much that it ate him up inside when you were around other men.

He really wanted to spend your first Halloween in Twisted Wonderland with you. He'd host Diasomnia's exhibit at Ramshackle, show off his Halloween prowess, and then ask you to be his under the light of the Halloween moon. Easy Peasy.

Not easy peasy. He forgot to tell you he was using Ramshackle in his excitement, and Lilia told him you were panicking a little. Then the Magicam monsters kept breaking into your house. Lilia had to restrain him multiple times from frying the monsters when they had pushed or shoved you.

When the committee had come up with the plan to scare away the Magicam monsters, he got a sick thrill. He could finally defend his Child of Man, and show off his capabilities as a potential mate!

Wrong again. The committee had put you, Grim, and the ghosts in charge of making sure they had actually left the campus. He had been moping until Lilia reminded him that this meant he could be as cruel as he wanted, and you wouldn't be there to be scared off.

Finally, the party has arrived. Despite the setbacks, he was determined to ask you out. Come hell or high water he would….why was Kingscholar using your lap as a pillow?!?!

Malleus had had enough.

"Child of Man, I have to speak to you urgently," he said, as calmly as possible.

"They're busy," Leona said, smirk on his face, eyes still closed.

"It's okay Mal Mal, you can say it in front of Leona," you smiled up at him. Sevens, he loved that smile.

Leona was grumbling something, when Malleus kneeled down to your level and took your hand.

"My child of man, I adore you, and cannot imagine another day without you by my side. Would you do me the greatest honor of allowing me to court you," he said, eyes full of love.

"Oh my gosh, of course Mal, I love you too," you said softly.

Malleus felt his heart skip a beat as he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, feeling a smug satisfaction that Leona was still in your lap, and now had to watch you share true love's first kiss. Needless to say, he was not pleased.

"Fucking lizard."

....

Tag list- @stygianoir @shytastemakerthing

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #malleus #malleus draconia x reader

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captainsy-cookiemonster · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home

Prompt: Okay! You gonna love this A sandwich.... between....*drum rolls* Mike and Touch Starved!Will … They both brothers, and Mike is a horn dog, while after 3 month parted Will needs a hard release after a stressful business agenda😘😘

Summary: while your one roommate is away, things get steamy with your other roommate. it just so happens that the roommate who was gone comes back while you’re fooling around with the other one. this is fun.

Pairing: bi!Mikey x unnamed OFC x bi!Will Shaw

Warnings: dom x switch x switch, f2l, threeway, p in v sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside (on, uhh both ends), grinding, little bit of degradation, implication that Mikey came in his pants while OFC was grinding on him once, my first time writing a threeway, me picking up a wip after moooonths and a very draining semester, hints at a possible polyamorous relationship?, rules of physics? is this even possible? we don’t ask these kinds of questions here sir, the female character is not described beyond having “grip-able” hair however you want to define it, for the sake of not being called inclusive enough for a reader i chose to make her an unspecified OFC

Names used: bunny, good girl, sweetheart, slut, good boy (Mikey), sir (Will)

A/N: I hope you don’t mind that I changed your prompt a little bit. I didn’t really feel comfortable writing them as brothers, so I made them all roommates. Thank you so much @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @littlefreya and @luna-aestas for helping me when i got stuck or felt it sucked. You girls are amazing ❤️ not beta'd much. Typos we're going down swingin'!

Word count: ca 4k

Title: Welcome Home

Writers live off validation. If you liked it please like, comment and reblog 💕 thank you for reading 💖

It started as roommates. As a guy in his junior year, with friends mostly in higher semesters, Will was suddenly left with an empty apartment and a rent that was far too high to handle all by himself.

That’s when I came into play, a little freshman who happened to not have gotten a dorm room on campus. It was especially convenient since I got a job at the little café just across the street once I was accepted into college. The wage was just enough for rent and food and I was lucky my parents still supported me.

A few weeks into the semester, another boy joined our little arrangement. Mikey was trouble, which, in a way, was good because that meant he was rarely home. He was always out partying, slept during the day, and missed most of his courses. But at least that meant it was quiet when Will and I had to study or do homework.

That was two years ago. The three of us have become close friends, almost like family. The boys grew protective of their little barista, who would bring them their favorite coffee whenever I came home. They were almost like big brothers. Well… Almost.

Will has finished his bachelor’s by now and is currently building his own startup, while part time working on his master's program. So he’s still living in the apartment with the two of us.

Well actually… not right now. He had to go away for three months. Something to do with his business, I can’t really remember.

Three months alone with Mikey have been... interesting, to say the least. And fun. Lots of fun. Take that however you want.

Right now, we're lounging on the couch, watching some silly movie. I couldn't tell the name even with a gun to my head. It’s late, and Mikey's soft, but progressively more daring caress is using up all the focus I can muster. His hand snuck into my shorts and is squeezing my buttcheek. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper and press my thighs together. He does it again, drawing the same reaction from me; except this time, I bury my face into his chest. I can practically feel his smirk and look up to glare at him. I don’t even meet his eyes before his lips catch mine in a sloppy kiss.

In a scramble of arms and legs, he pulls me to straddle his lap, his hands kneading my ass while mine paw at his chest and neck, tug at his hair, and grip his shoulders. It’s messy. It’s clumsy. It’s desperate. I want more. I need it. I need to be closer, need to feel him everywhere.

I start grinding my hips into his crotch, feeling him grow. His hands on my hips urge me on, but instead of speeding up, I slow down. Giggling and out of breath, I break the kiss.

“Nuh-uh, remember last time? Not gonna happen again.”

Mikey huffs and rolls his eyes. “That was one time!”

Laughing, I shake my head and lean down to kiss him again. His hands are everywhere, on my ass, my hips, then sliding up my back underneath my shirt. With skilled fingers, he unclasps my bra, pulling the straps off my arms. As it falls between us, I take it and blindly throw it into the room behind us. Faintly, I hear it hitting the floor before my attention focuses on Mikey’s hands sliding up my tummy and letting his thumbs brush over that spot on my ribs.

I gasp and grind my hips down harder, making him chuckle. In response, I capture his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging and sucking on it a little before releasing it. Can’t have the boy think he’s got the upper hand in this.

But he still thinks he does. His hands find my tits, and the triumphant grin on his face…

“Oh! Your nipples are hard! Is this turning you on, baby?”

Ugh! That boy!

“No, Mikey. Obviously not.” I roll my eyes and snort. “And what about you? I’m sure you find it absolutely terrible to have me grinding in your lap, hm? As hard as your cock is.”

“Hatin’ it.” He grins and pinches my nipples. “You know what I’d like better?” He leans in, his breath hot against my neck. “If the two of us got naked.”

“Hm, yeah… Now that you’re saying it… that does sound like a good idea.”

Scrambling to my feet, I’m quick to slide down my jogging shorts. I’m about to take off my shirt, when Mikey gets up and stands right in front of me… Entirely naked. Damn, he’s quick!

“Lemme do it?”

I just nod, lifting my arms to assist him, but of course, he takes his sweet time, letting the tips of his fingers glide up my skin underneath the fabric. Of course, he has to squeeze my tits when he reaches them, but he lifts the shirt over my face too quickly for me to glare at him. It doesn’t stop me from trying, though. Once the shirt is off my body and Mikey sees my face, he can’t suppress a chuckle and quickly kisses the tip of my nose to make the glare disappear. To his credit, it works. A hot flush gathers in my cheeks, and I quickly turn around, searching the room for… Damn.

“Be right back,” I tell Mikey over my shoulder, taking off my panties to toss at him, but I’ve already dashed through the door before I know if I hit him or not.

Not even a minute later, I come back to the living room, finding Mikey still where I had left him, with my panties in his hands, grinning to himself, most likely proud of himself for getting me to soak them that much.

“What do you want with that?” he asks once he notices I’m back, eyes on the towel in my hand.

“Well… I thought that Will would appreciate it if he didn’t come home to cum stains on the couch.” I shrug.

“Ohhh, yeah… Probably.”

He takes the towel from my hand and puts it down on the couch, then sits down on it. Mikey pats his thighs, signaling for me to sit, but I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh!” He grins sheepishly, realizing what I’m looking at and quickly tosses my panties to the floor. He doesn’t even manage to pat his lap again before I climb on top of him. With one hand on my hip, the other on my neck, Mikey pulls me closer until my lips meet his, and the length of his cock rubs against my pussy.

I start to grind my hips into him, throwing my head back at the friction. I feel Mikey’s breath heavy on my neck, then his soft lips on my tender skin. His hands grip me tighter as I move on his cock, pulling my hips deeper into him. By now, the hand he had on my neck has wandered to the back of my head, tugging at my hair to keep my throat exposed to his kisses. I’m sure my neck will be covered in hickeys tomorrow. There’ll be bruises on my hip, too. Fuck! The thought of carrying his marks makes me even wetter.

“Bunny, I need you,” Mikey pants against my neck. I nod, and he lets me go, so I can sit up. He grips his cock to guide himself in as I hover above his lap, steadying myself with my hands on his shoulders.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Just a second.”

Oh… yeah… Mikey and tits, how could I forget? With my chest on eye level, of course Mikey has to bury his face into it, peppering kisses all over my boobs, sucking and biting at my nipples until I’m a whimpering mess, swaying my hips in the search for friction, inches away from his cock.

“Okay, ready.” He grins, his free hand coming up to my hip to help me ease down on him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! No matter how many times we do it, I’ll never get used to his size. The delicious stretch of being seated on him all the way has me panting.

“Good girl.”

“Mhh.”

For a moment, I just sit there, resting my head against his shoulder while feeling him pulse inside me. I smile against his skin when he begins to gently stroke my back. His hands shift down to my waist when I start to roll my hips slowly. He squeezes my hips, making me lift up and brace myself on his shoulders.

Gasping, I relish in the feeling of his cock stroking every spot inside me. I go faster. Harder. His hands shift even lower, grabbing at my butt and guiding my movements.

"Fuck," we sigh in unison, before breaking in a fit of giggles. With heaving breath, I smile at him, wiping a strand of sweaty hair from his brow before cradling the back of his head in my hands, leaning in to kiss him. He kisses back instantly, tongue swiping along my lower lip to request entrance. Opening my mouth for him, I let his tongue explore my mouth, sucking on it and trying to fight for dominance. We both moan into the kiss, the movement of our hips growing more sloppy, rushed.

"Hey, uh… Oh."

