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#my dad didn’t strut
marauderstars · 2 years
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“My dad didn’t strut” bestie your dad would have paid the school band to play a disco beat every time he entered a room if he could.
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the-moon-says-hi · 1 year
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james “you gotta strut like you mean it” potter
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atinystaypixie · 2 months
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Lesson of Rejection
Summary: You are a princess, and as a princess, you don't take rejection well. When your top guard does reject you, its only natural you teach him a lesson.
WC: 2.5k+
CW: 18+, MDNI!!, gang bang, spit roasting, unimplied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, especially in these situations), cumming in pants, oral (m&f receiving), bondage, public (ish) setting
Requested by: @princeasimdiya12 thank you for waiting luv!
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Nanami is a well respected man. Every subordinate looks up to him, all fellow guards admire his strength, and no one is trusted like him. Your father adores him and is the only man he allows to be close to you.
He is always close to you, watching you, and if you look close enough, admiring you. In the comfort of your room of the large palace, you wear minimal clothing and his eyes will occasionally scan the enticing skin of your body. You are a smart girl, and can clearly sense when a man is interested in you. Especially when the well reserved man is caught with the tips of his ears turning red from helping you undress.
You had stormed to your room in a fit of anger after the meeting with your father and your supposed future husband. The man he introduced to you made your skin crawl. A creepy smile, weird stitches across his forehead, and such a disgusting way of talking down on others. But for some reason, your dad couldn’t stop praising him.
“I mean how could he?! He didn’t even ask if that’s what I wanted! Marry THAT man? That disgusting man? How dare he?!” You exclaim stomping around your room and throwing your jewelry about. He told you to come your best dressed and you took your precious time getting all pretty just to be met with this bullshit.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me get this off!” You directed your anger towards Nanami. He understood you were upset, so he didn’t take offense to you raising your voice at him. Usually the maids would help you with this task, but in your fit of rage you told no one to enter your room and that meant only Nanami would be near you. He always is there with an open ear when you go on tangents.
“He’s just marrying me off like some kind of property! Am I not human?” His callous fingers work the laced up ribbons undone. Your dress slipping off your body leaving your backside completely exposed to him. The panties and bra leaving little skin covered. His mind wanted to be respectful and look away, but his eyes stared longer than what could be considered an accident.
“I will not-,” you stop ranting as you turn around. He’s closer than expected and his eyes are hooded. It’s not for long and he quickly changes back to his professional poker face, but it was long enough for you to catch. He turns his head giving you the view of his ears. You suppress a smile and go back to blowing up about your father. Tonight’s events aren’t even a worry anymore, it’s being exposed and forcing Nanami to stay in close proximity for as long as possible.
For at least ten more minutes, Nanami was forced to endure your nearly bare figure strutting around. Your words go in one ear and out the other. His eyes were doing the best to not land on you, but you were making it difficult by making sure to stay in his line of sight. You finally stop dramatically in front of him. The jiggle of your breasts catch his lowered eyes.
“Nanamins, I refuse to be given to that man. He’s not even my type.” Your voice is lowered and dripping with seduction. A well manicured finger pressing against his firm chest through his clothes. It was fine until you started dragging your finger lower at the end of your sentence.
Any other man would have folded right at that moment, any other man would have gone in for a kiss, but Nanami was not any other man. His hand wraps around your wrist halting your actions.
“Miss. I am afraid you are extremely frustrated. It is best if you get some rest. Have a good night.” He gently releases his grip and turns on his hills. This did not sit easy with you. Yes, you were teasing the man and didn’t truly expect for things to go far, but the fact he completely just rejected and left you? That was not going to fly over well.
Nanami didn’t release the effect his actions had. He didn’t realize the fire pit that being professional and sticking to his duties had thrown him in.
It wasn’t until he found himself in the current predicament that he released just how bad you didn’t like being told no.
He entered the training room with powerful strides as usual. You had ordered a special session and without question he showed up along with the other higher ranked guards. He was informed on the information while having tea with you. You were close to him and would often ask him to drink with you. It wasn’t as if he could truly refuse, he was your personal guard and would have to be in close proximity while following every order anyways.
“Today, I would like to do something different.” Your head held high and you spoke to your guards. Nanami internally raised an eyebrow, his curiosity never playing across his face. He knew something was completely awry when you ordered each of them that this session would be kept from your father. “With this session, I want to practice, how should I say,” you do a humming sound of thought, “rejecting.” A smile etches onto your face. The word spikes Nanami’s attention. He was top guard for a reason and his wit was a part of that reason. Unease wasn’t an emotion he felt often, but after the events of the other night, he couldn’t help but feel as if that night and this session tied together.
“Yuki,” you call to the female guard who acts like more of an assistant than anything to you. “Pass me what I asked you to bring.” There is a silk covering on what appears to be a cart. “Gojo,” this time your attention is directed towards the tall, white-haired guard, “take off your pants.” If his eyes weren’t covered, they would be seen popping wide before relaxing again.
Gojo couldn’t say he quite understood the command, but either way he liked where this was going. It was no secret that most, if not all, the guards had an attraction to you. So if you commanded the man to take his pants off, he would gladly do it for you. He was almost too eager, making you swallow a scoff. Your deviant eyes flicked to Nanami and he was still standing straight and at attention without a noticeable shift in demeanor. He wouldn’t be like that long.
A series of orders were thrown out. The guards moved quickly and swiftly as each had a separate one directed towards them. In all their time of training, in all their time of serving, none of them expected to ever be in this situation.
Gojo and Sukuna stuff you full as Nanami is tied with his hands behind his back. His cock straining against his pants as he watched your pussy wrap around Gojo’s dick and your pretty lips soak in your own spit as Sukuna fucks into your throat. You knew that Nanami was suffering, and suffering badly at that. The tea you had him drink this morning had more than sugar added to it.
“Such a slut, Princess.” Gojo spoke, still pistoning his hips forward aiming to reach the deepest pits of your insides. The squelching of your pussy sounds every time his hips connect to your ass, skin to skin filling the room. At this point your eyes were glazed over and sweat was coating your skin. Any moan you had was immediately caught by Sukuna’s dick, turning into gurgles.
Your ears perk at the deep whine that just graced them. Despite having two cocks filling you, your senses immediately clear and your eyes snap to the blonde haired man. His eyebrows tightly scrunched, chest rising and falling heavily, and a red tint to his cheeks. The moans leaving you turn into a choked laugh.
Sukuna groans when he feels your hand push at his hips, removing him from your mouth. “Nanami, was there something you wanted to say?” Your neat eyebrow raises as your hand wraps around the long dick in front of you, your tongue swirling around the tip as you hold eye contact with the restrained man.
“-ease” his words are breathy and low. His body is in so much need of even the simplest touch that he can barely speak.
“Speak up.”
“Please…please, Miss.” The hips that were once rocking into yours stops, Sukuna’s focus is no longer on your plump lips, and Yuki’s face is showing clear shock. They had never heard Nanami sound so needy, so submissive. Their head guard speaking without the normal command in his voice threw all of them off and they didn’t know what to do. “Please, I need relief,” he begged.
“Hmm…,” a heavy pause weighs in the room, “no. We’re working on rejection, remember? I know you are all too familiar with it.” A smirk plays on your lips as you signal Gojo and Sukuna to get back to work. Their egos boosting from getting to fuck into you while the one man who has infinite access to you suffers.
Your walls squeeze around Gojo making his head fall back and eyes clamp shut, “fuck! Princess, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to hold it.”
You release Sukuna with a pop, “go on. I’m not stopping you,” is all you say before going back to sucking. That’s all he needs to feel his balls tightening and dick twitching. He hurriedly pulls out of you and covers your pussy in his seed. The white substance landing on your puffy clit and pussy lips. He lets out deep moans and grunts as he strokes all of his cum onto your cunt.
Sukuna wasn’t far behind, your mouth was so warm and wet around him and it didn’t help that your hand was stroking the parts of him that you couldn’t fit. Your tongue running over his sensitive tip at just the right times had him in the same position Gojo was in moments ago. His eyes were clamping shut and his lips were parted releasing moans.
“Princess, I am close. Please.” He said in broken breaths. The hum you did around his dick letting him know that he could sent him over the edge. His abdomen clenched as he released his seed on your tongue.
Nanami couldn’t take seeing two men release their seed onto you. He was on the verge of cumming without even being touched. Although his skin was hot and his dick was angrily throbbing, he noticed that you hadn’t come. But he didn’t need to say it, because you were already getting up and walking over to him on shaky legs. You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you.
“Look at you,” you scoffed. “Clean me up.” He felt your fingers grip the locks of his hair and before he can say anything, your cum covered pussy meets his lips. If he was in his right state of mind he would have immediately resisted, but he wasn’t. Your clit hitting his nose and his tongue greeting your used hole had an animalistic moan rising out of his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he had to clear another man's seed to get the full taste of your pussy, his body was in so much need that even sniffing your used cunt was making him spiral more.
“Good fucking boy,” you bit your lip as your eyes stayed focused on him. The view was perfect. Your legs widen and his face directly between them as you humped on his face. He was licking at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue lapping up your slit and catching your clit before pushing back into your hole. Gojo and Sukuna might have just got done using you, but Nanami’s tongue was making your body weak. He was making sure to catch every drop of your juices and the pleasure you were feeling was obvious from the way you were moaning. Your moans making the two already spent men feel their dicks start twitching again.
You felt the coil in your stomach getting ready to pop. Your fingers gripping tighter at the blonde strands between them and your hips bucking with more aggression.
Without warning, you cum in Nanami’s mouth. The taste of your release making his dick immediately spurt cum into his pants. His body was shaking while whimpers and moans fell from his lips. His hand rested against your thigh as he caught his breath.
The laugh you let out as you moved his head from your thigh was condescending. You lower to in front of him and unzip his pants reaching your hand in. “You came in your pants,” you stroke his sensitive dick causing another whine to come from him before pulling your hand back out. “I mean look! You made such a mess and I didn’t even touch your dick!” Another laugh left you, off to the side small chuckles could be heard from Sukuna and Gojo.
Your laughs die down and you lean close to his ear and whisper, “the next time you reject me, I won’t be so nice.” You pull away and wrap your cum covered hand around his chin, “thank Nanami for today’s session. Clean up and continue with the day,” you look at Nanami again, “except you. Stay like this, cum soaked pants and everything for the rest of the day.” You gather a robe off of the cart you ordered Yuki to bring you earlier and exit the room.
In passing later, you see that the guards have all returned to their fixed attires and two especially have wide grins on their face. As Nanami returns to you, you see he has done as you asked. The proof being the clear stain at the front of his pants.
“Miss, I am sorry for rejecting you and I have reflected, but could you please allow me to change so I may look appropriate in appearance.”
Your answer comes quickly and without a bat of the eye, “no. Everyone feels the need to tell me what’s going to happen despite my wishes lately. I don’t like it, so in a start to correcting it, you’ll stay like this until the end of the day.” He didn’t protest or speak further after that, he knew it would only make it worse. In any other situation he would have tried to talk you down, but he had suffered enough embarrassment of the day. Before returning to you, Gojo, Sukuna, and Yuki had their fun mocking him. It wouldn’t be the end of it either because he still had a training session to lead later on in the day.
But Nanami was the head guard for a reason, he was the guard entrusted to be close to you for a reason. He couldn’t be deemed the top guard if he didn’t realize the tea he had with you countless times before tastes different. A small aftertaste and the heating of his blood gave away all he needed to know. The guards may have something to mock him about now, but they won’t be the ones inside of your tight pussy for many nights to come, nor will they be the reason your pending marriage will fail.
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Thoughts of a Slutty Virgin ~ 🧚🏾‍♀️
Whew it has been a while! This was requested so long ago and I really am thankful for the patience. I will continue to work on the requests that I have yet to put out. PIXIE'S BACK!
ENJOY! Reblog, like, and comment💜
Pixie's Masterlist
Taglist: @444ghosty @un-lawliet @tophamhat-kyo @nobianna @viisgrave
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Purple dividers at the top made by me. Pictures used are not mine. Support banner made by @/cafekitsune.
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The Farmer's Daughter 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Walter Marshall
Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You stand at the counter, waiting on the pharmacist to fill the script. Walter stands close, perusing the shelves beneath the pick-up window. You doubt he’s in the market for cough drops or nasal spray but there isn’t much to distract you.
You check the list as you slide your bag to the crook of your elbow. You chew your lip and think. While you’re here…
“Um, I’ll be right back, okay?” You say to him. He arches a brow curiously at you. You offer a soft smile, “just gotta grab something before I forget.”
He nods and paces back and forth, hands behind his back. You head down the center aisle and dip down the next. It’s close to the middle of the month and you’re running low. You search for the familiar package. Usually you get it at the grocer so you’re not familiar with the arrangement here.
You find your brand and stare up at it on the top shelf. Of course. You get on your toes and reach, grasping the shelf for balance as you teeter. Another hand snatches up the package you vie for and you turn in embarrassment as the tall blond man holds out the feminine pads.
“There you are, little one,” Thor proclaims.