We jump at the familiar voice. Wide-eyed, we turn towards the door, where we find a very flustered looking Will. The thud of his bag hitting the floor makes my eyes snap to his hand that dropped it, then the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans. Once my eyes find his face again, I can spot the hint of a smirk playing around his lips.

"Uhm." Mikey's voice is a little shaky. I feel him twitch inside me. I look back at him, raising my eyebrows in question. He gives me a nod and grinning, I nod back.

"Will! C'mere." I turn towards him and gesture for him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment before finally taking determined steps towards Mikey and me.

Standing in front of us, Will leans down to meet my face. his hand reaches up to caress my cheek and I lean into it, missing the gentle touch when his hand wanders down. I gasp when I feel his fingers lightly squeezing my throat, my eyes fluttering shut when he gets even closer. His kiss is still rougher than expected, his tongue claiming dominance right away. I feel myself clenching around Mikey’s cock, a new wave of wetness soaking his lap. Will breaks the kiss way too soon. I try to chase his lips as he pulls back, but he keeps my head in place with his hand around my throat. Smiling while I pout at him, he turns to Mikey.

“Has she been good?”

I feel Mikey shuffle to sit up straighter. A moment passes before he can answer, stunned and with his mouth hanging open slightly. “Yes.” Another moment before he adds an uncertain “...sir?”

Will just nods before finally sitting down right next to Mikey. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me too?”

All I can do is bite my lip and nod. As a reward he grabs my neck again and pulls me in for another deep kiss that leaves me breathless.

Feeling Mikey’s cock twitch inside me, I start grinding on him again. Hot breath against my ear and suddenly there is a pair of lips sucking on my neck. I whimper against Will’s lips when Mikey starts to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin below my ear.

Once Will allows me a moment to breathe again, I kiss my way down to his neck. It’s so much rougher than Mikey’s, the well grown out stubble leaves my lips tingling. I feel him turning his head and his Adam's apple bob against my kiss. At first I think it was to give me better access, but from above me I hear the unmistakable sound of a hesitant but needy kiss.

Are they- ? Oh fuck, why is that so hot?

Mikey must have felt me squeezing around him because a moment later his hand that was still on my body pushes me to adjust on his cock by the small of my back, nudging against that spot, making me gasp. Being so focused on the changed sensation inside of me, I haven’t even noticed how my nails have started to dig into Will’s chest, until I hear his groan. It wasn’t a pained groan, more like he was enjoying it. Maybe even a little too much. I took that for a sign to take the next step and while he and Mikey are still making out, I start to unbutton Will’s shirt, kissing and nibbling at every inch of skin I uncovered, making sure to scrape my nails down his chest as I go. The lower I go, the more he tangles his fingers into my hair, pushing me further. Once I reach the waistline of his jeans, nuzzle my nose against the thick hair of his happy trail and look up at him with big eyes.

“Can I?” I ask, with my hands on his thighs, close to his crotch.

“Can you what? C’mon, be a good girl. Use your words.”

Wow, those three months really changed him.

I swallow a little nervously and nod before I try again. “Can I take your cock out? I wanna taste it.”

Waiting for an answer, I watch as Mikey sucks on the side of Will’s neck, making him throw his head back and groan.

“Please… sir?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you can.”

With eager fingers I unbutton his jeans and fumble a little before I manage to pull down the zipper. Already starting to drool with anticipation, I tug at his boxers. He lifts his hips to help me and finally I’m met with the sight of his hard cock springing free.

He is a bit thicker than Mikey, but they’re about the same length. Taking hold of him, I give the head a gentle little kiss before sticking out my tongue to collect the small drop of pre cum leaking from the tip.

“Mmm, good girl,” Will hums and strokes my hair. “Suck on it, c’mon.”

I nod before I take him in my mouth, just the head, suckling on it and toying with it a little with my tongue.

The moan that comes out of his mouth… I’ve never heard anything sexier. It has me squeezing around Mikey unconsciously.

“Fuuuuuck,” I hear him mutter into Will’s neck.

The wave of confidence that washes over me at the fact I’m pleasuring not one but two men makes me take Will deeper into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and press my tongue against the underside of his cock, slowly taking more of him. As I keep bobbing my head up and down his grip on my hair becomes tighter and more and more moans fall from his mouth .

The tingling sensation that spreads through my body from that makes me try to take him even deeper, until I start gagging and my eyes begin to water. By now, my nose is pressing into his hip.

“I can’t… I can’t!” I suddenly hear Mikey wheeze. Will immediately lets go of my hair and I hurry to get off Mikey’s lap.

“What is it?”

I’m stunned at how calmly Will asks that while I’m staring at a panting Mikey, almost panicking.

“I fucking need…” he wheeses again. Both Will and I stare at him, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “... to get off!”

I let out a sigh of relief, watching Will chuckle and playfully nudge Mikey with his elbow. The younger man smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head.

“I was serious about it, though. So-” he drags out the word “- can we like… get started?”

I nod slowly, feeling their eyes on me, and look towards Will for guidance.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks me gently, and I shrug, unsure. “Okay then, c'mere.”

While I get closer, he stands up and rearranges the towel so it covers most of the couch and drapes over the armrest, causing Mikey to jump up as well.

“Now, can you get on your hands and knees for us?” Will nearly coos, still it feels like he’s giving no room for discussion. “Isn’t she such a good girl for us?” I can hear him ask Mikey, now behind my back, and I can only imagine Mikey nodding while giving Will puppy dog eyes. “And you? You’re gonna be a good boy for us and let her suck you off.” Again, no room for discussion.

I shuffle closer to the couch's armrest, balancing my weight on my elbows on it, and give Mikey a reassuring nod. He swallows a little nervously, looking at Will, who's getting into position behind me. I lean forward to give Mike a small kiss to his hip bone, then nuzzle my face against the base of his cock. He cups my cheek with one hand, stroking his thumb across my bottom lip when I lean into him, while his other hand grips the base of his cock. I open my lips a bit and suckle on the tip of his thumb as he gently brings my face and himself into position. He pulls his finger from my mouth and I open my lips wider, giving the tip of his cock a little lick, looking up at him through my lashes to see his reaction. He groans and throws his head back. That’s when I take the head in my mouth and start playing with it with my tongue.

Behind me, Will puts a hand on my hip to hold me steady, with the other, he grabs is cock and swipes it up and down on my lips, coating himself in my juices.

“Fuck, you’re so wet!” He groans and pushes in a little. I let out a moan around Mikey’s cock, making him shiver in response. Will slowly keeps pushing in, a deep moan escaping him once he bottoms out. I can only whimper around Mikey’s cock, feeling so full already.

“Now just stay still, baby, we’ve got you,” Will says, if a little bit strained. I nod as much as I can and look up at Mikey, who’s still holding my face. He pushes himself a little bit deeper into my mouth. I can still taste myself on him as I suck. Will starts moving, thrusting in a slow and steady rhythm, pushing me down on Mikey’s cock with every time his hips meet mine. Again, I moan around Mikey, whose hands start wandering to my hair and grips it to push himself further down my throat. My eyes begin to water when Will picks up the pace, making me take Mikey even deeper. The room is filled with the beautifully filthy sounds of the two men groaning in erotic harmony, skin slapping on skin and my strangled moans as I gag around Mikey’s cock.

“You’re being so good, bunny,” Mikey praises, breathing heavily. “So good for us,” Will adds. “Letting us use you like a little slut.” I can’t help but whimper at that, squeezing around Will’s cock.

“Oh? Did you like that?” Will leans down closer to my ear, whispering, “You like it when I call you slut?” I nod as much as I can with Mikey in my mouth. “You’re so filthy. Nothing more than a toy for us to use.”

He fucks me harder, making me whimper and take Mikey even deeper. Tears are beginning to stream down my face, but it all feels so good. I can’t help but clench around him, the coil in my belly starting to tighten.

So it takes me by surprise when Will suddenly slows to a stop. A little out of breath he says, “This isn’t it. Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Mikey nods, pulling from my mouth and Will picks me up, carrying me over to the bedrooms. My mind is far too lazy to see whose bedroom we end up in when Will tosses me onto the bed with a bounce.

“Let your head hang over the edge. Yes, just like this, good girl.”

I watch upside down as Mikey kneels down by my head, positioning himself. I open my mouth widely, obediently and he pushes his cock back into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I start sucking on him again as Will climbs up over me, kneels on the bed and grabs my thighs. He doesn’t make me wait long and thrusts back in in one smooth movement. I moan loudly around Mikey’s cock when he bottoms out, finally feeling full again. Complete, in a sense.

Before he begins to thrust, though, he pulls my hips up onto his legs, making me arch my back and take Mikey deeper down my throat. All three of us moan in sinful harmony, skin slapping and wet slurping composing a filthy melody of bliss. With the new angle, I can feel the burning coil tightening faster as the tip of Will’s cock strokes all the spots perfectly, the base of him rubbing against my clit. My moans rise in pitch, even muffled by Mikey fucking my face. His hips begin to stutter, he’s close as well. Will, of course, notices that and picks up his pace, fucking me faster.

Fuck! This feels so good!

Mikey’s groans mix with little gasps as I feel him twitch. He’s close, I can tell. I use my tongue to play with him, eliciting little whimpers from him.

“S-sir, ‘m so close… can I cum? Please?” Mikey begs between little gasps and whines.

“Go a-head,” Will tells him, his own voice strained as well. I brace myself, sucking Mikey harder. A few more thrusts into my mouth and he stills, whimpering loudly as his warm load hits my tongue. I swallow it down eagerly, but gasp when he pulls out of my mouth. I take a few deep breaths as I watch him stand and jerk himself, another, smaller load landing on my chest.

“Fuuuck,” he groans.

“Good boy,” Will praises him, doubling his efforts now, fucking me even harder. His hand comes up to my chest, grabbing and kneading my tits for a moment before swiping two fingers through Mike’s cum and bringing those fingers down to my clit, drawing slow but firm circles around the little bud. I cry out, clenching hard around him. The coil keeps growing tighter until it… Snaps. With a high pitched moan, I fall over the edge, white hot bliss carrying me as my body writhes in pleasure. Through a haze I can hear Will groan and feel a warmth spreading inside me. I open up my eyes to see him hovering above me, dipping his head down to meet my lips in a passionate kiss. I kiss him back eagerly, letting our tongues fight for dominance until we need to stop for air. Will sits up again, reaches out an arm and pulls in Mikey for a just as passionate kiss. I watch them, a satiated smile on my face. I get up on my knees, squeezing between them to kiss their necks and chests alternately. Once the part, the three of us collapse on the bed naked and panting, a tangled mess of limbs.

“You know…” Mikey breathes heavily, “we were going to throw you a welcome home partly…”

Will chuckles at that, “You still could…”

I just shake my head, giggling. “Let’s just order pizza.”

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shieldofiron · 8 months

Text

Heaven's On Fire

Also on Ao3

They used to kiss like it was fighting.

Freshman year, both of their freshman years, and they were fifteen and hopped up on hormones and anger. It was the first boy girl party and Carver’d been bitching all night.

So when spinning the bottle kept landing on him, Eddie kissed him like a fight. Bit Jason’s bottom lip so hard it almost broke. When they had to spend seven minutes in heaven, they made it hell, rolling around in Denise Sandderson’s coat closet, making the wire hangers bang together.

It wasn’t even kissing, then. Wasn’t kissing when Eddie started dealing and Jason would come over to score and he took his first hit from a shotgun, his lips bruised by Eddie’s. They both got held back that year, both had something to prove to each other when Jason would strut around like big man on campus. As if he didn’t groan when Eddie sucked hickey’s just below the collar of his uniform, and Jason wouldn’t take Eddie’s hand and wrap it around his own neck, making Eddie squeeze until they both gasped. A dance only they knew the steps to.

It was just fighting, a new kind of bullying and bullying back where Jason would straddle Eddie’s lap and suck on his tongue like he was trying to rip it out.

It didn’t count, no way it could count.

It was after another boy girl party when they actually kissed for the first time. Chrissy had just broken up with Jason- long time coming if you asked Eddie- and he’d been bitchy all day. Eddie was just counting the minutes until everyone was too drunk to notice and he and Jason would sneak off behind the woodshed, or to a closet, like always.

But he didn’t show, even long after the party was almost empty and Eddie’s lunchbox was empty.

Eddie ought to take the cue that he should go home, but the house was just a few doors down from Jason’s house, and he’d noticed that Jason’s parents car was missing, which meant they were out at one of their Bible retreats or hunting trips, whatever they did that had Jason all alone.

He’s never been there, but he guessed from the light that was on, that Jason was up in his bedroom.

Halfway up the tree, he kind of wondered what the fuck he was doing. Was he really about to knock on Jason Carver’s window and say… what? Why weren’t you there for me to make out with? Sorry about your girlfriend except I’m not all that sorry, she should have dumped your ass long ago.

And while he’s hanging off the tree, wallet chain swinging in the breeze, Jason walks by the window and freezes.

With nothing else to do, Eddie tries to wave and almost falls the fuck out of the tree.

Jason makes this big dramatic sigh like it’s a huge imposition for him to open the window, “You ever heard of knocking?”

“Thought you wouldn’t want me to be seen at your house.”

“Yeah,” Jason snorts, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, “This is so much less inconspicuous.”

He’s been crying, Eddie can see it now. Not cute crying either, like when Billy Hargrove has had a few and gets misty eyed. Jason’s face is puffy and red, uncomfortable looking.

“You ok?”

“Why are you here?” Jason spits back.

Eddie doesn’t have a satisfactory answer, so he feigns ignorance, “Chrissy came without you to the party, I thought you might be sick.”

“So you came over to where I was sick?”

“I’m… high?” He wasn’t really, a light secondary buzz off other people’s smoke. But it was plausible enough that Jason’s shoulders relax.

“Got any left?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Its Eddie’s own joint, which he offers on fingers splintered from the window frame after he flips into Jason’s room.

Jason doesn’t wait for a blowback, just goes to the other side of the room to light it, as much distance between them as possible.

“We broke up,” Jason says, his face a mask of anger.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I kinda am. Sorry, Jason.”

Jason takes a rough puff, and then another.

“She… uh…” Eddie sputters.

“She broke up with me because I’m… I’ve been cheating on her,” Jason sniffs, handing the joint over, “So.”

“With who?”

It’s only after a few moments of Jason’s pointed silence that Eddie gets it.

“Right, but that doesn’t count,” Eddie says with a chuckle, waving the joint in the air.

“Get the fuck out,” Jason roars. His cheeks have gone bright pink.

“I just meant-“

“I shoulda pushed you out of the tree.”

“You…” Eddie’s brow furrows, “Thought it counted.”

Jason just draws a breath, his nostrils flaring. The way they do before a fight and before…

Jason’s hand is at his jaw and his other hand is fisted in Eddie’s jacket. It’s like it’s always been. He crowds Eddie back against his little desk, and Eddie’s wondering why he never climbed through Jason’s window. Could have gotten him in his cute little bed with the blue comforter and…

Jason’s lips tremble against his, and it’s just instinct, Eddie pushes forward… but Jason pulls back, falling out of step with their regular dance. His cheek is hot when Eddie puts his hand there, and Eddie’s heart flips like a pancake in his chest.

He kisses softly, Jason’s upper lip, his lower lip, they part and Eddie explores tentatively, fascinated. Jason’s crying, Eddie can taste the tears at the corner of his mouth. He kisses them away, painting his cheeks with tiny pecks, cradling Jason’s jaw. Jason was soft and pliant in his arms, and it was like Eddie could feel him for the first time. The tension running under the surface, muscles rolling beautifully when Jason threw his arms around Eddie’s neck and melted.

Eddie’s hand fell to Jason’s chest and Jason yelped, springing back. His little blue polo had caught fire from the joint now smoldering threateningly at their feet. Eddie stomped it out under his boots while Jason whipped his shirt off.

When he finally looked up, Eddie was grinning and Jason was pale and bloodless, his blue eyes shining with hurt.

“I… just… can’t do this anymore.”

Eddie picked up the smashed joint and threw it into the wastepaper basket under the desk, “Do what?”

“… screwing around. It’s messing with my head.”

“You gonna get another girlfriend?” Eddie’s heart sank.

“Dunno.” Jason shrugs, looking down.

“What if… we did something else.”

“Like what?” Jason blinked.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Jason’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Not screwing around.” Eddie clarified.

Jason just blinks up at him, “You’re fucking with me. That’s not f-fucking funny.”

But he doesn’t pull his hand away, so Eddie can tug him closer. Eddie sits on the edge of the desk and fits Jason between his knees.

“You’re really gonna fight me on this?” Eddie whispers.

“I just… can’t… you’re messing with my head.”

Eddie ran his fingers along the bridge of Jason’s collarbone, “I didn’t know… I thought it was just you trying to… fight me or something…”

“I…”

“Kiss me, again. Please, Jason,” Eddie smiles.

It wasn't like fighting. Not like fucking either. Turns out Jason could kiss sweet when he wanted, all trembling fingers and watery blue eyes. Eddie didn't fight anymore, he just surrendered to the dance.

---

For @dragonflylady77 to make you smile

#Munver #Tigerfreak #Tigerfreak meme #jason carver #eddie munson #jason x eddie #eddie x jason

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4joonkookie · 10 months

Text

The Local ♡

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Words: 3.6K

Summary: How Taehyung and O/C met :) Smut, flirting, and skinny-sipping. Can be read alone or be read in the CIGARETTE BURNS universe.

Notes/Tags: SMUT, angst, one-night stand, sex, drinking, cigarettes, skinny-dipping, Taeconda is real, build up at the beginning and smut at the end.

♡♡♡

Opening your eyes and propping up on your elbows, you look around the unfamiliar room.

Where am I?

Whose bed is this?

What happened last night?

Your weary eyes aren’t open long before they instinctively shut due to the throbbing pain in your head.

Trying to keep the brief image alive behind your eyelids, you attempt to nail down where you are. This bedroom is as big as your whole apartment and is unfamiliar.

“Good morning,” a voice says from the other side of the bed, and your eyes shoot open to look over at the barely familiar stranger.

“You were pretty gone last night,” he says, tilting his head. “You remember?”

Letting out a painful groan, you rub your eyes and lay back on the pillows. “If you were there, maybe you should tell me.”

“Well, you went pretty hard for a Wednesday,” he says, scrolling on his phone. Then, he looks over at you. “No judgment,” he adds.

He sits up under the blanket with no shirt. Lifting the covers, you peek beneath to confirm your suspicions. And again, your eyes fall shut, head collapsing on the pillows in regret.

“You don’t remember,” he remarks and sighs sarcastically. “My poor ego.” He places his phone on his lap, offering you his undivided attention.

You open your mouth to snark at him before it hits you. “What day did you say it was?”

“Yesterday was Wednesday, so today is...” He trails off.

You leap out of bed, clutching pillows to your naked body, panicking. “What time is it?”

“Five after ten,” he says, standing from the bed in unabashed nudity. You quickly dart your eyes.

“Shit.” You scramble around, searching for your clothes, phone, or anything. The trail of your belongings leads the way out of the bedroom.

“What's the rush?” He asks, following you around the living room.

“My chem final starts in ten minutes and I can't even begin to fathom the levels of screwed I'll be if I miss it,” you sputter, struggling to get last night's crumpled, inside-out clothes on.

“Can I have your number?” he asks, helping you get your head through your shirt collar. “I'd love to see you again.”

You give a dismissive wave of your hands. “Look. If we meet again, we can call it ‘Meant To Be’ and start fresh. It’s not like I remember a thing that happened, anyway.” You tuck the last of your belongings into the crook of an arm. “Right now? I’m late.”

He heads down the hallway leading back to the bedroom, and you rush to the front door, unable to even consider giving this guy another second.

And you stop as your hand reaches the doorknob, realizing you haven’t answered your waking question.

Where am I?

Turning, you’re relieved to see he’s returned from the hall. Only now, he’s carrying aspirin and a water bottle, handing them to you.

“Where am I?” you ask, frantic. “How do I get to campus?” Wondering if you're even close enough to make it in the next 8 minutes.

“I can drive you_” He starts to offer.

“Like this?” you retort, eyes glancing down at his bare presentation and sighing heavily. “Can I get there on foot?” you ask, taking the aspirin and cracking open the water bottle.

He exhales, finally giving in. “Run 2 blocks at full speed that way and you just might make it,” he points.

“Thanks,” and you're out in a flash, run-of-shaming your way to campus.

“What's your name?!" He shouts down the hall behind you, peeking his head out the door.

You ignore him and continue dashing, all the while scolding yourself. It serves you right for celebrating the end of the semester too soon.

♡♡

That night, you’re at the bar again with the morning’s hangover a distant memory. It's crowded as everyone celebrates the actual end of the semester.