You take the pads and lower your eyes to the floor, “thanks.”
“Not to worry,” he assures, “I used to fetch the very same for my sister. No need to be ashamed of your womanly needs.”
“Um, well, sure,” you giggle nervously, “I appreciate it.”
You wave the package then stop yourself and push it behind your back. You shrug and gnaw on your lip, “I… I’m just waiting for a prescription, so I should…”
“Heard about your dad,” he says, “sorry to hear it. You’ll give him my regards.”
“Yeah,” you eke out, “sure will, thanks again.”
You spin and trot away. How awkward was that. Thor’s always friendly but the last thing you need is him picking out your pads. Oh, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to add to the list.
As you look up, you find Walter waiting at the end of the aisle, watching you as you keep the package hidden behind you.
“Oh, hey,” you greet him, “got what I need.”
“Here,” he holds out the small paper bag with the pharmacy’s logo, “everything alright?”
“Sure,” you answer, trying to shake off the tingle in your cheeks.
“What did Odinson want?”
“Just asking about dad,” you shrug.
“Mm,” he grumbles.
You take the bag and move it to conceal the label on the pads. Walter’s eyes flick down at the movement but he doesn’t say anything. He raises his gaze to look over your head. You turn to watch Thor as he gives a half-wave with three fingers and struts away.
“Anyway, I’ll just pay for my stuff and meet you outside?” You face Walter again.
He’s quiet as he glares down the aisle. He’s like a statue. You’re not even sure he heard you.
“Walt?” You squeak.
He winces and looks down at you, “I didn’t know you were friends with him.”
“I’m… Everyone knows Thor,” you chime.
He shifts on his feet as his jaw ticks, “I’ll be outside.”
You sidle out of his way as he steps past you. You step back up to the counter as Bessie smiles at you. You hand over the package and dig in your purse. You pay without chattering as she offers the same condolences as everyone else you’ve run into. 
You ask for a bag and flip out, exhausted already. It’s supposed to be an escape but the stares and the soft tones just remind you of what you’re running away from. Walter stands by his truck as he waits for you. He stills himself as you approach.
“Everything okay?” He asks.
“Yep,” you reply meekly, “onto the grocery store.”
He bows his head in acquiescence. You could walk the block down to the store you suppose but you’re not thinking that far ahead. You just want to be gone.
He follows you around to the passenger’s side, again opening the door before you can. You toss the bag on the seat and reach for the interior of the door. Before you can haul yourself up, he has you around the waist, lifting you up onto the metal step. You let out a strained squeak and grasp onto the seat before sliding into it.
His hands graze off of you and he hovers, just for a moment, before he shuts the door. You look down as he lumbers around in your peripheral. You hug yourself, touching your sides where he gripped you. He touches you a lot.
You sit up as he climbs in the other side and shake off the thought. He’s just being helpful. After all he’s done, you owe him a million thanks.
He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. He drives silently down the road and you sink down into the seat as familiar faces pace by, strolling down the pavement. Why did you think this was a good idea?”
He rolls into the dirt lot behind the grocery store and you’re quick to jump out before he can reach you. Your purse drops onto the ground as you stagger. He shuts the door before you can as he grunts.
“Careful,” he warns as he grabs your arm and pulls you straight.
“I’m good,” you snatch up your purse and lift your ankle to roll out the kink in your achilles. 
You cross the lot as he trails behind you, a towering shadow at your heels. You enter the front doors and wave to Alison, the cashier on first shift. She greets you with a grin and flips the page of the magazine opened before her till.
Walter lurks behind you as you take out the list again. You don’t need too much. You go to the stack of basket and he snakes around you to claim one first.
“Got it,” he says.
“Thanks,” you murmur and smooth out the creases in the list.
“Honeydew,” he says, “right?”
You glance up at him then over at the rows of produce. You nod and turn away, heading for the mountain of melons. Again, he’s close behind you. Like a big, grumpy dog. The thought makes you laugh and you peek over at him. You could definitely see him growling like one.
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permanentswaps · 6 days
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Like Father Like Son Pt.2
Read the original from @exploratorytfs here.
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It's been three years since that bizarre twist of fate turned my life upside down, or should I say, right side up. Looking back now, I can't help but smirk at the irony of it all. I won't tell my dad (yeah, I definitely think of him as my dad now), but the truth is, the body swap wasn't entirely an accident.
I just wanted to give him a taste of my carefree lifestyle, show him that growing up and being mature isn’t all it's cracked up to be. So, I went online and found a way for us to swap.
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I never meant for it to be permanent. I mean, who would want to stay in someone else's body forever? But the moment I found myself in his shoes, staring at the world through his eyes, I knew I had hit the jackpot. His body, his life—it all felt like a perfect fit.
It had only been a day, but I didn’t want to ever leave. What was I gonna do now? I couldn't imagine going back to my old life, to the mundane routine and endless expectations. No, this was where I belonged. But how could I make it permanent without causing even more chaos?
Surprisingly, my dad seemed content in my old body, reveling in the responsibility of it all. He didn't seem eager to find a way to swap back, and I couldn't help but gloat inwardly. It was almost too easy—I had traded up in every possible way.
Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a surge of excitement coursed through me. The chiseled jawline, the toned, youthful physique, the effortless charm—it was like I had been upgraded to the deluxe model. And as much as I tried to suppress it, I couldn't help but revel in the undeniable satisfaction of it all.
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So when my dad brought up the idea of making the swap permanent, I didn't hesitate. "Hell yeah, Dad," I replied with a smirk, savoring the taste of victory.
We hashed out the details over dinner, but in my mind, it was already a done deal. And just like that, the deal was sealed. Sure, there are moments when I feel a twinge of guilt for keeping my dad's body, but then I remembered how much better I look in it, and the guilt just turned to horniness. After all, who wouldn’t want to be me.
Shortly thereafter, I signed a modeling contract – of course, who wouldn’t wanna see a body like this? Every photoshoot, every runway strut, only served to reinforce my belief that I had made the right choice.
My dad was so excited for me and gave me his sports car as a present for that and my birthday. He told me to be careful with it like the responsible guy he is. I promised him I would be, but I speed down the highway blasting music. After all, a hot young jock like me has to do that! … But I'll let him think he's having a good influence on me.
Through my modeling gig, I met my boyfriend James. He embodied everything I found irresistible: tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. What intrigued me even more was that he had no clue this body wasn't originally mine. That really turned me on.
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Even though I'm used to living this life by now and fully think of myself as Nathan, I still get a thrill every time he calls me by my name. Just last week, we were having a night of passionate sex. As he pressed me down onto the bed in missionary, he thrust back and forth in slow. deep strokes.
Rubbing his right thumb in circles around my left nipple, he leaned down to kiss me. I looked up at him in awe. Smirking back had me he said in a husky voice, “I love you Nathan.”
Before I knew it, I was shooting my load across his thick, muscular chest.
Mixed in with the pleasure, I had to laugh to myself. In a way, I got what I wanted. Nathan (or at least his body) definitely is living his youth now.
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Note
I’ve never requested before, so i hope im doing this right
i love your writing and your writing of jake sullys daughter! If your taking request can i suggest jake sully x daughter!reader who is dating a boy and their relationship. (daughter!reader is a strong warrior while the boy is more of a healer or smth) . How would Jake handle this, his baby girl is growing up ::(
Baby Girl
A/N: Just took a small break because my boyfriend broke up with me lol. Wanted to say LOVED THIS IDEA KEEP EM COMING INBOX IS OPEN
Pairings: Sully! Daughter Reader x Tarsem, Sully! Daughter x Sully! Family platonic!
Warnings: Slight angst, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Loak being dumb, Jake being overprotective. Not proofread lol.
Summary: In which your family discover that you are in a relationship and someone, in particular, doesn't like it.
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“Draw it back and keep your shoulders up, pointed towards the sky.” Your mother whispers gently while observing your stance. You stood with exact precision, as she and your father had raised you to be. You don’t hesitate to send the arrow flying from your grip and towards the animal already moving quickly knowing the accuracy of your own shot. Neytiri admires for a second, a soft smile growing on her face as you send the creature back to Eywa with a prayer. You look back at her with a gentle roll of your eyes and sitting up gently wiping the blood from your hands onto your stomach. 
“Mama, I still need your help skinning it that’s so gross.” You screw your face up and she giggles before moving towards you a skip in her step. 
The people part as you land your ikran on High Camp and step off. You brush the braids from your face and part with your Mother who moves to set the meat aside. She watches you walk off with a gentle scoff appalled her eldest daughter didn’t even help her begin to put stuff away. “MAMA!” Tuk screeches crawling off from her Father’s arms and running full force into her Mother who grunts and picks her up to spin her around happily. 
“Well hello Sexy.” Jake wolf whistles before kissing his wife on the lips and smacking her ass making all of his sons groan from behind him. 
“Dad that’s literally disgusting.” Kiri remarks her nose scrunching and Lo’ak agrees with a gagging noise. 
“You know what, you all literally came from me and your mother, show some love for love.” He wiggles his shoulders and everyone groans besides Tuk who tilts her head. 
“Go and find your sister, she has not finished with her hunting.” Neytiri commands her kids holding up the meat in her hands and they all agree stealing Tuk who eagerly runs down the direction that her sister went towards.
Strutting confidently down and past the tents of the people who live near your head turns from side to side in confusion before a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist spinning you into the arms of your beloved and you giggle happily sighing glad to be within his gaze. 
“My love.” Tarsem breathes out reaching out to press his hand against your cheek and you nuzzle into it staring up into his eyes. He takes a step back to examine your entire body noticing the blood on your stomach and the open cut on your foot and he tuts. He grabs the small amount of Sky Walker medicine from his side and squirts it onto the foot making you hiss loudly. 
“I am fine Ma Tarsem, no need to freet. I am only in need for a kiss.” You purse your lips at him and he wastes no time in leaning up and kissing you softly, pressing you against the tent and gently grabbing your waist. Due to being occupied with the love of your life, you fail to notice the approach of your siblings. 
“Y/N! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Tuk screeches and points at you both making you instantly pull away and look at them seeing an extremely fast approaching Lo’ak and Neteyam, both of which have the same look of rage on their faces. 
Netetyam yanks you back while Lo’ak pulls his thumb and tucks it under his others forming a fist and punching Tarsem making them both yell out, Lo’ak being the loudest. 
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“What the fuck were you thinking!?” Neytiri screams at her sons pacing backwards and forwards in front of all of her kids, besides Tuk who is gently crying in your Fathers arms. His eyes never leave your face and you are unable to read his expression. Your mother sighs seeing the same thing as you do before leaning back. 
“Neteyam, Lo’ak apologize to Tarsem, and Lo’ak thank him for healing your knuckles.” 
“Even though he should’ve let them be in pain forever.” You mumble under your breath and your Mothers head snaps to yours rage very evident in her eyes. 
“Y/N te Suli Neytiri‘ite, I suggest you shut that mouth right now young lady. Now scram.” She hisses at your brothers who tuck their tails between their legs and run out grabbing Tuk to join Kiri who is eavesdropping outside. 
“Have you mated with this boy?” Your father spits out and looks at you both instantly making you blush. 
“NO DAD!” You yelp out staring at him wide eyed and Tarsem coughs making Jake look at him hostile. 
“Something to say boy?” 
“FATHER!” 
“Yes Sir, if I may.” Tarsem clears his throat before grabbing your hand ignoring the glare you are giving the side of his face. Neytiri pauses for a second her rage bubbling down while she notices something. The way you still wear the love for him in your eyes even while you’re angry. Your body relying heavily on his while trying to keep your distance. She is hit with a sense of deja vu. 
“I love your daughter like no other. I know that I come from a family that isn’t particularly high considering this clan but I truly believe I can make her happy and treat her just as she needs to be. She is my mate, chosen from Eywa herself and whether or not you accept that, I will be by her side until the day she sends me away.” Tarsem finishes and you stare at him in bewilderment and love. Your Father notices and storms out heading quickly in another direction. 
“I will be back.” You stand and follow after him quickly seeing him head off more deeper into the woods. He sees a stream and heads over flopping down with a huff. You quickly follow sitting next to him with a soft sigh. 
“What do you want me to say baby girl?” He says after a few moments in silence, continuing to stare at the fish in the stream. You sigh and rest your head on his tense shoulder. 
“I don’t want you mad at me for picking a boy who is lower in the clan.” You say quietly pulling your knees to your chest and laying your head on your knees with your ears pressed to your head. Jake’s head snaps towards you and he sighs pulling you into his arms and sitting you in a rocking position tucking your head into his chest. 
“Baby girl, I will never disrespect who you love. A man, a woman anyone. Just hopefully not a Sky Walker.” You snort at that and shake your head. 
“Then why are you so mad?” You ask and he sighs kissing your head. 
“My baby girl is growing up and getting out into the world. I always knew once your grandmother stepped down as Tsahik, you would become the new one and you would eventually find a mate worthy of becoming Olo’eyektan with you, but now that’s happening a lot sooner and it just makes me sad, because you aren’t the little girl that would never leave me the fuck alone.” He has you crying and you hug him tightly. 