You arrive with Jungkook, a neighbor you’ve been hooking up with for a few weeks, planned to spend the evening hanging with a mixed group of friends.

You approach the bar on your own for a drink. Your eyes scan the crowd as you wait for the bartender. They stop on someone familiar.

A few patrons down, there he is. The dark and gorgeous one-night stand, looking straight at you with a cocked eyebrow, pleasantly surprised to see you.

You look down at the bar top, chuckling to yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, he struts toward you and stops short, sitting a couple of stools away. He leaves the first move to you.

You sit down on the closest stool and sip your drink. Looking anywhere but ahead, at the risk of seeing JK or meeting eyes with this stranger, feeling the heat on both sides of you.

Unable to help yourself, you catch his eye, noticing the onset of a coy smirk at the corners of his lips.

He’s stubborn and not giving in. He knows you’re intrigued by this silent game. The push and pull of it all.

He moves over one stool closer and your shoulders are almost touching.

You give in, but maintain looking ahead.

“Are you gonna ask how my final went?”

Just then, a friend shouts your name, greeting you with a wave as she passes.

He repeats your name, running his tongue over his bottom lip. Like he’s trying to taste it.

“How was your chem final? Did you even make it on time?” He asks.

“Barely. And I barely squeaked out a C.”

“But you did. I’m proud of you. Cheers,” he celebrates, lifting his glass.

He sips his drink, and it gets quiet for a moment. You feel the need to fill the silence, adding on.

“And thanks for the aspirin. It really staved off the headache.”

“You’re welcome,” he says in a questionable tone, going up slightly at the end.

Suspicious, you continue your train of thought. “And thank you for letting me crash at your place. I was pretty far gone and anything could’ve happened to me.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re welcome, and I don’t need any thanks. It was the thing to do.” He pauses before continuing. “Plus, you were pretty insistent.”

You scoff and glare at him. “I was not.”

“Oh, has your memory suddenly returned?” He snarks, playfully, but you shut up “I just wanted to take you somewhere safe to crash, but, we got home and you totally mauled me.”

“I mauled you?!” you squawk in disbelief.

“Yes, you mauled me and took what you wanted from me and then you just woke up, brushed me off, and ran out without even telling me your name,” he says, nodding and pointing his index finger. “You were an ass.”

He feels equally honest and playful, but you can tell he’s serious about that part. And you take a deep breath to reflect and ease the pang of guilt that washes over you.

“You’re right. I am an ass. I’m sorry for brushing you off and rushing out. You were so sweet to offer to drive me, too.”

“I know,” he says, milking this for every drop.

“Should I apologize for mauling you? Or…” you joke.

“No, I liked that part,” he smirks, and a flutter sinks down to your gut. Landing like more of a punch.

“Is my tongue-lashing over now?”

“For now,” he replies, offering a wink that sends a second set of flutters to your stomach faster than the first time. He signals the bartender for the next round.

“So you said something before?”

You roll your eyes, knowing where this is going. “Yeah?”

“You said, if we met again, it must be ‘meant to be’.”

“I said that,” you confirm. And you’re suddenly reminded of JK, the last time you knew it was ‘meant to be with a guy’.

It still does.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day and I played out all the ways it might happen.” He looks off into the distance. Maybe we’d meet up 5 or 10 years from now and the timing is right. Or… maybe I’d be thinking about that girl that ran out of my apartment so rudely and never see her again. But it’s neither." He smiles, and it’s too sweet. “Today is the day.”

“Well, you’re quite the romantic.”

He chuckles, sipping his drink. “Something like that.”

“Taehyung,” he says, extending his hand. “So. Your finals are out of the way. We’ve exchanged names and agreed we’re meant to be,” he says, like he’s checking things off a list. “What do you say about making this an at least 2-night stand?”

“Ok,” you reply.

You shuffle on your feet, knowing you’ve already made plans with JK, but you can’t deny the attraction to this stranger.

“You wanna get out of here?” He suggests.

“Sure.” looking around and nervous. “Just…Give me a minute, ok?”

“You're not gonna run out on me, are you?” he asks. “You can just say ‘no’.”

And you believe him.

“I'm saying ‘yes’,” you assure, placing a hand on his chest. “I just need to check-in with someone.”

♡♡

After poorly excusing yourself, you follow Taehyung outside the bar. It doesn’t seem like Jungkook picked up on anything.

“So, who’s he?” He asks as you stroll down the sidewalk.

You think about it. “My neighbor is the best way to put it.”

“I saw you guys together last night. He looks like a drip.”

“He isn't,” you defend.

“Then why didn't you go home with him last night?” He snarks.

“Unlike me, he would never get trashed the night before a big final. He went home at a decent hour, before it all went black.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes. “So why didn’t you go home with him tonight?” he smirks.

Slightly peeved, you change the subject. “Why are you dressed like that?” You hardly ever see a guy in a button-up and slacks around here.

“I graduated last year, but I work just nearby.”

“Yeah? What do you do?”

“Private equity & Investment banking”

You cackle. “Speaking of a drip.”

“Touché.”

Something about the banter is familiar. Memories from last night become less fuzzy as you talk.

“Was that your house?” You ask, remembering the massive mansion that certainly couldn’t be his.

“My parents. They’re vacationing in Europe for a few months.”

“So you’re from around here?” You ask, intrigued. “Ah, I haven’t met a local yet.”

“Born and raised,” he says.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t even know what exists outside of these few blocks around campus.”

He stops in his tracks, gazing at you. It’s hypnotic. “Let me show you?”

“Sure,” you nod, a little weary. “Where are we going?”

He reaches his hand out and pulls you in, kissing you. Soft. You inhale and pull away, feeling your body set on fire.

“A local spot. Are you up for an adventure?”

He unlocks his fancy car, opening the door for you to walk inside.

♡♡

A short drive later, he slows down a beaten path, through some woods, and parks beneath the trees.

“Is this the part of the story where I get murdered?” You ask, as he parks.

“No. My friends and I used to hang out here all the time. Let's go.”

You both head to the rear of the trunk, where he removes a duffel bag. He pulls a bottle of liquor from a side pocket, cracks the top, and sips from it. You take it and swig from it too, hiding the wince.

He carries the bag with him as you begin walking to the lake. It’s beautiful. Serene. The water is luminescent beneath the moonlight.

He lays out a blanket just by the shore and you walk up to the water, dipping your toes in. It’s cold and refreshing at once.

Taehyung lines up his body behind you, wrapping arms around your waist. He kisses down the line of your neck and over your shoulders.

“And how many times have you done this?”

“Done what?” He asks. His voice is like honey.

“How many girls have you brought to this spot? With the blanket by the lake and the charming moonlight reflecting on the water?” You mock, craning your neck back to face him.

You’re on to all of his antics and want to make sure he knows.

“Plenty,” he admits, and you’re taken aback by his honesty. “But none from out of town,” he offers. He kisses you deep before you can speak and it works.

He pulls away and starts removing his clothes.

“Who’s eager now?” You tease.

“Well, we can't swim in our clothes.”

The realization slowly dawns on you when he pauses his motion at his fly.

“Are you in?”

You think for just a moment and remove your clothes, handing them over. He tosses them on top of the blanket.

He walks past you and directly into the lake, ducking his head below the surface before reemerging.

“You coming?” He asks, backtracking to where you’re only ankle-deep in the cool water. “Come on.”

“I’m coming,” you say, inching your way in.

“Do it faster,” he says.

“It’s cold,” you whine back.

He makes a huge splash and you gasp, sprayed from head to toe.

“Faster,” he says, splashing again, and you chase him into the water. Horse playing, splashing, wrestling, and erupting in giggles at the surface.

You settle, wrapped around each underwater. The noise settles.

“I was trying not to get my hair wet,” you scold.

“Why?” He asks, and you regret mentioning it.

“Cause it’s gonna…” you gesture wildly around your head. “Dry all weird.”

“Yesterday, I watched you barf into my mother’s rose bushes. I think we’re past that level of modesty.”

You shut your eyes in utter embarrassment. It’s bad enough it happened, but you can’t even remember.

“No, I didn’t,” you tell yourself out loud.

“Yes, you did,” he laughs.

You let go of his body and sink yourself underwater, playfully wishing you can sink to the bottom forever.

He gets hands under your shoulders and hoists you up, amused. Placing you back where you were around his torso.

“Why would you even want to see me again?” You ask, shaking your head.

He looks at you for a moment, perplexed.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There’s just something about you, I guess,” he says, and you’re not sure how to reply. He breaks the silence. “I mean, besides you being an eager lay,” he adds.

“Jerk,” you say, splashing. Then you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, arms draped around his shoulders.

“I’m really going to have to refresh your memory, huh?” pressing your lips to his. He pushes closer to you, feeling his hard cock press against you.

“Oh,” you mutter. He’s hard on the thrill. It’s huge.

“Things are slowly coming back to me,” you say, kissing his lips.

“Like what?”

“I remember it hurt to walk this morning, much less run to class.”

He smiles, nods shyly. “Well, that’s something.”

“And your voice. I don’t remember meeting, but I remember that once I heard your voice, I needed to take you somewhere.”

He kisses you, wading in the water. “And you did. And you had your way with me.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. And you duck your head into his shoulder.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You were taking exactly what you wanted. It was hot.

“And I wanted it too. I could’ve just put you in a car and sent you home if all I wanted was for you to get home safe.”

You push his wet hair back from his face. He continues.

“Last night, you told me you and your friends from home would hang out by the lake. That’s why I brought you here.

♡♡

After a while (and some making out), you’re making your way back to the shore.

Laying you back on the blanket, his eyes go narrow, looking at you like prey to be devoured. His fingertips are between your thighs, sending electricity up your spine as he lines himself between your knees.

You kiss wildly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses his naked body against you.

Reaching down, you grab his hard length, guiding him to the center.

You gasp when he presses the tip inside. He stays there for a while, stretching you wide.

“Oh shit,” you remark, feeling how big it is inside.

“Is that okay?”

“More,” you moan, gasping.

“Yeah?” and he pushes in deeper. “Greedy,” he says.

You nod and moan through a bitten lip. The hard ground scrapes against your back and you don’t care.

“Do you want more, Greedy?” he challenges, pulsing his tip in and out. “I’ve got plenty to give you.”

The nickname eggs you on and you feel yourself become different. Somehow darker, and hyper-focused.

“I want it to hurt,” you whisper, and it triggers him.

He shoves to the hilt and your ears ring. Three or four good thrusts, slapping into you. It feels like you might split in half in the best way.