“Daddy please don’t think that. I’m still 18! I have a few more years to worry about that.” You sniffle and he nods before sighing and pulling you up. 
“I love you baby girl.” He grips you tightly in his arms and you smile.
“I love you too Dad.” 
“Now let’s go meet this boy that’s so in love with you.” He teases you making you punch him and he winces walking back rubbing his arm and poking you the whole time back
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 4]
Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.9k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 4)
ie. So the saying goes, 'nothing gold can stay.' Or, the Prefect is facing yet another Overblot and it drags some unpleasant dilemmas to the surface.
A/N: I have been fighting this for a solid hour now, and Tumblr is just being an absolute nightmare and not letting me add any more tags without crashing/refusing to save the post, so if you got kicked off the list, my sincerest apologies
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]
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There was a curt knock on Mozus Trein’s door.
The aging professor fought the inelegant urge to drop his head into his hands. After taking a moment to silently curse every other damned member of faculty at this college, he schooled his expression into a vague attempt at neutrality and cleared his throat.
“Enter.”
Divus Crewel and his ridiculous ensemble strutted into Trein’s office, and the historian barely bit back a sneer. He and the other professor had never gotten on at the best of times. Perhaps they would tolerate one another for the occasional game of chess, but the other man’s opinions on more or less everything (especially dogs. Ugh.) rankled something unpleasant in Trein’s chest. Call him old fashioned, but intentionally sharpening oneself into something miserable, and cold, and alone all in the name of maintaining an appearance of sophistication was something he would never respect.
Lucius growled from his place by the windowsill, and Crewel very noticeably fought to keep himself from raising his hackles in return. The black-and-white monstrosity leant forward and placed a bottle of red whine on Trein’s desk with a clack.
“What is it now?” Mozus frowned.
Divus didn’t bother to sit in the chair opposite him. He never did. He paced along one of the bookcases for a moment, trailing his crimson gloves along the leather spines.
“More of the same, I suspect,” he finally huffed.
Trein sighed and rifled around in his desk drawers to unearth his chest set. Not the good one—the one with hand-carved, stone, pieces that his daughters had given him for his birthday two years ago. This set wasn’t terribly ugly, and it did the job well enough. Plus, the worn colors lining the board always made something in Crewel’s jaw tick.
“Well,” he grumbled, setting the pieces into place and reaching for the wine. Divus Crewel was entirely unpleasant, but at the end of the day, Mozus had never been one to deny a willing student. And oh if there wasn’t so much that this egomaniacal alchemist still needed to learn. “Get on with it then.”
.
.
A part of you was sort of expecting to see one of those ‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ banners nailed to the Rogersons’ front porch.
Which, firstly, come on. It’s not like you maybe vaguely starting to not loathe your time spent with Crewel with every fiber of your being was a crime. And you were still miserable and mad. Stupid, no good, stuck up, no-dad-being, emotionally unavailable—ahem. Excuse you. But you had eaten a few of those fancy cookies. And you were certain that Poe and Perdy would smell Jasper and Badun’s cuddles a mile away. And as much as you rationalized it forwards and backwards that you weren’t wrong, a part of you still felt… traitorous.
Secondly, the Rogersons were genuinely nice people. And you should have known at this point that they of all the adults in your life would hardly judge your for accepting any scraps of kindness being offered to you. (Unlike a certain Old Crow with whom you were well acquainted.)
All that being said, you were still a bit hesitant when you knocked on their front door that evening. Nevertheless, you were met you with a wave of enthusiastic greetings (plus a knitted set of gloves and a hat), as they ushered you back out the door with the promise of new and interesting things.
“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” Mister Rogerson explained. He and Annie were holding hands as you all walked down their quaint street, tucked up neatly in one of the roomy pockets of his overcoat. “And you didn’t get to come with us over the Holidays either.”
“There isn’t much else to do on Sage Island for most of year,” Annie said. “But the Winter Festival is always really lovely.”
The Winter Festival was like something out of a story book—all toned in watercolors and lit with a golden warmth that didn’t really seem feasible when the weather was otherwise so frigid. Magic, probably. Everything wonderous here was always magic. The air smelled honey-sweet, and you could feel the rising heat from dozens of outdoor ovens warming your cheeks.
“It’s busiest over the holiday period,” Annie explained merrily, reaching out to adjust the new hat on your head. “But most of the stalls stay open a few weeks later.”
“You missed all the rides unfortunately,” Mister Rogerson continued, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “But if you’re still around next year, we’ll make sure to bring you when everything’s in full swing.”
There was a decent sized crowd filtering sluggishly through the faire, happy to meander about with their Styrofoam mugs of cocoa and browse the displays. There were more people your age milling about than you would have expected (as nice as this all was, it definitely seemed more like an ideal outing for a retirement home than anyone young enough to still have their original hip bones). Mostly you recognized the clean, crisp, white jackets of the RSA uniform, but occasionally there was a splotch of a more familiar black ensemble darting about amongst them.
“Have you ever had a fritter before?” Mister Rogerson called from his place by a stall that smelled like Heaven compressed into a cubic-meter.
“Not since I’ve been here,” you practically drooled, feeling very much like one of those cartoon characters who could merrily float through the air after the tantalizing scent of baked sweets.
“Do you want the sugar sprinkled? The caramel drizzle?” A laugh then, quick and bright, as he caught sight of the lovestruck (and ravenous) look on your face. “Both?” he offered indulgently.  
There was another laugh then—raucous and loud. And a familiar face darted by with a mouth stuffed full of way too many festively frosted donuts.
“Hey! You get back here!” someone shouted, enraged and shaking their fist. “Free samples’ doesn’t mean a free for all! Did you hear me?! I said get back here!”
But Ruggie Bucchi just kept on running, his fluffy ears perked atop his head and his steel-grey eyes thinned with obvious amusement. He rushed past, and you met gazes just quickly enough to catch a smirk and a wink before he was off and around a corner—surely vanished into areas unknown to enjoy his haul.
You laughed into your gloves and turned back to your escorts for the evening with a beam, ready to suggest maybe just buying out the rest of the stall. Ruggie would love it. He’d probably even help you manage Leona’s tantrums without grumbling for at least, like, a week.
But they weren’t smiling.
The grin on your own lips slowly slipped back down into a flat line, and you fought the urge to fidget. Like somehow you’d done something wrong. Annie just sighed and shook her head. Mister Rogerson pinched at the bridge of his nose with a huff—the picture of a properly disappointed teacher.
“Well, can’t say anyone would expect Night Raven students to not be a handful.”
Something curdled a little in your tummy, and you tamped down the urge to immediately and aggressively rise to Ruggie’s defense. They were only free samples! And he loved donuts! And he never really had much money for anything of his own anyways! And they were free! And!—And…
“Ruggie doesn’t have anybody to buy him donuts,” you said at last, when the vendor handed you your own little paper bag overflowing with fritters.
Annie and Mister Rogerson looked at you curiously, clearly a bit lost, and you huffed.
“Ruggie,” you repeated. “The guy from earlier. With—with the samples.”
You could feel your shoulders hunch, defensive. And you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like—they weren’t going to be mad at you or anything. And Ruggie was your friend. It didn’t seem right to let them just assume the worst of him.
“Oh,” Annie hummed, face softening. “Of course, sweetheart. But maybe he could ask first next time, okay? We’d be happy to treat any of your friends.”
You nodded and nibbled at your fritter. It was warm and crispy, perfectly fried and with a sugar crust that melted on your tongue like the sweetest kiss. It was delicious, really it was. But still somehow not quite as good as you’d thought it’d be.
.
.
When you arrived back to Ramshackle that evening, there was wallpaper on the walls.
You squinted at it suspiciously and tapped one of the glued-down edges with your finger. It didn’t vanish or eat you, so maybe it wasn’t an illusion. But why on Earth would anyone bother to try and give this place a facelift—
The front door burst open and Crowley blew in like a hurricane.
“CONGRATULATIONS!” he boomed. “There’s no one else I trust at this school quite like I trust you, oh wonderful and best of all Prefects! So I’m making you the lead producer for our VDC performance!”
You gaped, too familiarized with this nonsense to be as horrified as you probably ought to be.
“What’s a VDC?” you asked.
“That’s a great question!” Crowley beamed. “But first, let me introduce you to your new roommates!”
When the House Warden of Pomefiore and his entourage walked through your rickety front door, you felt something familiar, and awful, and inky swoop in your stomach.
“This building should be condemned,” Vil Schoenheit sniffed with all the grace of someone who definitely probably had a lot of underlying issues that were about to become your very real problem.
Crowley scuttled forward cheerfully to pin a tag labeled ‘MANAGER’ to your uniform jacket.
“Look how far you’ve come!” he sniffled, wiping dramatically at his gaping, soulless, eyes. “I’M SO PROUD!”
“…You can just put your bags over there,” you mumbled, so far past functioning on autopilot you may as well just ask Idia to turn your brain into an AI and get it over with it.
Epel dropped his suitcase near the living room’s rug and immediately the ancient floorboards opened up like the maw of some ravenous beast to swallow them whole. The group of you watched with varying degrees of distaste as his luggage plummeted to the basement, or… whatever existed below the crumbling wood. You’d never checked.
“I have the upmost faith in you!” Crowley chirped before jetting back out the door as quickly as he’d come.
.
“You did what?!” Crewel snapped.
“What!” Crowley whined. “Isn’t giving your child more responsibilities a sign of trust?! An act of faith between parent and spawn?! DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THEIR COMPETENCE?!”
“No,” Trein groaned, burying his head in his hands.
.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Vil said, with all the cheer of someone undergoing a root canal. “I have nothing but well-wishes for Neige Leblanche and his many, worthy, successes.”
Buzz buzz went Ace’s phone as another of Neige’s advertisements lit the screen.
Drip drip went the heavy, black, magic curling around Vil Schoenheit’s soul.  
You fought the urge to put your head through the wall.
.
.
The next evening came, as did another bottle of too-expensive wine.
Trein swirled the crimson liquid miserably in his glass.
“Do you know that I chastised the Prefect once? For calling Crowley incompetent?”
Divus sounded worn in a way that he most likely had no right to be, but progress was progress Trein supposed. The alchemist snorted sardonically into his own glass. Normally the wine was a bribe for the elder professor alone, but tonight it was a truce to be shared in bleak solidarity.
“Time makes fools of us all,” Trein hummed.
“What is he even thinking?” Crewel seethed. “As if the Prefect isn’t under enough stress as it is. What exactly does he think these stunts will accomplish?”
“I don’t think he’s thinking very much at all, to be perfectly honest with you,” Trein grumbled. “But then again, making impulsive decisions in the name of parental affection is far from a novel concept.”
Divus scoffed. “Ah, yes. Because that’s what the runt needs. A mockup of fatherhood bearing down their neck at every turn. It’s like he’s not even bothering to actually try.”
“Someone ought to be,” Mozus said, pointed. (And it certainly wasn’t going to be him. He had two, lovely, wonderful daughters to fill his heart. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.)
Crewel glowered at him miserably and sighed in a drawn-out sort of way that was not dissimilar to someone taking a too-long drag from a cigarette.
“It’s not something that fits with…” he hesitated, as if trying to chew over the words into something palatable. “I have no desire to give up everything that I’ve ever wanted to see in myself, to give up everything I’ve worked for, just to mold myself into some—some glorified babysitter.”  Something stuck unpleasantly in his throat and he had to clear it twice before continuing. “Especially for someone who may very well be leaving this world forever in a few months as it is.”
The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously through the silence. Each little second fell in a heavy clunk. clunk. clunk. that echoed around the room with all the gentility of a gong. After a long moment, Trein sighed into his glass.
“Being a parent is not about sacrificing your own sense of self in order to cater to your child,” he huffed. “It is about being there to nurture the development of their own.”
Crewel pointedly averted his gaze to one of the ugly, cat-centric, paintings on the wall.
“And perhaps for you a handful of months may not be sufficient,” the older man continued, swirling his wine. “But I’m sure for the Prefect, it would make all the difference in the world.”
.
.
Detention continued, despite your stacking ‘managerial responsibilities.’
Thankfully, it had mostly turned into you sitting in Crewel’s office while you sorted through whatever paperwork you were expected to file and complete. Sometimes a good chunk of the pages would disappear from your ‘in progress’ pile and reappear—perfectly completely and in order—at the end of the evening. You were dead set on never addressing it ever, because if you did he might stop. And he was probably the only reason you were managing to get any of it done on time at all.
Even with Professor Crewel’s help, you were still slow today. And as the night crawled to a close, you found yourself staring at a stack of blank pages without a thought to go with them. The only thing swimming in your head was murky tar and the cloying taste of black magic that came with it.  
“Is there something you want to discuss?” Crewel called from his desk across the room. “You seem distracted.”
“I can’t,” you grumbled, something wobbling in your jaw. “Not to the people I want to talk about it with at least.”
Something shuttered slipped across his expression, and he nodded and went back to his own work. You stared at him for another moment, debating.
“What do you if—” you froze and hurriedly looked back down to the pen in your hands.
“If…?” Crewel pressed.
You sighed. “You know, sometimes you care about people, yeah? And maybe they’re not always perfect, but you still care. But then…” You chewed at your lip. “I don’t know. Can people still be good if they do bad things sometimes? Like, if you’d disagree with them completely, but they see it as right anyways?��
‘They’d be taken away?’
‘I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?’
You thought of Riddle, and Leona, and Azul, and Jamil. And now Vil. You grit your teeth so hard they started to ache.
Professor Crewel looked a bit startled, and you couldn’t really blame him. It was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks.
“I suppose that would depend on you,” he said after a moment. “And if that ‘disagreement’ was big enough to change how you viewed them entirely.”
“I don’t know…” you frowned. It certainly felt like something big. But...
“Well, what have you done about it?”
You blinked. “What?”
He waved his hand at you, and that pointer of his snapped across his palm. “Have you told this person that what they’ve said bothered you?”
“…well, no,” you mumbled.
“Then that’s what you need to do first,” he said, firm. “You won’t have an answer to anything you’re fretting about until you can face that at least.”
“And then what?”
Professor Crewel hesitated then, his mouth working as if he couldn’t really decide what he wanted to say. Or maybe like he was thinking over his words very, very, carefully.
“Do they know that they’ve done wrong by you?” he asked at last, not quite as sharp as before. “And—more importantly—if they know they’ve upset you, are they trying to make it right?”
You had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t really talking about your question anymore. The words settled heavily in your gut, but not in a way that was entirely unpleasant. More like the comfort after eating a full meal rather than the all-encompassing dread that so often took residence there instead. You thought of fancy cookies, and dogs, and cozy coats that were warmer and softer than the best blankets you’d ever used.
“Right,” you said after a moment, and glanced away with a secretive sort of smile. “I guess that would be the most important bit.”
.
.
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pin-k-ink · 9 months
Text
Fushiguro Toji X Reader
cw: age gap, slight bondage, spanking, voyeuriesm (kinda), college au
Toji glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Watching you innocently strut around his house in that short little skirt of yours. The ruffles swaying side to side as you walked, frustrating him as he saw a peek at your cute pink underwear. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this towards his son’s friend.
You were merely only a college student. Heck, he was old enough to be your dad. But that didn’t stop him from eyeing you all over the moment you entered his home. He knew he wanted to claim you the moment he set his eyes on you.
You were just the kind of girl he liked. Innocent, unsuspecting, naive, and ignorant. At least that was what he thought. After the first few days of your visits, he had learned something quite interesting about you. That beneath that cute exterior, was a vixen. He knew it when you started wearing those skimpy outfits of yours, purposely wiggling your hips whenever you walked by him, ‘accidentally’ brushing a knowing hand on his crotch, bending down just enough to show him the curvature of your butt. He swore, he could make out your pussy lips. It was a sign. A sign that what he desired was right in front of him, but he could never get it.
He must admit, he never expected someone like you to be so two faced. But, he was going to show you. He was going to show you what happens when you vex a man like him. It was the perfect opportunity. Megumi had gone out, leaving you behind to let you finish your half of the project. Taking the chance, Toji observed the way you moved about Megumi’s room through the door. He nearly pounced on you when you reached up over to take a pen on the top of the cupboard. Your skirt rising up to show him your pert, juicy ass.
Toji groaned, you were like a sitting duck, and he was the hunter. He discreetly opened the door and locked it from the inside, making his way towards you. He cornered you like a little mouse, pressing you against the cupboard. He heard your breath hitch, and he grinned. Guess you weren’t all you cut out to be.
“Naughty little girl. Having fun, were you? Teasing me in front of my own son... were you hoping I’d lose control? Were you hoping I’d bend you over the kitchen table, and fuck you while Megumi watched? Does that shit get you hot? Disgusting... didnt your parents ever teach you some manners?” You shuddered as his hot breath hit your nape, his hard on pressing on your ass.
Toji stepped back a few and spoke again. “Luckily, I know how to deal with desperate, cock hungry sluts like you.” He took off his belt and used it to bind your hands behind your back. He reached over for Megumi’s tie, that was on one of the hangers and used it as a blindfold, temporarily blinding you.
With your senses heightened, you were starting to feel a little paranoid. Toji chuckled as he saw you struggling a bit. He moved and grasped the end of his belt and lead you to the bed, shoving you down on top of the mattress. He dragged your skirt and panties down and began to run his hands on the skin of your ass.
“Now, little girl. I want you to count, got it? I’ll tell you when to stop.” As soon as he finished his sentence, you felt a sharp pain on your ass. Each hit more forceful than the last. Each smack stimulating your clit, making you even more wet than you you were before. After a thirty unbearable strikes, Toji finally tells you to stop counting.
Thinking it was finally over, you began to relax. But you jolted forward when you felt something slimy on you cunt. “Mmm... so wet. Did something like that turn you on? And you taste fucking incredible. What would your parents think when they find out their daughter is a kinky little shit.”
You whimpered, having enough of resisting him. “Please, Toji. Do something.” You wiggled your hips at him, hoping he would get the message. When he did, he grinned and dove down to lick a stripe up your slit, flicking your clit. One of his thick fingers came to prod at your pussy lips, spreading it open for Toji to plunge his tongue inside you. “Yess... Toji, m’so close.”
Instead of helping you cum, Toji moves away. Tears well up in your eyes as you thrash around. “If you want me to help you cum, beg for it, baby.”
“Toji please, please fuck me. I don’t care if I have to crawl out of here, I just need your cock, please-“ You were cut short when you felt the sharp pain of his dick entering into your cunt. “Good fucking girl.” Toji praised as he thrusted into you from behind. His hands gripping onto your hips, surely leaving bruises with how hard he was holding them.
He tugged on his belt that was tied around your hands and brought you up straight. Pressing you against his chest, he grasped on of your thighs and tugged them upwards, hitting his cock deeper with the new angle. The tip of his rod kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“You like that, baby? Fuck, I know you do. You’re getting so incredibly wet. God, you’re mine now. All mine. Mine. Mine. Mine...” Toji’s words began to fall into nonsense as his thrusts lost its rhythm. A sign that he was close to cumming. Your body also began convulsing, the coil in your stomach tightening until it snapped and you clenched down hard on his rod, your orgasm washing over you as Toji began to fill your womb to the brim with his cum.
As you both lay panting on the side of the mattress, you were both unaware of the person that stood on the other side of the door, panting as he finished blowing his own load. He clicked his tongue, disgusted by the fact that he got off to his father fucking his friend.
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hinaaspanda · 2 years
Text
off limits! | j.ww
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pairing: brother's best friend! Jeon Wonwoo x fem! reader
warnings: 18+ content, swearing
genre: fluff, some angst, crack, smut; fingering, protected sex, dirty talk + praising
wc: 9,907
For years, you've had a crush on your brother's best friend; Jeon Wonwoo. Though, with him being so close to your brother, you couldn't do anything about those feelings, so you tuck them away and get over him. After not seeing him for years, you thought you were safe, free from a world of loving him. But, all of that changes when you meet him again... as your roommate!
a/n: hi! I'm back with my first fic for seventeen! I'm going through major wonwoo brainrot rn. this is also my first time writing for the smut genre so I hope you enjoy!
...
Currently, you stood before the one man you wanted nothing more than to avoid.
The best friend of your obnoxious brother, Jeon Wonwoo.
You felt Mingyu’s shoulder roughly brush past yours, dropping off the last of the boxes. You, however, couldn’t find yourself to put down the box nesting in your arms. You were too trapped in a world of shock to do so. Wonwoo pushed a few of his boxes off to the side as you watched Mingyu shuffle closer to his best friend—his best friend who had just moved away to an entirely new city for university, and who just so happened to be your new roommate.
6 feet under the ground has never looked more comfortable.
It wasn’t that you hated him or anything. As of right now, the two of you were—in a formal sense—acquaintances. However, a few years ago that would have been a different story. Sure, you may have never uttered more than a sentence to the quiet best friend of Kim Mingyu, but that didn’t stop you from growing absolutely infatuated with him. Thinking about him at every chance you got, daydreaming about him amidst the boring lectures of your high school social class.
His distance didn’t stop your heart from its emotional chase, but his proximity to your brother did. Every weekend Wonwoo would visit, every night he would stay late for dinner—it all reminded you of the roadblock that was your brother. So, after months of pining, with all the effort in your being, you finally decided to drop Jeon Wonwoo from your heart. What remained was the mundane label of acquaintances.
And now, roommates, apparently.
“I think that’s the last of it,” Mingyu said with a proud huff. Gathering his belongings, Mingyu strutted his way to the front door of your new home. The new home that, for some reason, you couldn’t forget was Wonwoo’s, too. Mingyu shot a pointer finger at your chest. “Call mom and dad when you get settled, okay? I gotta go. See ya y/n, you too Wonwoo!”
After bumping fists with Wonwoo for one last time, Mingyu headed out the door. The door slammed shut, and the two of you stood in silence, both of your eyes glued to the tops of your shoes. Not once in your life did you think you would ever say this, but maybe you missed your boisterous brother. Without his overbearing, annoying presence, the air between Wonwoo and you wouldn’t have been so thick, so tense.
To say this was a new situation to be in would be a deep understatement. Despite knowing him for years, you could never remember a time where you were alone with Wonwoo. Without distractions, or the overbearing presence of your brother. Just the two of you. Alone.
And now, you would spend the next few months just like that. Alone.
Without thinking, you break off the silence. Cringey– smack your head against the wall and curl up into a ball– kind of cringey small talk spills from your mouth. All the while your brain screams at you to shut up. Luckily, Wonwoo was kind enough to answer your embarrassingly useless questions about his life.
“You know, I’m surprised you even remember me” You suddenly spill out. Your eyes widen. What was wrong with you?
Wonwoo's head dipped down, his eyes catching a glimpse of you before falling back down to his slippers.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think I could ever forget about you.”
Woah. Okay. That was weird. You could feel your cheeks flare up.
Wonwoo and you each steal a glance from each other's eyes, like nervous middle schoolers at a school dance. You wanted to rip your eyes away from him and his… changed physique, but you once again caught yourself staring the moment he shined an innocent smile.
God, okay.
"Er, why don't we start unpacking?" you chirped hastily, wanting nothing more than to escape the suffocating air of awkwardness.
With a ceramic bowl in your hands, you stood still. Gawking at the towering shelf before you. It couldn't be helped, you didn't know what to do when the only vacant space for said bowl was at the very top of said shelf. You try a variety of preliminary solutions first; reaching with all your might, balancing on your tippy toes to close the gap. It didn’t work. An exhausted sigh pushed through your lips, that same sigh switching to a low toned groan by the end of it. The way you were going to reach it? Only God knew.
Safe to say, you were not expecting this specific solution.
You felt a sudden warmth ghosting behind you. Closely behind. Maybe a few centimeters. You inhale sharply, the shock stunning you. Your eyes graze over a particularly toned arm reaching beside, then past yours. It’s fingers snatching the bowl away from your pitiful ones. Your ears perk up to the sound of shifting, and another hand snakes around your side, fully entraping your figure against the counter. You prayed the heat of your skin came from the poorly conditioned apartment.
“Here, let me help you,” Wonwoo said nonchalantly, through a grin. So aloof, so opposite to how flustered you felt. His towering arm placed the bowl on the shelf. He stood in that position—trapping you against the counter—for a few more seconds (but what felt like an eternity) before returning to his own things to unpack. You barely stuttered a response, wanting nothing more than to suffocate in the bubble wrap from the boxes.
There was a specific horror when it came to sharing everything with Boo Seungkwan. You see, he had a slight tendency to make sure you never forget.
That man in question, along with you and your other best friend, Vernon, sat on Vernon’s couch. The original plan was to enjoy the weekend in each other’s company while watching a movie everyone could enjoy. Instead, you sat silently in the middle, munching your way through the chip as your two friends argued over the remote.
“No, I’m choosing. We are not gonna sit through another one of your stupid artsy films!”
“They’re not stupid, you’re just too stupid to understand whats going on!”
“Last time we watched a movie you chose, I had to sit through 10 minutes of two people having sex with a crowd of people moaning along. Never. Again.”
You wince at the memory of the movie that made a new definition of horror in your books. Vernon snatched the remote again. “My house, my movie.”
Seungkwan scowled. “Then we’re never watching a movie under your roof again. Next time we’re at my place.”
Vernon barked back. “With a couch we can barely fit on? Nice try!”
“At least we’ll be cozy and not traumatized!”
Vernon sighed, suddenly handing the remote to you. “Okay fine, why don’t we go to Y/n’s house next time, and she can pick the movie.”
You jolt at the sudden mention of your name.
Your eyes scan Seungkwan’s expression, an expression which switches immediately into one of mischief. An evil grin shines on his face as he sends a nudging elbow to your side. His eyebrows wiggle, and you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what was bound to come next. “Yeah! And we can finally meet Mr. Roomie/Mingyu’s best friend that Y/n’s got the hots for!!”