He stops and looks at your face, wondering if you’ve had enough yet.

It’s a dare, a silent challenge.

And he pulls back and slams inside again. Your hands are braced over your lower belly, where you swear you can feel him bulging through. He grips your hips and lowers your body to him over and over.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he instructs, and you are uncaring of the world around you. Almost forgetting you’re in the woods.

“Bossy,” you seethe, looking up at him and bringing your legs further apart. You pull his head down for a kiss, biting his bottom lip and tasting blood.

He brings his hand to his mouth and swipes at the wound.

He slams in again and you yelp at the pressure on your cervix. He leans down to your face.

“Mouthy,” he seethes and covers his hand over your mouth. He watches as he pulls his cock slowly out, leaving you hopelessly empty. You whine behind the flesh of his palm.

“Turn over,” he instructs, stern. Never letting his hand leave your face. He uses his free hand to spank you. It’s hard, echoing into the trees.

You’re shocked, seeing spots for a moment and unsure what happened. But you find yourself asking for more.

“More,” you whine, muffled behind his hand.

He pulls his hand straight off your mouth, like he knows what you said.

“What was that, Greedy?” He asks, halting his motion.

You fuss beneath him, bucking your hips back, trying to take more of him in. He doesn’t cave.

“I can’t hear you, Greedy,” he says, twisting your hair into a ponytail in his hands and pulling up slightly.

“Again,” you cry, and he hits you again as he slams himself inside from behind. He resumes plowing, and it’s heaven. You're helpless as he rams inside. Gasping and panting, drool rolling down your chin.

He goes impossibly faster, and you grasp at the ground beneath you.

“So glad I get to be in this pussy again, fuck,” he moans. The slap echoes.

He pulls your hair back further, arching your back deeper. His warmth spills inside.

♡♡

You lay there for a while, panting and catching your breath, sitting in silence for a while and processing what just happened.

“Did we do that last night?” You ask, somewhat embarrassed and processing the name-calling, the spanking, and why you liked it so much.

“Do what?”

“Did you spank me?”

“No. You have to be in the right headspace for that type of thing. Besides, you took more of the lead last night.”

You nod.

“Was it okay?” He asks. “Was there anything you don’t want to do again?”

You think for a long time and he’s all ears. “It’s ok,” he whispers. “Think about it.”

You do and shake your head. You liked everything, you're just not sure why.

“This was fun,” he says, drying his damp hair with his shirt.

“Can I have your number?” You ask “I’d love to see you again,” parroting him from this morning.

He doesn’t respond, smiling and removing a pack of cigarettes from the bag and offering you one.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” you say.

“Oh?” he laughs. “You did last night.”

You’re mortified, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m not smoking right now,” you correct.

He takes a drag and gazes at you, slowly handing the lit cigarette over. A challenge.

Accepting it, you take a drag, holding it deep before letting it out.

“Mmm, you look good like this,” he comments.

You shrug. “There’s something about every cigarette I smoke being the ‘last one ever’,” you say, taking another drag. “Makes it that much better each time I smoke one.”

He nods. “What I meant is, you look good when you’re doing exactly what you want.”

Smiling, you pass it back to him. He continues. “So, you're seeing that guy? Your neighbor?”

“Sort of,” you shrug.

“Sounds kind of messy,” he remarks.

And you’re a little resentful at the accusation. He passes the cig back to you.

“It’s nothing serious.”

“Either way, I just want to be upfront. I like hanging out and I want to see you again, but I don't really do relationships.”

“I'm not asking for one,” you say, taking another draw.

“I'm just saying. If you're seeing other people, and you like them, you should keep seeing them. I prefer to keep things pretty casual.”

“Ok.”

He leans over to kiss you amidst the smoke. The night is quiet, silent, except for the hum of the woods and the stillness of the water nearby.

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 4 months

Note

Prompts! Prompts! Prompts!

19. Man... That's going to stain (whichsoever way your heart takes you) please and thank you!

Angus was abuzz, the tips of his sneakers nearly lifting off the ground in anticipation. Carey had been kind enough to offer him rogue lessons since he became a fully fledged Bureau member. It was his enthusiastic, but non-expert lurking that got him into the Bureau in the first place, and Carey said he should learn from the best.

Lock picking was east enough, usually. Sometimes it was tedious in a way that made sweat drip into Angus's eyes, but usually it was almost relaxing. Meditative.

Sneaking was something Angus was already quite used to. See, for some reason, people usually resented his detective work on big cases. But if he was sneaky enough, there was nothing to worry about. Usually. Unless a dragonborn caught sight of him almost immediately. Then there was a little worry.

What gave Angus the most pause was the pickpocketing of it all. Carey assured him that she wasn't teaching him this for nefarious deeds or anything, but he worried that knowledge of it would tempt him into using it for nefarious deeds. And a young man like him had no business getting tangled up in a seedy criminal underground, even on a secret moon base. But Carey said that the practice was necessary. So she very carefully planted items on fellow Bureau members that he was meant to retrieve. And he did, to varying degrees of success.

His final test was to simply steal a button from Carey. Nothing too difficult. But he knew better than to think this was the kind of test he could just breeze through. Stealing the button was one thing. Making sure she couldn’t steal it back was a whole other ordeal.

His plan started at dawn. Carey usually ran laps around the campus before daylight broke. She’d usually do a few minutes of stretches before that. That was his sweet spot for actually getting a button. The rest of his day would be dedicated to his grand plan.

His heart pounded so loud in his chest he worried that that was what was going to alert Carey to his presence. But a featherlight touch while she was stretching out her shoulders and Angus had succeeded.

It felt too easy.

But, he was free to scamper off and squirrel the button away out of sight.

–

For most of the day, Angus kept checking over his shoulder, certain he was going to be discovered. But Carey was unseen all day. That worried Angus more, honestly. She moved like smoke.

So he let his guard down. It was silly, it was during dinner and he should have known that that would be when he was at his most vulnerable. But he took his bag off and set it beside himself to dig into his meal.

Of course, quick as a child’s wish, Carey was beside him. Clutched in her hand was the small box Angus hid the button in. She wasn’t smug, per se, but she was in the neighborhood.

“That was a good try, Angus! You put up a pretty good fight,” She said.

Angus frowned. “Well, Miss Carey, aren’t you going to open the box? Make sure you got the button and not just a rock or an acorn?”

Carey shrugged before running a claw over the locking mechanism on the outside of the box. Angus ducked as he heard a pneumatic whoosh escape the box.

When he looked up, Carey was covered in a thin, hot pink, glittery ink.

“First rule of roguing, Miss Carey. Always assume there’s a trap,” Angus said, a mischievous grin overtaking his face.

She let out a sigh. “You got me there, kid. Man. This is gonna stain, huh?”

“Probably, Miss.”

A glint came to Carey’s eye. She held her arms open for a hug. “C’mon Ango, gimme a hug!” She cackled in laughter as Angus bolted, hoping to keep his fancy boy clothes from the carnage.

#rip (reeses in pieces)#noodyl-blasstal #reese writes #*taps mic* this thing on?#i can still write sometimes i promise #angus mcdonald #carey fangbattle #taz balance #taz fic

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mncxbe · 2 days

Text

#I WANNA FEEL YOU, I WANT IT ALL

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝒄𝒘: mentions of bullying, nsfw, reader discovers masturbation, inappropriate use of tentacles, mild degrading

when he joined the PS, Yoshida was taught that all devils were cunning, vicious creatures with an appetite for blood and carnage, but his opinion changed after he met you.

not too long ago, his superiors instructed him to keep an eye on a devil that recently appeared at his highschool. the mission seemed interesting enough considering that you were quite a mistery for the PS�� there were no records of your existence anywhere in their database, which meant that you were either a very old and incredibly powerful devil who had not once died in hell or you just spawned out of the blue in the heart of Tokyo. either way, his curiosity was piqued and he had great expectations.

those high hopes were shattered within hours of meeting you. with an obnoxious attitude, basically nonexistent knowledge of the human world and a tendency to get in trouble you were the epitome of stupidity. you were as bad as Denji, no. worse. at least the blond could listen to his orders. you on the other hand, seemed to go out of your way to make his life a living hell. "hiroooo why isn't this thing working?" you'd whine, kicking the vending machine in the school's cafeteria with the rounded tip of your glossy uniform shoe. he'd already explained you multiple times how the machine worked, but you just couldn't get it through your thick skull. oh, not to mention that you couldn't grasp the concept of money and went around stealing things from classrooms and the little shops close to the school campus. you were an absolute menace.

naturally, it wasn't long until you managed to piss of everyone else in your class and got into fights with the school's bullies. problem was, your body was so weak you couldn't even use an ounce of the powers you once had, so most of the times you ended up being a punching bag until Yoshida himself dragged you out of the fight and took care of your injuries.

"i fucking hate this" you mumbled under your breath, hissing sharply as the man before you patched up a shallow cut on your leg. "why can't you just give me some blood so I can heal?"

"because that way you'll never learn to behave. sorry, but you'll have to do it the hard way"

"meaning that I have to wait weeks for this damn cut to heal itself? no thanks" you huffed, trying to get off the desk you were perched up on but he quickly tightened his grip on your thigh, giving you an irked look "stay put" . surprisingly enough you complied and stuck to pouting in silence, occasionally shifting your weight to ease the tension in your body. soon after, Yoshida finished wrapping a thin layer of gauze around your thigh and motioned you to get out of his room.