Heat running to your cheeks, you shove Seungkwan’s shoulder. Hard. “I don’t have the ‘hots’ for him, dumbass. I just had a… small crush on him when we were kids, that’s all.”
“Uh huh, okay.” His tone bled unimpressed. “That’s not what it sounded like when you called me last week.” Now Vernon was interested, cocking an eyebrow at your direction.
You nipped at your lips. Shit. He was right. When you called him—on the day you moved in—you sounded a little too freaked out to be completely indifferent about your new roommate.
It was unclear how you truly felt about Jeon Wonwoo. But one thing's for sure, it wasn’t normal.
“Oh, Y/n” Seungkwan sighed dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders for an embrace. “I dunno about you, but I wouldn’t ignore someone like him! I think there's definitely something there, girl.”
You never thought you’d say this, but you missed 5 minutes ago, when the topic of conversation was the unique movie tastes of your friends, and the chosen mode of communication was yelling, despite them literally being one person— you— apart. At least then, you weren’t stuck thinking about your berserk living situation.
There’s definitely something there.
Seungkwan’s words played over and over again in your head. On the bus ride home, as you got ready for bed, and as you tucked yourself in your cozy covers, those 4 words replayed.
As smart as Boo Seungkwan claimed to be, he was wrong on this one. You didn’t have feelings for your roommate. The night you moved in— the ceramic bowl incident, as Vernon liked to call it— was just a slip up. One mistake in a sea of second chances. You were fine. After all, a week has passed since you moved in, and to your surprise, the two of you were actually settling in quite nicely. Quick exchanges of small talk filled the shared air, replacing the tense silence your week began with. Slowly the two of you began to open up, chatting about your day during your shared meals. Wonwoo even proposed the brilliant idea of having a dishwashing schedule. You could still remember how proud he was when he thought of the idea.
It was almost… cute.
You caught yourself, fingers pulling down your cheeks as you try to hide the smile that came so automatically at the thought of that damn dishwashing schedule. The heat that rose to your cheeks when you think of how easy it was to talk to him nowadays. No. You were not going to fold now.
With a final huff jumping from your chest, you hop out of your bed, ready to start your day. Your day, that, with enough determination, would be free of weird thoughts regarding your roommate. You hovel to the apartment living room, your tired eyes immediately making contact with a certain bowl shaped head. Complete in his loose fitted white t-shirt, black joggers, and thin rimmed glasses. His fingers clutched onto a gaming controller, his fingers moving the controls that gave life to his first person shooter. As if your gaze summoned him, Wonwoo turned around, a smile beaming from his lips.
“Good morning!”
You watched him grin at you with his lightly tousled bed hair. You instinctively wrap an arm around your stomach, to hide the somersaults it was currently performing under your shirt. Convincing yourself that it was the morning hunger, you shine a bogus smile. “Morning!”
To say that he’s changed within the years you methodically avoided him would be a deep understatement. Though he was presently sitting down, past encounters with him proved that he towered over you. He’d always been taller than you, but now the difference was much more dramatic. And while he stood massively before you, at least back then he was lanky, built with little to no muscle. Now? God generously replaced that lanky frame with a physique gifted from, well, the gods. Sure, his shirt was loose, but his arm and chest muscles still managed to peek through the fabric. You catch your stubborn eyes staring at his broad shoulders a little longer than you expected.
His face managed to change, too. It grew more sculpted, his cheeks chiseled and jawline so sharp it could cut you. Though the idea of touching his jaw didn’t scare you off, only intriguing you. You shook your head aggressively, shaking away those horrid thoughts.
You pivot on your heel, beginning to make your way to the kitchen. You weren’t strong enough to handle whatever your heart was going through, so you opted for a light breakfast instead.
However, you can never have it your way, now can you?
The clicks of the controller stopped for a second, and Wonwoo’s voice peaks in your ears.
“Wanna play with me?”
“Uh, Wonwoo” You slowly inched away from the screen. After dropping into the game’s world, it had finally hit you that you had no idea how to even play. His gaze which burned your back, however. It distracted you from the game entirely. You clear your throat.
“How do you play?”
“Bruh” Wonwoo muttered, and you gave an apologetic laugh. Maybe you did deserve the lecture about not skipping the very simple tutorial that only played once so you wouldn’t die within two minutes of the game. You moved the controls randomly, dropping items and taking damage like it was no tomorrow, all against Wonwoo’s best interest. You almost wanted to do it out of spite, just to mess with him a little.
Guess Wonwoo had a little trick up his sleeve as well.
“Oh my god, okay, here.”
Without warning, you felt two muscular arms slither around your waist, connecting at the controller you also held snug against your chest. Sparks pop against your skin, and you shiver in surprise. You honestly couldn’t tell if your jaw was touching the carpet floor or not, or if you had the chance to blink. You couldn't make sense of anything. Nothing made any goddamn sense. The pads of his thumbs trace your fingers, your peripheral vision showing truly how small your hands were compared to his.
“This button is used to shoot, okay?” his voice rumbled deep—was his voice always this deep?— as he practically whispered flush against your ear. You couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. You inhale deeply, compensating from your current lack of air. The way each syllable tingled against your skin. You were never going to survive real life, never mind this stupid video game. “Here, you can check your inventory, and here, you can change your weapon.”
It was as if time had stopped. Your mind was going crazy. The delicate touch of his fingers, the tingles of his voice on your skin, his frame encasing yours in his arms—all of it. You couldn’t handle one single bit of it. You couldn’t give two flying fucks about the game at this point. A part of you wanted to stay, just like this.
Abruptly, however, the ding of the doorbell sounds throughout the apartment. The two of you jolt awake, and you jump away from each other. Wonwoo glances away immediately. Almost as if he was flustered. After composing yourself, you trot to the door, and peek through the apartment camera.
It was your brother. Kim fucking Mingyu.
“Basketball game?” You and Wonwoo chirped in unison.
“Yeah!” Mingyu grinned from across the kitchen table. He cradled the glass containers full of homemade food, a gift to you— courtesy of your thoughtful mother. He tilted his head to you. “I thought I texted you about it?”
You froze. “Oh.” Okay, it wasn’t your fault your brain had been quite preoccupied as of recently. “I didn’t see it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mingyu swayed his hand. “I want you guys to come watch!”
Wonwoo and you glance at one another, your movements falling in unison as you discuss the possibility of attending. A discussion that needed minimal words, as if you could already read each other’s mind. It piqued your brother’s interest, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Since when did you two get so close?”
You froze, fingers nervously dancing on your tabletop. A wave of fear shot down your spine as your eyes refused to look at Wonwoo; your brother’s best friend. You would very much rather die a slow, painful death, than to have your brother realize his best friend and his little sister were getting too close for comfort.
Of course, your cheeks heat up at the thought of getting closer with Wonwoo. You shake your head, squinting. Stop it. Now’s definitely not the time.
The low ahem grumbled from your side, and Wonwoo shifted forward. His tone sounded swift, almost panicked. Like he was trying to hide something. “We’re roommates, of course we’re close.”
Wonwoo looked at you once more, shining a smile. You turn to your brother, your smile being fully false. “Uh, yeah!”
You watched as Mingyu’s eyes darted between your figures, narrowing in suspicion before widening back up. You heave a sigh of relief. For once, you were grateful for your brother’s slowness. “Oh right, why didn’t I realize?” His laugh filled the kitchen air, and the two of you laughed along.
Right. You huffed. You and Wonwoo were nothing but roommates to each other. Anything more could lead to a confusing, and unfavorable event.
You watched as Wonwoo locked your apartment door, the evening lights peeking through the window serving as your first indication that it was time for dinner together. Dinner together. You couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit fuzzy as you placed down two of each utensil on your shared table.
You slap yourself. Snap out of it!
“Mingyu’s kinda slow, isn’t he?” Wonwoo’s voice perked through your ears. “He really forgot that we were roommates.”
Your chest releases a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah”
Roommates. That's what you two were. Though, you weren’t quite sure who that reminder was really for. You wanted it to be for him, but the sinking feeling in your chest could suggest who it was really meant for.
There were two sounds that took over the apartment air that Saturday evening. The faint audio of a romantic comedy, and the much more prominent sounds of you and Wonwoo, arguing about said romantic comedy.
“This is ridiculous,” Wonwoo gestured a very judgmental hand towards the screen, where the male lead just so happened to bump into his female love interest in a completely different country. “There’s no way he’d meet her across the country by accident, that’s not realistic at all.”
You waved your hands, frustrated at the sheer man energy Wonwoo was exhibiting, trying to explain everything with dumb realism. “Are you dumb? This is a drama, it’s not supposed to be realistic!”
Wonwoo only grimaced before quieting down, sinking into the couch before continuing the film. You knew he always had a bone to pick with anything that didn’t fit nicely into the realms of realism,—rich coming from a literal gamer, but okay— so it was a surprise when your brother’s best friend asked to join you during your weekly rom-com binge. Though now you were close to taking back your words, seeing as his only motivation was to give you a goddamn headache.
As the two of you grow immersed in the screen, with sprinkles of bickering here and there, an hour and a half passes on the clock, and the two of you finally reach the finale. The two main leads find each other at opposite ends at a crosswalk. The music queues and sudden rain pours in. As the walking lights turn green, the two characters meet at the center of the road, a passionate kiss locking between their lips. And with that, the credits roll. It was as unrealistic as you can get. A pure product of fiction. You were expecting Wonwoo to explode with confusion. This ending infuriating his realism fueled brain. However, he seemed to be focused on something else entirely.
“That was a bad kiss scene.” Your brother’s best friend blurted out. It took you aback, your eyes bouncing between him and the screen. “Huh?”
“There was no build up, the guy sorta just rushed in. If the audience didn’t know anymore, they would’ve thought that he just smacked her head or something.”
You looked back at the screen, thinking back to the kiss. He did have a point, the main male lead did seem a little rushed. You wonder if the kiss scene was actually as good as you initially thought, or if its quality was just masked by the cool lighting and special effects.
Wait. Your brows furrow. What did he even know?
Was Jeon Wonwoo a good kisser?
Almost immediately, certain thoughts take over your brain. Your heart was beating faster and faster with each tick of the clock above you. You nip at your lips. No, no, no. You couldn’t have those thoughts in your head. The last thing you wanted was to develop anything for your brother’s best friend. The consequences of doing such were too much for your tiny brain to comprehend.
Yet, why couldn’t you stop thinking about it?
“What do you know about kissing, anyways?” You probe defensively, though you weren’t sure what the defense was for. “You think you could do better or something?”
“Oh, way better.” Wonwoo said with a puffed chest and a familiar heat began to creep on your cheeks. “Unlike him, I wouldn’t rush it. I’d take my time with her…”
Wonwoo’s eyes met yours. “...Savor her.”
You felt queasy to your stomach. Only now, at this very moment, did you become very aware of how intimate you two currently were. Shoulder to shoulder on your living room couch, dim lights cascading off your figures as the evening light grew dark. Wonwoo’s chest was just centimeters away from yours, which was heaving in and out at this point.
“I wouldn’t be rough with her. If I'm kissing her, I need to cherish her. I never waste my kisses.”
Were you dreaming? So far, none of this movie night seemed to be real, except for maybe the very fictional film you watched. Everything else felt just like a dream
But for some reason, you didn’t want to wake up.
With one last ghost of his fingertips, Wonwoo pinches your cheek. You wake up to an innocent seeming grin before watching him shoot up from the couch. You didn’t go after him though, you were still too stunned, too frozen to move.
Why was Jeon Wonwoo shaking you up so much?
Panic quickly overtook you.
With the amount of steps you took while pacing around the living room floor, you were convinced you had just walked a marathon. Your teeth pick at the skin of your lips, your fingers—lined with anxiety—fiddling with each other. Your eyes dart back to the clock. 7:49.
In about 5 minutes, Wonwoo would come home.
To say that lately, you’ve been on edge when it comes to your brother’s best friend, would be a grave understatement. One moment, he’s snug against your frame while playing video games, or telling you how good of a kisser he was while watching a tv drama. The next? He's busy convincing his best friend that nothing stood between you aside from the mere label of roommates. Wonwoo was making you go crazy. And so, you found yourself building a wall between the two of you, one brick at a time.
At first, you deemed the plan too harsh. But one thing was for certain.
You couldn’t let yourself fall in love with Jeon Wonwoo. Your brother’s best friend.
During the past weeks, you ate together less, hiding behind the lousy excuse of school assignments. You avoided his eyes every time you grazed his figure at the hall. You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to avoid contact with your roommate. After all, you needed to do all you could to get rid of these estranged feelings.
Your original plan today was to avoid your brother’s roommate, just as usual, but your escape route for the day had miraculously blown up in your face, with both Seungkwan and Vernon both canceling on you mere hours before you were about to head out the door. And with no back up plan at your side, you had nothing else to fall back to once Jeon Wonwoo came back home.
A click sounds from the front door, and you jolt back to reality. Shit.
The door slowly swings open, and a figure emerges. He brushes his hair—soaked from the crashing rain outside—away from his face. Your stubborn eyes couldn’t help but travel down, briefly locking with the translucency of his white shirt, which the rain water made sure not to miss. His eyes meet yours, and for some reason, you couldn’t seem to rip yours away from his grasp.
“Hey y/n!” He chirped with a smile, his deep voice rumbling in your ears. You hum a simple response, eyes mapping out your escape route to the stairs— which wasn’t at all in your favor. Your only path to freedom was the hallway before you, the hallway that Wonwoo also stood in front of. With his eyes still burning through your figure, a question jumps from his lips. “Have you eaten?”
His words led to realize that you had, in fact, not eaten dinner. You couldn’t reveal that, though.
“I’m not that hungry,” A bogus smile lifts your cheeks. You thought that that was enough, that your words were plenty for him to accept your rejection. But, of course, a loud, low grumble echos from your stomach, causing the both of you to glance down. Wonwoo glances back up at you, cocking an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Positive! Now, if you’ll excuse me- ” You chirp, two words occupying your brainspace. Run. NOW.
You dash to the end of the hallway, eyes glued to the tiled floor. Maybe, just maybe, if you looked away, Wonwoo would forget that you were there.
Clearly, though, he didn’t.
Just as your shoulder brushed past his, you felt a harsh tugging sensation at your wrist. You spring back, your gaze meeting a particularly soaked chest. After stalling your hardest for about 5 seconds, you finally glance up. Wonwoo’s eyes, however, had already been on you. Hell, you were convinced they never left your figure since he got home.
“Is something wrong?” Wonwoo grilled, eyes taking the time to map your figure. You swat your hand, resisting the temptation to stay right where you were. Right in front of him. “Just not feeling it, that’s all,”
“I’m not just talking about tonight,” The end of his sentence grew rough and gritted. His grasp on your wrist grew tighter as he pulled you closer to him. “You’ve been acting weird for a while now, you don’t think I haven’t noticed?”
Isn’t it obvious? You thought. I need to get away from you. Otherwise, I’ll fall in love with you even more.
“You’ve haven’t said a word to me in weeks and you’re always stuck up in your room. At first, I was fine with giving you space but now, it’s like you're avoiding me.”
You pick at your lips, averting his gaze.
“I just wanna know what’s going on, y/n.” His voice sounded weak, almost desperate. Your heart chipped, your stomach churning in guilt. You stayed silent, your arm growing heavy in his grasp. Wonwoo finally sighed, shoulder slumping forward as he let your wrist go, defeat ghosting over his back. “Okay then.”
It was as if a bullet shot through your chest, your heart crumbling into grains of sand. Your heart swelled up, overflowing with emotions you couldn’t even fathom or explain. Your head was spinning on the spot. A part of you wanted nothing more than to give in, to forget it all and throw yourself into his arms. A flood of images rushed to your mind; Mingyu, Mingyu with Wonwoo, and lastly, Wonwoo with you. The image of his smile staining your mind a little longer.
You couldn’t be with him. It could ruin everything.
Pivoting your feet, you take one glance at Wonwoo. His gaze finally began to drop from your figure. You gulp, a cog in your brain suddenly shifting.
Fuck it, None of that mattered anymore.
It was all a rush. Without your brain properly functioning, you pivot again. Your chin aligned with his chest and your eyes finally met his. Confidently. As you threw every conscious and careful thought away from you, you took a step forward. And another. Until the gap between your figures closed shut. He stares back blankly, his eyes glinting with a sense of the same need your body flared up with, the need that you denied yourself so many times. All because of whatever labels you two gave yourselves. With your stomach flipping in on itself, you close your eyes.
And kiss him.
You were off limits. Jeon Wonwoo knew that much.
Wonwoo never knew why you stood out so much every time he’d stay over at Mingyu’s house. At first, he concluded that it was because you were an innocent girl hanging out in a sea of rowdy teenage boys. With his calm demeanor, you seemed like a dream to hang out with, compared to the others. Next, he concluded that it was just a coincidence, and that he wasn’t actually seeing you constantly. While that was partly true; the fact that you weren’t actually in his sight constantly, in truth, you plagued his mind like a disease. The symptoms? Lovesickness and a mild headache.
His love sickness came into play every chance it got. Every time you’d show up during one of Mingyu’s get togethers, every time you would spare him a wave before he left to go back home. Each and every time you entered his life, he melted into a puddle.
However, no matter how smitten he was with you, there was a constant reminder of the one person standing in his way. His best friend, Kim Mingyu. It was beyond wrong to go for the little sister of his closest friend, that was almost a given. And with that, Wonwoo let both you, and the idea of being anything more than friends, go. Though thinking back, Wonwoo could never tell if his feelings truly left.
Nevertheless, all of that would be forgotten at his second year in University. With his first roommate bailing on him at the last minute, Wonwoo needed a new roommate, and fast. Luckily, you were just starting at the same university, and needed a roommate yourself. So, without missing a beat, Wonwoo called up Mingyu and packed his things.
It didn’t take long for his heart to settle back into his old feelings the moment you two moved in together. It was as instant as fireworks popping in the sky. As soon as he saw your cheeky, gummy smile, Wonwoo could tell he folded. He was falling for you all over again. And when you began to open up to his conversations and accept his greetings, Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel bright inside.
There were moments where he couldn’t control himself, he was the first to admit. Moments he may have taken his secret feelings out of hiding for a little longer than expected. Safe to say, anyone could tell that Wonwoo was in love with you.
Well, except for you.
At least that was what Wonwoo thought the moment you began to ignore him. Began to build a wall of anonymity between you. Wonwoo was left at a loss. He didn’t want to lose you again. And that was why, when you finally kissed him, and a flood of emotions rushed in, Wonwoo had no other choice but to kiss you back with all the might in his being. He finally understood those rough kiss scenes in those dramas you loved so much.
An arm snakes around your waist as Wonwoo clings onto your frame, pressing it snug against his own. He felt bad for the once dry fabric of your bedtime clothes, rubbing against his— which had been soaked from the rain outside— probably wasn’t a good idea. But ultimately, it didn’t matter. A free hand cups your jaw, Wonwoo’s knuckles running white from excitement, thrill. It didn’t matter where, Wonwoo just needed to hold you. Keep you in his touch so you wouldn’t run away again. Wonwoo felt a set of fingers cling onto the buttons of his dress shirt, butterflies setting off in his stomach at the realization that they were yours. You felt the same way, you never wanted to let go.
Your lips pluck apart as the two of you take deep breaths, chests heaving. Your eyes hold onto each other as if they were each other’s source of life. Right now, it seemed like that was very much the case. After collecting yourself, your eyes dip down to your feet—the embarrassment finally settling in. Your head was spinning. Was any of this real? Had you just locked lips with the man you’ve had feelings for, for your entire life? Your chest heaved, heart beating rapidly in Wonwoo’s presence. In Wonwoo’s trance.
“I-I,” You stutter out, still breathless from the kiss. “I can explain!”
Wonwoo only chuckled, the deep timber of his voice rumbling in his chest. “What’s with the switch up? I thought you hated me.”
Shocked, you look up. “What? No! I could never hate you!” Your fingers leave his side, meeting in front of you, fiddling with each other. “I just… didn’t know what to do. I was conflicted. I’ve liked you since we were kids, but I couldn’t do anything about it because-”
“-of Mingyu, right?” Wonwoo finished your sentence. Your eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. How’d you know?”
Wonwoo booped your nose with his pointer. “I felt the same way about you, dummy. Could you really not tell?”
Instinctively, you jab at his chest, taking note of how firm it felt under your fist. Jesus, could he be anymore perfect? You turn your head, averting his beautiful gaze. “You didn’t even tell me!”
“Should I have made it more clear? I was being quite obvious.”
Your mind wanders back to the past week, where various moments managed to send your mind spinning. They were all planned. Wonwoo wasn’t playing with you, he was simply showing you, demonstrating to you how he felt. And your foolish mind decided to run away. You were glad you couldn’t run far; running from him would’ve been a mistake you would never recover from.
You blush, though you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment, his flustering existence, or all of the above. You clear your throat, eyes wandering aimlessly. “So… what do we do now?”
“Well, if you're comfortable with it…” Wonwoo pulled you against his chest, both arms snaking around your hips. “I think we can forget about your brother for a while.”
You pick at your lips.
Wonwoo’s palm hugs your cheek. “Can I be your boyfriend, y/n?”
You smile, leaning into the warmth of his palm. “I think you already know my answer, Jeon Wonwoo.”
“Mm, care to remind me?” With his free hand covering your other cheek, Wonwoo teasingly pulls you in once more.
This second kiss seemed much more rushed, much more hungry. Your hands hang onto his neck, fingers gripping onto his collar tighter than before. Your chest heaves faster, breath hitching between each prolonged kiss. Wonwoo’s breaths grow restless, a low toned groan escaping his lips as his brows furrow.
Just for this moment, you could be free.
12 days. You had about 12 days of complete peace.
It was the stuff of fairytales. He was a fairytale. Jeon Wonwoo was the best boyfriend you could ask for. It didn’t matter how much you two saw each other, being roommates didn’t stop you from having such magical dates outside of your apartment. Cafe, bookstores and libraries, parks, you name it; he took you there. Though, your favorite type of dates had to be after classes, when the two of you would drive out to the edge of the city, wait for the sky to paint black, and have a late night picnic under a blanket of stars. Despite how much he loved sleeping in, he never forgot to make you breakfast every morning. He drove you to school and back, exchanged book recommendations with you, and knew just how to comfort you when you couldn’t seem to swim in a sea of blue. Jeon Wonwoo was a dream, and this time, you never wanted to wake up.
The only thing that itched at the back of your brain, that kept everything from being perfect, was that everything was a secret. To your brother, most definitely, but you kept a low profile about it around school. Or well, you tried to. But there were some days where you truly couldn’t resist sneaking in a few kisses in between classes. However, when it came to your brother, it was all a secret. It was safer that way.
A faint ping! jumps from your phone. You pull out the device. Your eyes graze the screen, meeting an image of a cat stuffie, and possibly the most gut wrenching message you had read. Ever.
Wonwoo <3 [5:30]: This cat stuffie reminded me of you, so I bought it ,,^._.^,,
Wonwoo <3 [5:31]: Baby, at least like the message, I worked so hard on that cat emoji :(
You needed to punch something. You were dying from his cuteness, all while the word baby stirred something in your stomach. You opted to reply instead.
y/n [5:34]: ur so cute, yk that?
Wonwoo <3 [5:34] Please use real words y/n
y/n [5:34]: it's not my fault ur drier than a desert >:(
y/n [5:35]: luv u <3 ill be home soon!
You close your phone. His texting could use a little work, you thought as the voice of Seungkwan perked in your ears. You turn to the sound of his voice, watching him and Vernon sit down with their trays of food.
“You could've gotten your food earlier if you’d stop texting your man for once,” Seungkwan’s voice by the last few words grew cold and sour, just like that overpriced lemonade he sipped. Your eyes reached the stars, a tired ugh leaving your lips. “He’s working on his texting skills. Let him live, Seungkwan.”
“Ugh alright, fine.” Seungkwan tipped his head back. “You’re lucky you two are adorable.”
“Dude, weren’t you the one who wanted them together in the first-”
“Who’s side are you even on??” Seungkwan whined, to which Vernon only cocked an eyebrow. Seungkwan jabbed his shoulder, and Vernon turned his attention to you. “I’m happy for you, y/n.”
A grateful response was about to seep from your lips, however, you couldn’t help but notice a glint of worry in his eyes. You tilted your head and Vernon continued. “...I really am, but what about Mingyu?”
You steal a sip from Seungkwan’s sour lemonade, wincing. “We’re keeping it a secret for now.”
“For how long, though?” Vernon piqued, tone laced with worry. “It’s gonna be hard keeping this up for a while.”
It was as if Vernon’s words sweeped the words from your tongue. He was right. How long were you gonna really manage this? Just then another ping! pops from your side. You check it, expecting it to be another gut wrenching, dry text from your boyfriend. Instead, you receive something much, much worse.
MIDgyu [5:53]: You’re coming to the game, right?
You almost spat out the lemonade.
Wonwoo’s head was spinning in agitation, and it was for a multitude of reasons. The cheers of the crowd, the squeaks of the player’s shoes, the discombobulating boom of the buzzer, it all rattled with his entire being. And yet, what got on his nerves the most, was that he was sitting away from you.
He watched as he fiddled with his thumbs; the game didn’t really matter to him anymore. He only looked up every time Soonyoung— the one he did end up going with— hollered at a goal. It definitely wasn’t hard to notice. At least someone was ecstatic to be there. Wonwoo, however, couldn’t quite say the same.
Wonwoo knew all the reasons why you attended the game separately, and all the reasons why you couldn’t attend together. This was Mingyu’s game, your brother, and his best friend’s chance to shine. It was too risky to even step foot in that gym together. He looked over at you, sitting across the gym with your friends, laughing at something Vernon probably said. And besides, he came to cheer him on as a friend.
He knew all of that, so why did his heart hurt just a little bit?
Soonyoung glanced over, curious. “You good, man?”
Wonwoo couldn’t stop looking at you. “Yeah, for sure.”
The night was almost over.