"you know, you humans are so frail. your bodies are weak and basically useless. all they can feel is pain and hunger, it's so stupid" god... you just couldn't stop complaining. if you were anyone else Yoshida would've simply let it slide, but this was too good of an opportunity to mess with you.

neatly placing the bandages back in their designated place, Yoshida hummed "well, they're not really useless. there's some pretty cool stuff these bodies of ours can feel"

"oh, please enlighten me." you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest and lightly tapping your feet on the floor in expectancy, a nasty habit you picked up from one of your classmates. but there it was, you took the bait. with a nonchalant motion, the man pointed at your crotch. "there"

you gave him a quizzical look, your gaze lowering to your lap. "where?" Yoshida was once again baffled by your stupidity "between your legs, you idiot" he groaned, his eyebrows shooting up as you attempted to raise the hem of your skirt with your dainty fingers. "not here for fuck's sake. just... go to your room and figure it out yourself."

unbeknownst to him, you actually spent the whole night trying to figure out what his words meant. at first you didn't really know what to do, simply standing naked in front of the full length mirror in your bathroom, your eyes musing the curves of your body. it was the first time since you got this body when you actually took your time to explore it– the fairly long arms and narrow shoulders, the hollow space where the nape of your neck met your collarbones, the soft mounds of fat on your chest, your waist melting into plushy hips and thighs and calves, narrowing at your ankles and continued by two small feet. it was... certainly a big change compared to your previous form, but it'll have to do as long as you lived in this world. you took a deep breath before tentatively slipping a hand between your legs, waiting to feel something– as your fingers ghosted over your folds an odd sensation took over you. something sudden, fuzzy, that shook your senses awake.

your fingers moved with more confidence now, almost instinctively brushing against that little bundle of nerves that made your eyes flutter shut. "shit—" you sighed, hastly seating yourself on the floor in front of the mirror and spreading your legs, taking in the sight of your slick folds for a brief moment before rubbing little circles on your clit. it was pure bliss, warmth spreading through your limbs with each slow flick of your fingers. yea, this must've been the feeling Yoshida referred to... soon enough the knot in your lower belly tightened, hips stuttering, eyes closing shut as you reached your high and bit down on your lips. never before had you experienced such sheer pleasure and you'd be damned if you were going to waste the newly discovered potential this new body had.

from that day on, Yoshida regretted messing with you like this. you irked him enough before, but after he taught you what your body could feel your incessant whining only got worse. you were so needy all the time, begging him to show you more, to make you feel even better. without intending to, Yoshida created a greater problem for himself. but at least now he had some leverage over you, a means of keeping you in check, to make sure you don't step out of line and get into stupid fights again. and that's how you started your little after hours activity.

"ngh– Hiro don't stop feels s' good" you babbled out in a weak voice, your face mushed up into his pillow. from his spot at the desk littered with notebooks and papers, Yoshida nodded absentmindedly. if he were to turn around he knew he'd be met with a pretty view– you on your knees with your back curved into a perfect arch, heaving chest flush against the mattress as two of his devil's tentacles held your hips up in the air. a third appendage slid in and out of your cunt, making you mewl and squirm. however, the assignment he was currently working on was a bit more important than that. but he could still hear the squelching sounds you made with each curl of the tentacle and smell the sweet scent of your arousal lingering in the room. "keep it down, will you. can't have everyone on the hall hearing you moan like a slut."

"'m not a ah fuck– 'm not a slut" you objected, earning a chuckle from the man. he turned halfway in his chair, just enough to catch a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, a devious smile playing on his lips "you sure look like one to me"

his comment aggravated you even more but before you could say anything a second appendage pushed past the tight ring of your pussy, stretching you open. "oh god it's t-too much—" but he wasn't paying any attention to you anymore, his focus shifting back to his homework.

you hated how disinterested he was, how easy it was for him to just do his work while he let the Octopus Devil handle your insatiable needs. at first it was enough, but then you wanted something more. you wanted him, and the fact that he was so unresponsive to all your attempts to get him to please you himself was unnerving.

you tried all the tricks you heard the other girls in your class did with their boyfriends; looking at him with pretty doe eyes, bending over in front of him to pick something up from the ground, giving him full view of your panties, damn– you were literally naked on his bed. anything to get him riled up but he still wouldn't give in. you'd lie if this wasn't the most humbling experience in your entire life– stooping so low as to let your cunt be stuffed by another devil's tentacles in hopes of having Yoshida just lay a finger on you. a soft moan rolled past your lips as one of the appendages slithered up to your clit, making your eyes roll back in your skull. "yoshida can you u-uh look at me" you mewled, letting out a frustrated huff when the man shrugged. "i'm busy, as you can see, and if you don't behave I'll command the Octopus devil to stop... well, whatever he's doing."

"but Hiro I want you t-to watch me" you pressed and he finally put his pencil down, turning his chair to face you "happy now?"

in fact you were more than happy– despite his obvious disinterest and annoyance, your walls fluttered around the tentacles just from having him look at you. "y-yea happy. so, so happy" you squirmed, propping yourself up on your forearms to give him a better view of your tits. Yoshida only sighed, rolling his eyes "i know what you're trying to do and it won't work. i'm not fucking you."

"pretty please" you begged, wiggling your hips in a desperate attempt to tempt him. still, to no avail. Yoshida watched you with an amused smile etched onto his face. seeing you this desperate was quite entertaining, he couldn't lie, and you sure made a pretty sight for sore eyes, but he wouldn't dream of actually touching you like you wanted him to. instead, he got up from his chair and languidly moved by your side, crouching down next to the pile of your messily discarded clothes. "no, I won't do it" but why not. "because needy girls like you aren't my type"

you scoffed at his remark and he quickly gripped your jaw, tilting your head up so he could get a better look at your fucked out expression– you were a mess, fighting back tears of pleasure as the tentacles buried themselves deeper inside your soaked cunt, hitting all the right spots; you bit down on your lip. he wiped a string of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, tracing his fingers over your bottom lip. "but i guess it's not your fault you're like this. after all, i'm the one who taught you how to please yourself" you let out a shallow moan after hearing his words, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

"poor you... i bet it sucks, being a hotshot down in hell for so many years just to end up a slut on earth." he continued and you felt a familiar warmth pooling in your core. Yoshida noticed you were getting off to this by the way you nipped at your bottom lip and the flare in your eyes, his grin melting into a soft, compassionate smile "consider this your punishment for putting me through so much shit at school these months. although I've got to give it to you, since we started this routine of ours you've been more behaved."

you nodded eagerly, shifting forward to lean closer to him "yea, I've been good. always so good".

"not always, just when it suits you" he chuckled, giving the crown of your head a light pat "but you're getting there. keep it up and i might give you what you want one day as a little reward. until then though, you'll have to do with those." Yoshida gestured at the tentacles behind you and you nodded frantically. you only head half of what he was saying, too blissed out to pay attention to his words. you were getting close to your high, slick already dripping from your hole onto the sheets.

"you're so messy... i always have to change the sheets after you leave" he sighed "but you might as well go ahead and cum for me since you need it so badly"

that did it for you. before you knew it, your body spasmed and you gushed around the appendages– your fluids leaking onto the bed, soaking the mattress. "'m sorry so sorry Hiro" you babbled out, riding out your high as you pushed your hips back, making the tentacles fully fill you up. "don't worry about it. just enjoy" he said softly, his fingers gently combing through your hair.

when you eventually came down from your nth high of the day your body slumped against the mattress, your chest heaving with each shallow breath you took. Yoshida looked down at you with an amused glint in his eyes. he could tell you've had your fair share for the day so he retracted the tentacles around your body, making them disappear into thin air. you made no move to get out of his bed, instead curling up into a ball and hugging his duvet close to your chest, your breath slowly settling. "hey, hey don't get too comfortable. you're not sleeping here." he insisted but you wouldn't budge.

it was already pretty late, curfew was about to sound and it'd be pretty hard to explain a naked girl on his bed if someone came to check up on him, but Yoshida somehow couldn't bring himself to shun you. moments like these, when you laid so peacefully in bed were among the only times you were actually tolerable so despite his better judgement he pried the blanket from your arms and wrapped it around body before returning to the desk to finish his assignment.

still, it wasn't too long until he heard the duvet rustling and he turned to see what you were doing. you were once again laying on your stomach with your bare feet bashfully kicking in the air, eyeing him with a lustful gaze. when you noticed him watching you, you melted your chest into the mattress and hid your teasing grin behind your dainty hand, lifting your hips then slowly dropping them to the other side, not once breaking the eye contact "why not just give me that reward you mentioned now, hm, Hiro? for safe measure." god, you truly were hopeless...

#‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚#naw down bad for him too #also ty for almost 2k♡ love you guys #csm #csm x reader #chainsaw man yoshida #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #csm yoshida #yoshida x reader

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sublimecatgalaxy · 11 months

Note

Omg I never get to do your theme nights!!

What about 20. 'Why do you feel the need to specify we’re 'just friends?’ with Loki?

Maybe reader is being teased by the team about her crush but she is terrified of ruining her tentative new friendship with him. Later he comes up to her and asks💕

Welcome bestie! Happy you get to participate this time! You were actually my only request lol. I love this btw, let this be my first request in months of not writing anything :)

Ever since Natasha found out about my feelings for Loki and told Thor about it, I've been avoiding the lying God like the plague. Her so called moral quandary (as she called it) was debating whether or not to tell Thor to 'help' me move a step in the right direction, knowing Thor can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him, or just keeping it to herself and watching me 'pathetically' (her words) watch him from the side lines.

I knew that moments after she told Thor last night that Loki would soon find out, minutes or hours later, he would eventually learn of my feelings for him after preaching to everyone for months that we're just friends and that's alright by me.

He's a flirty one, with a silver tongue that spews anything that his audience wants to hear so why should I believe that his flirting is meant towards me any differently than it is towards any other woman on the Avengers campus? I have no reason to believe that he would feel any differently towards me than he does Natasha.

But still I wait, sitting on my bed with a book that Loki leant me in my hands, my eyes reading the words but my brain doing nothing with them. All I can do is listen closely to each of the footsteps passing my door, hoping that it isn't Loki approaching to confront me.

Eventually, the familiar thud of his boots sounds from outside my door and they pause for a moment outside before a knock thuds throughout my room.

"Yeah?" I call out and the door opens moments later to reveal Loki, softer than ever, curious eyes meeting mine as he steps into my room. "What can I do for you, God of Mischief?"

"I have a question." He says without missing a beat, ringing his hands in front of him as he sways nervously on his feet, biting at his lip.

"Alright, ask." I shrug, feeling my heart beating out of my chest, rapidly pounding as he looks at me with wide eyes, his regular smirk slipping across his lips as he takes a step closer to the edge of my bed where I sit.

"Do you feel for me?" I pause, head tilting dumbly at him.

"Feel for you?"

"You like me, yes?" He sits down beside me, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair and I clear my throat, putting on a confident front as I look for the right words.

"We're friends."

"Why do you feel the need to specify we’re 'just friends?" He asks with a nervous smirk and my eyebrows tick up in question. "Uh," he trails off, "if one were to hear through the grapevine that you felt for me, what should one do with that information?"

"I think one should act on it depending entirely on how they feel." My hands shake in my lap as I scoot a little closer to him, testing the waters as he lets me approach him.

"Alright." He smiles softly. "I feel for you."

"You do?" I ask, spine straightening and a huge smile breaking out across my face as he smiles sincerely, hand reaching out to rest against the bed beside me and I fight the urge to look down at his fingers that are inches away from me.