That’s what you told yourself over and over again. The only thing that kept you sane. Panic was coursing through your veins, trying your hardest not to slip up in any way you thought possible. You loved your brother, but this was getting insane. Your sigh evolved into an irritated groan as you came back from rejecting your 20th invitation to grab a bite to eat after the game. You whip out your phone, suddenly all alone. Why did Seungkwan and Vernon have to leave already?
Just greet Mingyu and leave. You can still meet Wonwoo outside.
“Hey!” A voice ghosted your frame. You turn around stunned, but you have enough time to compose yourself before the voice continues. “Y/n, was it? Mingyu’s sister?”
You smile, eyes curling upwards to hide your anguish. “Yeah!”
The stranger stretched a hand out. “I’m Lee Chan! Nice to meet you!”
You could only hum a response before diving deep into horrid small talk. Judging by his jersey, hair soaked in sweat, and a water bottle in hand, you could tell he had just played. Your mind wanders aimlessly as you tune out his words. He didn’t seem harmless, so it didn’t really matter.
“So, I was wondering,” Chan suddenly starts, and you jolt back to reality. “Would you like to go get something to eat with me?” He jerks a thumb behind him, where your brother— and Wonwoo— sat.
Wonwoo’s frame appeared in your peripheral vision. Seeing him so far away, paying no attention to you; your heart sank just a little bit. Though, it wasn’t the physical distance that got to you, it was the reason why the distance was there.
Why did it hurt to keep it all a secret?
You smile, trying your best to let the athlete down gently. “Er, no thanks.”
“Oh come on!” Chan fought, a hand lightly gripping your wrist, though your reflexes were too slow to pull away in time. He was really starting to piss you off. “Just one date?”
Your brows furrowed. Tugging away from him, but it was no use. “I-”
“She told you her answer, didn’t she?” Another voice piqued behind you.
“Your sister’s single, right?” Chan’s voice irked Wonwoo’s ears. The athlete nudged Mingyu’s shoulder before taking a big swig from his water bottle. “I think I’m gonna ask her out!”
“Sure, buddy!” Mingyu shrugged, slapping Chan’s back before watching his teammate strut towards you. Wonwoo couldn’t help but scoff at Mingyu’s response.
A spark lit in the pit of Wonwoo’s stomach. No, you can’t ask her out, asshole. A sigh leaped from his chest, attempting to cool off the sparks popping on his skin— though it wouldn’t work. Wonwoo felt his skin burn, the blood beneath it boiling. He tapped his foot, his eyes never leaving Chan’s frame—which made its way to you so effortlessly, so shamelessly. Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to leap out of his seat and run to you.
His girlfriend.
Mingyu nudges Wonwoo’s shoulder, chuckling. “Something wrong, big guy?”
Wonwoo’s eyes grew narrow for a second, but he quickly collected himself. “All good.” He muttered with a half-assed smile. One glance at his best friend was a reminder that shot him right through the heart.
You were Wonwoo’s, but he could never prove it. He could never tell him.
“No seriously, what’s wrong? You’re quiet, yeah, but never this quiet.”
Wonwoo looked over to you, towering beneath Chan’s obnoxious one. He watched you smile at him, chuckling at a joke of his that probably wasn’t even funny. His jaw tightened, his knuckles growing white under the pressure. It was getting harder to compose himself.
Your friend’s flirting with my girlfriend in front of me, and I can’t do shit about it. That's what's wrong.
But he could never say it out loud.
Chan throws a hand on your wrist, not seeming to let go. Your eyes, painted with fear, glance at the floor. A flame ignited in Wonwoo’s stomach, steam practically seething from his ears. His hands ball up into fists. He didn’t bother to take one last glance at Mingyu before shooting up from his seat and doing what he should’ve done way before; go see you.
“What’s your problem man?” Chan’s voice echoes in the now empty gym. Under the pressure of Wonwoo’s firm grim, Chan finally lets go of your wrist. You hold it against your chest as you, habitually, stand behind Wonwoo. Chan glares at the two of you, turning to Wonwoo again. “What, are you like, her boyfriend or something?”
Your heart stung at the word boyfriend. You grew pale, unable to respond as panic washed over your face. Your heart leaped from your chest, clogging your throat. All your measly body could do was part its lips as it turned around to face Wonwoo, anticipating his answer.
His name jumped out of your throat instinctively. Wonwoo stared down at the athlete, his words leaving as a hiss. “Take the hint, already. She doesn’t wanna go out with you.”
“Alright, I get it.” Chan threw his hands up “Don’t need to get so pissed, dude.”
Your world was spinning. Fear, panic, anxiety; it all overtook you. Your mind was in multiple places at once. However, you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit grateful for Wonwoo saving your ass— you weren’t sure if this Chan guy was capable of backing down. And yet, what you felt the most was the bitter taste of guilt; guilt for making your boyfriend feel all this anguish in the first place, making him keep the two of you a secret. After darting back and forth from the athlete and your secret boyfriend, your eyes finally stay on Wonwoo.
“Next time, think before you decide to hit on someone else’s girl.”
Your eyes widened, but you had no time to relish in your emotions as Wonwoo tugs at your arm, and marches out the door.
For the rest of the day you were silent. The air was tense in your apartment. The two of you uttered little to no words during dinner, and as the sun tucked itself into its blanket of midnight sky, the two of you barely gave the other a glance. You were overwhelmed, flowing to the brim with mixed emotions. You needed just a sliver of peace.
It wasn’t until you retired back to your own bed—the first time you did so in the days you two started dating—did Wonwoo speak to you again. You whip the door open, a little faster than you expected, and Wonwoo stands before you, head hanging low. His eyes finally meet yours, and you began to melt in his clutch once again. You couldn’t stay mad at him. He scratches the nape of his neck. “Can we talk?”
The two of you resume on the edge of your bed. He keeps a safe distance, only his pinky finger innocently grazing yours. “I’m really sorry, y/n. I lashed out at that guy who didn’t know any better. My own dumb feelings got in the way, and I probably ruined the secret. You have every right to be mad at me-”
As Wonwoo rambled on and on about how he was in the wrong, your mind could only think the complete opposite. After all, you didn’t want to hide Wonwoo anymore. You simply couldn't. Jeon Wonwoo meant too much to you, swelled your heart up with joy that you couldn’t fathom hiding him in the dark. With a huff, you finally come to a conclusion; you need to tell Mingyu. It didn’t matter if you’d come out the other end dead or with a missing limb. You loved Wonwoo too much to keep him a secret. Your mind couldn’t piece together the right words, so you collect his lips in a kiss.
Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t sure why you’d forgiven him so quickly, but the sweet taste of your lips were enough for him to melt, kissing you back.
“Do you think we could stop hiding this? Hiding us?” Wonwoo asks gently as he pressed your forehead against his, his voice toasting your skin. You smile, your giggles sending butterflies to Wonwoo’s stomach. “Yeah, I think we can.”
Grinning like a fool, Wonwoo pulls you into another kiss, his weight and the momentum of his movements toppling you onto the bed. One hand cupped your cheek, while the other planted itself beside you, pinning you against the bed. Your arms cling onto his neck, toying with the tag of his shirt as Wonwoo leaned further into you, his kisses leaving your mouth and trailing down your jaw. A warm sensation clouded between your legs.
His hand left your cheek, resuming at the hem of your shirt. After playing with the fabric, a finger slipped in; and then another, until his hand ghosted your bare waist. His touch sent shockwaves through your veins. Your breaths grew shallow as Wonwoo pulled apart from you briefly, his lips meeting your ear.
“May I?” His words didn’t reach past a whisper.
Face flushed, you grip tighter onto his shoulders. “Wonwoo,” You breathed.
“That’s not an answer, darling,” Wonwoo rasped. Your head was too heated, so you only managed to nod before Wonwoo snuck both his hands under your shirt. His fingers trailed up and up your body until he reached your tits. Wonwoo’s touch sent a whimper from your lips. Wonwoo twitched, his head dipping down to trail more kissed down your neck. His hands palmed your chest, pinching at the nipple sending more shockwaves to your spine. You arch your back, his name taking up your mind.
Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo
The man taking up your mind tugged at your shirt, his eyes narrowing in hunger. You obeyed, lifting your arms as he pulled the fabric over your head. Within seconds, your pants also escaped your frame, leaving you bare, with just your panties on. Wonwoo pulls away from you, his eyes scanning your figure.
“You’re beautiful, y/n.” Wonwoo exhaled.
You pull him into another kiss, still hungry for his taste. Though it was also to hide your flustered face from his smooth words. You adjust your legs, brushing against a particular hardness tenting beneath his pants. Wonwoo groaned against your lips, setting your skin on fire. His muscles tense, and you send a teasing hand to palm his hardness. However, Wonwoo swiftly grabbed your wrist, throwing it above your head; holding you hostage.
“Not yet, darling” He grunted, eyeing you. “I’m not finished tasting you...” A hand resumed on your tit, making your squirm. “...Savouring you”
You mewl at the familiar words. He continued peppering kisses down your neck, then chest, and finally to your stomach. All while leaving bite marks here and there, claiming you. His voice rumbles against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this. About you.”
It was as if your skin was a minefield, with how much it flared up at his words. You collect yourself, turning bold. “Shall we reenact your dreams, then?”
A glint of passion suddenly flared in his eyes, his hand roaming around in search for any way to make you moan. His lips arrive at your chest, and a hand grips onto your breast, lewd noises escaping your lips. You grip at his hair, which only fanned the fire as the other hand— which was already stationed between your legs— began to move. You didn’t even know when you had opened your legs.
Your core was much more than warm at this point. It was hot, steamy, pounding. But you couldn’t acknowledge it, not with your head spinning. Wonwoo’s fingers pressed further into you, playing with your folds through the fabric of your panties. Wonwoo chuckled. “You’re soaking, y/n.” He hooked his finger onto the fabric, pulling it aside in one swoop. He hissed. “And it’s all mine.”
One last whimper sent him flying off the edge. Ripping off your panties, Wonwoo slipped a finger into your folds. Your wetness sloshing between his fingertips. You let out a moan, biting your own fingers to contain the sound. Your head was spiralling, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Wonwoo was hitting all the right spots. Dirty noises began to bounce on the room’s walls as Wonwoo's fingers dug deeper into yours. He slipped another one in, spreading your core apart. You gripped the bed sheets, your hips gaining a mind of their own as they began to ride his fingers.
“My darling is so needy.” Wonwoo growled against your ear, making you shiver. His pace grew faster as your noises grew louder. With the pad of his thumb, he circled around your clit. You arched, the knot in your stomach tightening with each thrust of his hand. Your lips reached his jaw, peppering sloppy kisses on his skin. Anything to hold you down to reality. Wonwoo kissed your temple. “That’s it, darling. Cum on me.”
And you did. Your juices flowed out of your core, coating his palm. He brought his hand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he licked his palm clean; the reason why the warmth beneath your stomach never truly left.
Panting, you finally gain the strength to scan his frame, which was still fully clothed— much to your dismay. Your hands fly at his shirt’s hem. With his help, you pull it off, exposing his toned chest. You wanted to gawk, but you couldn’t bear to wait any longer. The thirst penetrating your core was killing you.
Impatient fingers tug at his pants— the tent beneath its fabric never leaving your sight. You wanted him, no, needed him in you. Wonwoo caught wind of your yearning stare, smiling as he unbuckled his pants. With one last kiss, he presses his forehead against yours. His voice reached back to a whisper. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”
You whimper, your sound driving Wonwoo crazy. “I need you, Wonwoo. I need you in me.”
Without thinking, your hips grind your raw core against his underwear’s fabric. Now, Wonwoo was the one filling the room with his groans. You felt his dick twitch beneath the fabric as he reached forward, getting a condom. A string of curses leave his lips as you smile at the realization that he was breaking his composure because of you. Opening the silver packaging, Wonwoo pulls his cock out, your breath hitching.
You gaped at his size, eyes darting between his head and his, well, head. Wonwoo’s fingers ghosted your core once again, sending more shivers down your skin. With the plastic coating it, Wonwoo lines up his dick in between your folds, the contact igniting a flame that never went out to begin with. “Are you sure you want this, princess? We could always-”
“Wonwoo, I need you to fuck me right now or so help me god.” You blurted out, catching both you and your boyfriend off guard. He smiles, kissing the knuckles of your hand, making your stomach flutter. “As you wish, princess.”
Wonwoo finally thrusted into you, his girth grazing every inch of your walls. Your back arched, a moan bursting from your lungs. Wonwoo’s groans filled your ears with each— painfully slow —thrust. Your walls clamped onto his cock, holding him so well. His thrusts grew faster, a hand dipping down to your core, while another hand landed back on your breast. He fondled your nipple, which peaked from arousal— a sight that made Wonwoo twitch in your core. His other hand began slow circles on your clit once again, and you were convinced you were seeing stars.
Sounds of wet sloshes echoed, but they were no match for your booming noises and callings of each other’s names. Your nails dug deeper into his back, as Wonwoo’s thrusts grew more sloppy. He dug his dick further into you, making you squirm.