"I have for a while."

"I never thought I'd see you blush." I reach up to pat his cheek and he rolls his eyes, fingers wrapping around my wrist to pull it away from his face.

"I am not blushing." He chuckles, shoving me playfully away from him with a deep crimson coating his cheeks and neck. "God's don't blush."

"God's don't blu- yeah, okay, tough guy."

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel #marvel fic

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brainemptynothoughts · 8 months

Text

Strawberry Shenanigans

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple pocky game between you and Gojo. You were both bored and Gojo was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. It was a simple game meant to cure boredom but how did you end up straddling Gojo's lap, his arms around your waist as he stares at you with those beautiful blue eyes, a seductive look on his face!?!

Warnings: none, just intensive making out

word count: 4204

It was a hot summer day. Not unusual for Tokyo summer but today just felt hotter than usual. No classes today as it was the weekend. It was awfully boring. You had no plans today. Shoko was out exploring Tokyo cafes with her non jujutsu sorcerer friends while Geto went to the countryside to unwind and try the local speciality bitter green tea. Normally you would hang out with both of them but you didn’t want to disturb Shoko times with her friends and Suguru looked like he needed some alone time. (He is probably still mad after that prank you and Gojo pulled on him a couple days earlier).

Your cute underclassmen, Nanami and Haibara were hanging out at a mall and you didn’t feel like interrupting their “bro time together” as Haibara called it. Your seniors, Mei Mei, were nowhere to be seen and Utahime was spending time with her family. Even your teacher Yaga wasn’t even on campus off, he was on official business, leaving you alone on this big campus. Gojo was where ever the fuck he was (he had a nasty habit of teleporting without telling anyone where he was going).

Wiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt, you decided to go to a vending machine. Your throat was feeling dry and you needed a nice cool drink to cool off from this heat. As you walk through the empty hallways, you wish the AC was actually blasting cold air. But no it was the most room temperature AC ever. You actually made a complaint to Yaga about this before but he shook his head and told you sadly there wasn’t anything he could do about it. What a pity.

Your eyes light up as your spy the colorful vendings machines lined up against the walls. You walked a little bit faster, humming a light tune. Praise whoever invented vending machines, it truly is a life saving experience. You slowly walked past each machine, seeing if anyone would catch your eye. There were some boring ads pasted on but you ignored that. Tons of drinks options to choose from. Cola coke, sprite, mountain dew, ginger ale and some more. If there was one good thing you can say about this campus it was that the vending machine options were decent.

Your eyes stumbled on neatly arranged rows of ramune. A pretty section of orange, green, red, blue, and white bottles. Hmm. What to choose? Maybe melon? That flavor was alright but it tasted better as an ice cream flavor in your opinion. Then it was like a lightbulb flashed inside your mind. Throat feeling parched you knew exactly what carbonated soda flavor you wanted. You pressed a button, inserting 100 yen into the coin slot. The machine gently pushed a red drink out a shelf, dropping it down. You bend down to grab it. Voila! In your hands was a strawberry ramune! Its light pink liquid makes you happy upon seeing it. You lightly shake it just cause you wanted to see the marble inside move. You praise yourself for this excellent purchase choice.

Now here comes the fun part. Ripping off the plastic, you pushed the plastic cap down onto the marble watching it make a little plonk sound as it fell, the soda lightly fizzed up. You take a swing of the drink, making a little ah sound. It was sweet, a strong artificial taste of strawberry. Cool and refreshing, perfect for this hot summer day. You greedily gulped it down. You stopped drinking for a second, to remind yourself to not chug it all at once. Don’t want to get too many burps.

All of a sudden, you feel something cold and wet against your neck. You let out a whelp and whirled around to see Gojo with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yoohoo!” He said while waving casually with one hand like he didn’t just jumpscare you. You noticed on the other hand, he was holding that expensive plastic water bottle brand he liked. Typical rich boy. That must have been the wet item he must have pressed on your neck. Gojo loves playing pranks on you.

“Oh it's just you,” you deadpanned at him.

“Ehhh why do you say it like that?! Aren’t you happy to see your BFF?!” Gojo pouted at you.

“Meh. You made me nearly drop my ramune,” you said, frowning at him. If it wasn’t for your years of training your reflex as a jujutsu sorcerer, you would have definitely maybe dropped your precious strawberry drink onto the floor and wept in sadness. Would have been a waste of your precious 100 yen.

“Soo whatcha doing back here? I thought you teleported somewhere to escape this horrid heat.”

“Wellll,” Gojo drawls out, “I was doing some sightseeing, got bored, decided to come back to see my favorite person. Aren’t I such a caring person?” You shoot him an unimpressed look. “Oi oi, you didn’t have to make that face,” he says.

“I would have been fine on my own,” you replied, taking another sip of your ramune.

Gojo slung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. “Aww you love me though.”

“Do I?”

“It would be impossible to not love this handsome hunk of a man,” he winked at you.

You sighed, regretting not going with Suguru cause now you have to deal with Gojo. He is annoying, rude, and childish. But he does have sweet moments sometimes. You made a show out of checking out Gojo's body, “Hmm I think Suguru is more handsome.”

He lets out a dramatic gasp, “How could you prefer that Buddha lookalike looks over me?!” His hand over his chest, pretending like he was truly hurted by that comment.

“Well he is hotter than you. Boyfriend material if you asked me,” you took this moment to remove Gojo arm off your shoulder.

He pouts, “I can be boyfriend material too!”

You let out a snort, “Yea right. Whoever ends up dating you is gonna feel like they are babysitting an overgrown toddler.”

Gojo whines loudly, “That comment was unnecessary! Name one good reason why Suguru is more boyfriend material than me.”

You pretend to look deep in thought, your hand resting under your chin in a thinking pose, “He buys me snacks sometimes.”

“I can buy you snacks too!” Gojo walks away from you and presses a button on a vending machine. He quickly grabs the item he got and walks back to you. He takes your hand and places a strawberry pocky box. “Here you like pocky right? I think I remember you saying strawberry was your favorite flavor.” You blinked a couple times at the pocky to make sure your eyes were actually seeing this. Gojo being kind is strange. He wouldn’t normally do something like this.

“Uh thanks?” You said hesitantly. You had a feeling something was up. You placed your ramune on a nearby chair. Gojo copying your actions with his water bottle. As you moved to open the pocky Gojo hand quickly snatched it away from you. “Eh?” You looked at him puzzled. He smiled, you recognized that smile. It was the classic Gojo “I do something for you and you need to repay me” type of smile. You narrowed your eyes at him, “I knew you wouldn’t do something nice for no reason.”

“I’m sad that you think of me like that. I can be nice if I want to!” Gojo said.

You catch a glimpse of Gojo eyes peeking out behind his black shades. It sparkled with mischief. “I will give you this pocky but on a condition.”

“Nah I'd rather get my own pocky.” As you moved to a vending machine your back facing him. Gojo spins you around to face him. You took a step backwards, your back lightly hitting the glass screen of the vending machine. Gojo moves an arm to the side of your head. His legs are trapping yours. The man really just did a kabedon on you. His soft white fluffy hair brushing against your forehead. You stared at his black shades, feeling his warm breath.

“Ok what do you want,” you asked Gojo boredly.

“Play the pocky game with me,” he smirked at you.

Whatever response you had instantly disappears after hearing that, your brain process coming to a screeching halt. That's suspicious. That’s weird. “Aren’t this game meant to be played by couples? We’re not a couple, dude.”

He tilted his head, “Yea we not. But it doesn’t have to be played by just couples. You know, friends can play it too.”

“Why don’t you play it with Suguru then?”

He made a disgusted face, “Don’t wanna. Wanna do it with you. You're special.”

You raise your eyebrows. The relationship between you and Gojo was strange. Gojo loves to cling onto you, annoying you every moment he gets while you tell him to fuck off. He is like a stray cat that randomly follows you. There was this tension between the two of you. Nanami once told you and Gojo to get a room. You remember venting to Shoko before at how annoying Gojo was. She chuckled and said it sounds like you love him. You honestly didn’t know what to describe the relationship you and Gojo had.

Maybe friends? Close friends? You and Gojo exchange jackets and sweaters all the time. Gojo “accidentally” stealing your Cinnamoroll jacket multiple times. Close friends cuddle with each other too, yea? Randomly at night, Gojo barges into your room and demands you for cuddles. He would flop onto you while you scream for him to get off cause he was heavy. He would pull you into his chest, him being the big spoon and you the little spoon. It was just a platonic thing. Right? Like Gojo likes to feed you sometimes but it's just what really close friends do.

A finger pokes your forehead gently, interrupting your thoughts. “What are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours?” Gojo murmurs. You try not to think how attractive his voice is.

“Just thinking I could kick you into the balls right now and end your bloodline,” you replied, trying not to look at Gojo's stupidly handsome face. You do not have feelings for your best friend, you don’t.

Gojo gently tips your chin to make you face him, “Like you could even get past my infinity.”

You glare at him, “Maybe if I kick you hard enough, I could.”

“I would dare you to try it but I would rather not hear you whine about your foot being in pain,” Gojo leans in even closer to you, his lips so close to yours. “You and I are both bored. Why not cure our boredom with a fun little pocky game?”

You sighed, “If I don’t say yes right now, you're definitely gonna pester me later, aren’t you?”

“Yup!” Gojo said way to cherrily.

“Fine. I’m gonna win though,” you gave in.

“Greaaaaat! Rules are whoever breaks or drops the stick loses! If you look away from me, you lose too,” he says gleefully. He rips the pocky packaging and places a pocky in his mouth. “Ready?” He mumbled. You roll your eyes at him and bite into the other end of the stick. You won’t gonna let Gojo win. So you decided to make a daring move. Staring deep at Gojo shades, you quickly chomp on the pocky, getting really close to his lips. His head jerked back in surprise. Your nose brushed against his nose as you took a final bite of the pocky, barely missing his lips. You moved your face away from Gojo mentally celebrating your quick victory. You battled your eyelashes at him, licking your lips, “Too easy.”

Gojo was still for a moment, “.....Not bad. I admit you got me there.”

You lightly tapped his chest, “Since I won, give me the entire box now.”

“No,” Gojo replied back way too fast.

“What do you mean no? I followed your rules and won fair and square.”

“Weelllll,” Gojo shrugged. “That was only the first round.”

“Ehhhh,” you said in disbelief. You really just wanted the yummy deliciousness that is strawberry pocky. It would go so well with the strawberry ramune.

“Let's move to the chairs, my neck hurts looking down at you. Urgh why do you have to be short,” Gojo rubs his neck.

You frowned hard, “I’m not short, you're just a giant.”

“You're so cute and tiny, I could carry you around all day,” he smiles cheekily as he ruffles your hair. You swatted his hand away feeling a tinge of annoyance. Gojo finally unkabedon you and flops onto a chair. He widely manspreads and gestures to you to come over. You sighed knowing there was no shortcut out of the pocky game, so it best to just get it over with. There were only two chairs, one was occupied with yours and Gojo drinks while Gojo was sitting on the other chair.

As you move to go grab the drinks so you can put them on the floor, Gojo hand wraps around your wrist. You glanced at him. He smiles mischievously.

“I have a better spot for you to sit on,” he gestures to his lap, “Sit here.”

Your brain cuts immediately short circuited. There were no thoughts brain empty. You stare flabbergasted, eyes wide in shock, mouth wide opened. He did not just say what you think he said. It's a good thing you're not drinking your ramune right now or else you would have spat it out from shock.

Gojo pets his leg, “Come sit on my lap.” He notices your shocked expression. “Whaaaat? I promise it's comfy.” You opened your mouth to say something but no words came out. With a very devious look on his face, his hands wrapped around your waist and damn were his hands big, his hands perfectly enveloping your waist. Grabbing onto your waist, he pulls you onto his lap. He gently squeezes your legs and positions them on the sides of his torso. He sneakily wraps his arms around your waist to hug you. Gojo pushes his face into your chest as he stares up at you with the cheekiest grin.

You were beyond speechless, your brain trying to process that you are straddling Gojo Satoru lap. How did your quiet afternoon end up like this?! Oh yea it Gojo after all. He always did somehow make a peaceful moment turn into chaos.

“Why so speechless dear?” Gojo teases. You were pretty sure he was battering those stupid long pretty eyelashes under his shades.

“Just wasn’t expecting you to be so bold babe,” you put the emphasis on babe. Occasionally you and Gojo would call each other pet names. Just what normal friends do.

“You look so pretty sitting on my lap. We should do this more often.”

Was Gojo always this flirty you wonder. “Let's just get this stupid game over with.”

“Hai hai. Expect to lose this time.” Gojo removes his shades and throws them somewhere. He swipes back his hair and looks directly into your eyes. You couldn’t help but admire those gorgeous blue eyes of his. You could get lost in them but you would never admit that to Gojo out loud. Gojo shuffles you even closer to him, your chests touching each other. He places a pocky in his mouth. “Ready darling?”

“Mhm.” Both of you start biting the ends of the pocky sticks. You decided to use the speedy tactic you used last round. Then something unexpected happened. Gojo winks at you and squeezes your hips. You choke and Gojo takes this to his advantage. He speedily bites down the pocky, his lips getting dangerously close to yours.

“I won!” He cheered. You try to process what just happened. “Can you even do that?!” You blurted out trying not to blush.

Gojo shrugged his shoulders, “Why not?”

“You-!”

He interrupts you, “Since I won, call me by my name.”

“Gojo?” You asked confused.

“You know what I mean stupid. Satoru.” Oh. That was a simple request. You normally called him Gojo but sometimes you did call him Satoru.

“K Satoru. There, did that make you happy?”

“Yea,” he smiled at you. Woah there calm down heart. Satoru had no right looking that gorgeous. The sun was going down casting a beautiful golden hue over Satoru's messy white hair. His white tee accenting his broad shoulders. Those blue sparkly eyes that seem to resemble diamonds as they twinkled at you. His lips upcurved in a rare genuine smile showing off his cute dimples. Your heart only pounding because you admire Satoru aesthetics, not because of handsome looks.

“Let's do one more round yea?” He asked you. “Final round out of three. Loser has to listen to the winner's request.” Finally that strawberry pocky box will be in your hands. You nodded. “Let's get this over with.” Satoru sensually places a pocky in his mouth. He cockily grins at you. Your eyes narrowed at him. This was his way of taunting you. The two of you started biting down onto the pocky ends. This round the biting was much slower. A part of you didn’t want this game to end too soon. It felt as time slowed down. It was just you and Satoru at the moment. Eyes locked onto Satoru, barely blinking. You can feel every part of him. His muscular thighs, the 6 pack abs hidden under his tee, his big hands gently pressing onto your hips. You were too busy concentrating on him, you barely noticed Satoru took the final bite, making him the pocky game winner. He pulls away from you, licking his lips. “Oohh looks like you lost.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Congrats. What do you want?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What.”

For the third time, Satoru made your brain go haywire.

“Wh- what did you just say?” You asked to make sure you're not hearing things.

“Can I please kiss you?”

You stared at him. He looked serious. Too serious. You laughed nervously, “Oh this must be a prank right haha? Where the camera?”

“Mhm not a prank. I want to kiss you,” Satoru bluntly said. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips pressed tightly. He was actually serious, the heck.

“Why? Aren’t we..just friends?”

“Are you stupid?”

“Wha?” Way to ruin the mood, Satoru.

“Do friends flirt with each other all the time huh?”

“YOU WERE FLIRTING WITH ME? SINCE WHEN?!”

Satoru sighs, “I thought I made it fairly obvious.”

“I uh thought that was typical Gojo behavior.”

He frowned, “Do I have to spell it out for you? I gave you expensive gifts, took you out all the time, call you pet names, fuck I was even being clingy, lovely dopey and shit and your telling me you thought that was just me being friendly?”

“Yea?”

He groans, “Why did I fall for a dumbass like you again?”

“HEY,” you snapped, “But since when did you start having feelings for me?”

“Maybe when I saw your cute ass in those tight jeans you like to wear?”

“WHAT THE FUCK,” you screeched, madly flustered with an intense blush on your face.

“Kidding! Don’t really remember how it started. Just somewhere along the way, I knew I liked you.”

“What do you even like about me?” You weren’t ready at all that your long time friend who you had a crush on like you back and he even confessed first.

“Hmm,” Satoru tilted his head like an adorable puppy. “I can name off a lot of things. I like how you sing in the shower, you're always looking out for others, you're sweet, too pretty for your own good, how you love to collect cute things. I can name a lot more buuut-” he grins at you. “If I say anything more, I think your face gonna explode off.”

You were bright as a tomato. You bashfully hide your blushing face behind your hands. Satoru took your hands away from your face, “Come on now, don’t be shy. Let me see the person I fell in love with.” Fuck. Fuck. Your heart was so not prepared for this. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear it pounding hard. Satoru leans into you, whispering into your ear, “I know you love me too.” He grins.

You groaned, “Was it that obvious?”

“Yup!” He says popping the p.

“Ugh. Now I feel like a damn fool.” You wish the Earth could just swallow you whole right now.

“It was cute really seeing you pretend like you didn’t love me,” he teases. “Soo how bout that kiss hmm?” Satoru's voice drops to a deep tone. You breathe in and out slowly, thinking of all the times you wanted to kiss Satoru. You mustered up the courage and grabbed Satoru's collar pulling him to you. You press a kiss against his soft lips. All of those times you spent daydreaming kissing those beautiful lips of yours finally came true. Satoru eyes widen in shock seeing you take the first move, mouth open in an O shape. It was a short kiss, merely a brief second.

“Heh,” Satoru chuckles, “You call that a kiss? Let me teach you how to actually kiss.” A hand softly cups the back of your head as he moves to press his lips against yours. You whimper and he takes this to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth. His tongue explores the caverns of your mouth. His tongue intertwines with yours. His breath was hot, his forehead against yours. His other hand gripping your waist to keep you steady on his lap. Your bodies pressed together, flush and hot. You let out a moan as Satoru lightly bites your lip. After a couple minutes that felt like forever, Satoru pulls away from you. Your chest heaving up and down as you pant for air.

Satoru lazily lips his lips as he looks at you with his hooded eyes filled with desire. His hand swipes away the drool from your lips. You didn’t even realize you were drooling. “Mhm you taste like strawberry,” he says in a delighted tone.

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

Satoru laughs, “There's that cheeky mouth of yours I love! I kiss you real good huh. So good, you're drooling.”

“Shut up!” You wiped your mouth in embarrassment. Satoru was actually a pretty decent kisser, better than you thought. His hand traces your neck, “Let me mark you here. Let the world know your mine.”

Your breath hitched. Satoru's eyes swirled with lust as he locked a heavy gaze on you. You pressed your forehead against his. “Always been yours.” You murmur in a low voice. Taking that as permission, Satoru moves your shirt to the end of your collarbones. You feel his hot breath as your skin tingles with anticipation. Satoru starts pressing light gentle kisses. He leaves a trail of kisses. Your legs wrapped around his waist tightly using the back of the chair to press yourself even closer into him. He finds the nape of your neck and starts circling his tongue on a certain spot. He parts his lips slightly and starts to suck. You let out a small whimper, your hand grasping his hair for support. Satoru starts to suck harder, using some teeth. He bites your neck but no to hard. He kisses your neck in brief intervals, sucking, licking, and repeat.

Satoru pulls his lips away and admires his handiwork. A small red bruise like a mark slowly starts to form. Satoru being the insatiable man he is moves to the other side of your neck and gives you being the entire man. The entire time you were feeling incredibly aroused letting out soft moans. After a couple of minutes, your neck was decorated by blue, red, and purple dots. “Hm pretty good if I do say so myself,” Satoru smirks in a cocky tone.

“How am I going to explain this to the others……”

“You don’t!”

Satoru brushes his nose with yours, giving you a couple more playful kisses on your lips. He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you so much you know?” He confessed.

“I can’t believe you confess first damn it.”

“Well one of us needed to do it eventually and it was me.” His thumb teases your lip. “ Open up.” You confused did what he said, slightly opening your mouth. He puts a pocky into your mouth. “Oh so you finally remember to give me my pocky!”

Satoru snickers, “No thank you?”

“Nah. You don’t deserve it.”

“Fair. By the way, there was a bet on us who was gonna confess first.”

“Really? Let me guess Shoko started it.”

“Bingo! Once they come back, I’m going to cash in on my winnings!”

“Wait, you betted too??? Give me some, I'm broke, you don’t need more money, rich boy.”

“Sure sure. But I can do you one better. Next week you're free right? Let's go on a date. I treat ya.”

You fistpump the air in excitement, “Yes!”

Part 2 here!

#gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff

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