“I think I’m gonna-” You couldn’t bother to finish.
“I know, darling. Let’s come together, hm?”
Another mewl escapes. You hated how respectful he was.
Wonwoo thrusts one last time, and the two of you reach your climaxes. White fluid pools between your legs, and Wonwoo pulls out. Breathless, he pulls out before plopping beside you on the bed. Finally getting a chance to breathe, you look over to him, smiling. “Woah.”
Wonwoo snickers. “Really? Woah? That’s what you’re going with?”
You punch his shoulder, though it was too weak for him to even notice. “Hey! Don't blame me, I can’t think straight! Someone just fucked my brains out, cut me some slack!”
Wonwoo pulls you in for a hug. “I love you, y/n.”
You smile against his chest. “I love you more, Wonnie.”
“Care to explain?” The voice of your brother echoed in your apartment living room the next morning. You and Wonwoo sat in front of the aggravated Kim Mingyu, who had just found out the truth after his teammate spilled the beans at practice earlier that morning. Your exact fear was accumulating in front of your eyes. You hated to admit it, but you missed your cheerful brother. He was loads better than this new, grumpy Mingyu.
“Just sit down, okay? I’ll explain everything!” You flare up, catching the guy’s attention. Slowly, Mingyu inches down, until he reaches your eye level. “Yes, Wonwoo and I have been dating for some time now-”
“Why didn’t you guys tell me? Why’d you have to keep it a secret?”
You heaved a sigh and Wonwoo took over. “‘Cause we knew you’d react just like this. I know its wrong to date your sister just because we’re friends, but…”
Wonwoo glances back at you. “I love her too much.”
He turns his attention back to your brother, who was suddenly quiet. “I’m not willing to give her up anymore. So, if you’re unhappy with us, I don’t know what to tell you.”
The room goes quiet, you and Mingyu both stunned at Wonwoo’s confession. Mingyu looks at the both of you before letting out a sigh. He then turns to you. “Look, I admit, this’ll take some getting used to, but if you’re that serious about each other then… I guess I can learn to live with it. Just, no more secrets, okay?”
Your face brightens immediately, jumping towards your now non-secret boyfriend. You grew ecstatic, jumping for joy like a little kid. You turn to your brother, grinning like crazy.
Mingyu couldn’t help but grin at the sight of you. He turns to Wonwoo, jabbing a finger at him. “I know you’re my best friend, but if you ever try to hurt her, I will end you. Got it?”
Wonwoo glances down at you, curled perfectly in his arms. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
5K notes · View notes
dark-vader28 · 3 months
Text
New Girl
pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader
summary: Reader and her family are new in town, the heffleys invite them over for dinner as a welcome, blah blah blah, rodrick offers to give reader a drum lesson and makes a fool of himself doing everything in his power to impress you
warnings: swearing? tooth-rotting fluff. pls this is my first fic so im sorry if this is terrible, not rlly proofread
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Your family had just moved in to Plainview, settled in a cozy home on the corner of the street. Once summer ended, you’d attend Crossland High School as a senior while your younger brother, Jake, would be starting 7th grade at Westmore Middle School. You dreaded school, even in the years you lived in your hometown, surrounded by your friends. Now that you were the new girl, you were sure it’d be all the more worse.
Your younger brother, Jake, on the other hand, made company so easy and made it seem like starting a conversation was as easy as knowing your own name. Sure, he wasn’t very popular, but he never went a year without a new friend or even a whole new group. You were sure he’d already be making friends on the walk to school.
While you were staring at your packed bag that you refused to unpack, in denial that your family had really moved, when the doorbell rang, echoing through the still house. Your attention was diverted and you snuck out your room, quietly walking to the railing by the stairs where you could have a clear view of the front door. You crouched down, hoping you wouldn’t be seen as you watched your mother strut to the door. The door swung open and there was a friendly smile waiting behind, holding some tupperware in her arms.
You were watching and listening, hardly moving or even breathing as they talked. The woman at the door, whose name you heard was Susan Heffley, was welcoming your family to Plainview. You heard them suggest a dinner this weekend so they could meet each other’s families; your mother had mentioned yours and your brother’s age which coincidentally were the same as the Heffleys. You let out a groan as your mom agreed to the dinner.
Mrs. Heffley left a few moments later, wishing your mother another welcome with a gentle smile before walking out the door. Surely she seemed nice but having to attend to dinner with a family you didn’t know was a long dreaded thought of yours.
The rest of the week seemed to go slow as you anticipated the inevitable dinner. You were also attempting to accept the fact that you were truly stuck in Plainview now unless you decided to move out and away when you turned 18, but you knew the thought was pointless considering it meant you’d have to be prepared by then.
When Saturday rolled around, you had finally unpacked your bag, trying to be a little more positive about living here. But that was a lie. Truth was your mom hounded you about living out of a suitcase and told you off for not unpacking. Not wanting to get in any more trouble, you hurriedly unpacked that night, throwing a pair of jeans and some shirt on your bed in the process for you to wear to dinner.
It was 5:50 and you were scrambling to finish up the last of your makeup and hair. If there was one thing your dad hated, it was being late, and you would likely be the cause of it. You had postponed getting ready for so long, procrastinating until there were few minutes to spare. You weren’t sure why you cared so much about your appearance, assuming that you would never talk to that family after tonight.
Jake’s fist pounded on your bathroom door, causing you to jump from the unexpected burst of noise. You nearly burnt yourself with the straightener you were holding. You quickly set it down and swung the door open. You were ready to scold your younger brother but he spoke before you.
“Mom and Dad said we’re leaving now, why aren’t you ready?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away from the door, closing it.
“Just one more minute!” you shouted from the other side of the door. He knocked on the door a few more times and when you refused to answer, he gave up, grumbling something under his breath as he ran down the stairs.
A minute turned into two, then three, and then it was 5:59 and your dad was knocking on the door. You turned off the straightener and unplugged it, checking your reflection one last time before hurrying out the bathroom.
Considering how close your houses were, your family walked to the Heffley’s house. Right before the clock turned 6:01, your family was at the door, ringing the bell. You heard a few hushed murmurs from the other side of the door before the same familiar face that had come to your house before swung open the door.
Mrs. Heffley welcomed you in, closing the door behind you. A man, who you could only assume was Mr. Heffley, stood next to Mrs. Heffley, extending out a hand towards your father, then your mother.
“Frank Heffley,” the man introduced, smiling politely. He shook your hand and then Jake’s as Mrs. Heffley introduced herself and the littlest brother, Manny, that she held in her arms.
Then, bounding down the stairs comes a boy, somewhere between 11-13. He comes to a stop next to Mrs. Heffley and wears a nervous smile.
“And his is my second eldest son, Greg,” Mrs. Heffley beams. One after another, you all shake his hand, introducing yourselves. “Greg, you and Jake are both in seventh grade so maybe you’ll make good friends,” Mrs. Heffley comments. Jake smiles a little and Greg is hesitant to return the smile, unsure if he likes your brother.
Mrs. Heffley turns to Greg, whispering something private to him while your father exchanges pleasantries with his father, earning a warm smile from your mother. Greg shrugged at whatever Mrs. Heffley had said to him and she frowned.
It wasn’t long before another set of footsteps came running down the steps, this time a tall boy with dark, messed and fluffed up hair, wearing some graphic tee tucked only in the front behind a pair of dark jeans. He looked your age and from the conversation you had overheard earlier that week, you knew he was your age. But… what did that matter? You had no intent on talking to this family again.
“And this is Rodrick,” Mrs. Heffley introduced, not sounding nearly as enthusiastic as she had been when introducing Greg and Manny. The smile she wore seemed fake as she glared and Rodrick and nudged him. He looked confused, shooting her a look before he noticed my father’s outstretched hand. He shook my parents’ hands as we were all introduced once more, thankfully for the last time. You seemed to catch Rodrick’s eye, and your name was the only one he seemed to remember. He repeated your name in his head, making sure it stuck in his memory. The other names faded from his mind as your families walked to the dining table. A few extra chairs had been added to fit your family, which sat on one side as the Heffley family sat on the other. You faced Rodrick with Jake on your right and your mother on your left. This was already the longest evening of your time in Plainview.
Mrs. Heffley was bringing a plate of food as your fathers chatted away. Rodrick, Greg, and Jake were quick to pile heaping amounts onto their plates. You were the last to go for food, not expecting to eat much since you didn’t have much of an appetite that night.
The parent side of the table was lively, laughter filling the air while it was nothing but the tap or light scrape of the metal forks against the plate on your side of the table. Jake didn’t seem to mind, happily eating away at his food, nearly to the point of asking for seconds. You had picked at the homemade food, taking a few bites ever so often. It smelt amazing, almost giving you your appetite back.
But the worst part of the night wasn’t how they were strangers you were having dinner with, or how empty and silent your half of the table was, but rather how you kept finding Rodrick’s eyes. They were awkward glances where you’d both be caught looking at one another and you’d both avert your gaze as quickly as it had been found. It kickstarted your heart every time, sending a wave of embarrassment flooding through you which was shown through in the heat rising to your face. You were praying someone on your end of the table would feel the silence and ease the tension but with every glance you and Rodrick stole, the atmosphere felt heavier.
The buzz from the other side of the table faded, leaving a few painful moments of entire silence before your dad spoke, speaking to Rodrick this time.
“Was that your van outside?” your dad inquired, hoping to spark up a conversation after noticing the deafening silence.
Rodrick stole another look at you on his way to address your father. He nodded, shifting in his seat a little. The silence was beginning to make its dreaded reappearance and in a desperate attempt to prevent it, you foolishly decided to keep the conversation rolling.
“What’s the name painted on it?” you asked, and Rodrick’s eyes had quickly fallen away from your father to meet you.
“Löded Diper, the name of my band,” Rodrick replied proudly. You attempted to repress a smile. The name was ridiculous and it had you holding back a laugh but something about the confidence and the happiness in his tone made you forget the name and brought a grin to your lips.
“A band, huh? What do you play?” you questioned, shifting in your seat, leaning forward so your attention was nowhere but him. His lips curved up into a smile as his movement mimicked yours, facing you. You could see Susan and your mom smile at each other, gushing at how suddenly you and Rodrick were getting along.
“Drums,” he answered, and the other conversations resumed from the parent side of the table. Greg and Jake were silently watching you and Rodrick talk, both shocked that you had even acknowledged him. Jake knew you weren’t one to engage like this upon first meeting someone, especially not with someone like Rodrick. And Greg was sure you were way out of Rodrick’s league, whether it was from a relationship or even friendship standpoint. Greg and Jake seemed to read each other’s minds and started talking, filling the once silent half of the room with chatter.
“I always wanted to learn drums,” you commented sheepishly, breaking the eye contact you had been holding. He seemed to light up at that, sitting up a little taller.
“I could teach you,” he blurted out, rather loudly. Everyone seemed to glance at him for a moment before ignoring it and resuming their conversations. You found his gaze again and a smile crept on your lips.
“Really?” you asked. He nodded, and your smile curved into a smirk. “Well, of course, you’d have to been good at drums to teach somebody. Prove you’re any good and maybe then you can teach me.” He paused for a moment before he chuckled, leaning back in his chair as his once awkward demeanor became cocky.
“No no no, i’d be doing you a favour. And i don’t need to prove anything. I’m a great drummer. Right, Greg?” Rodrick asked, hitting Greg on the chest. Greg hadn’t been paying attention but held his chest where he had been hit as he nodded, agreeing to whatever Rodrick had asked. “See?” You rolled your eyes, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth to hide your smile.
“The poor kid is terrified of you,” you chuckled. You turned to Greg this time. “Don’t take any of his shit.” Greg smiled brightly and Rodrick seemed flustered that you hadn’t taken his side.
“Oh, come on, I’ve never done anything to him,” Rodrick defended. He wasn’t a great liar. You glanced at Rodrick before looking back at Greg, raising your eyebrows.
“Is he telling the truth?” you asked. Greg shot a look at Rodrick before laughing and shaking his head. You giggled. Rodrick’s face was turning red and he shoved Greg again.
“Dude! Deny, deny, deny!” Rodrick pestered, pushing Greg. Another laughter escaped your lips.
“So you admit you were lying!” Rodrick froze, his face dropping.
With the exception of Rod, your side of the table was in a fit of laughter. The other side had stilled, admiring how well you seemed to be getting along despite Rodrick being the butt of the joke. He’d felt embarrassed for a moment but hearing your laughter had a bright grin spreading across his face which eventually broke out into laughter. Your stomach and face started to hurt from laughing for too long and you let a few desperate pants as you leaned back in your seat, arms wrapped around your stomach.
Over an hour had passed and your families couldn’t have been getting along better. Greg and Rodrick had told you endless amounts of stories. You learned about The Cheese Touch and the thought of it made you gag, imagining that moldy cheese sitting on the dirty hot blacktop for years.
You asked Rodrick about his band, which he went on and on about until Greg told him to can it. Rodrick might’ve hit him again if Mrs. Heffley hadn’t glanced over at them and scolded Rodrick.
Nearing the end of your time with the Heffleys, you hesitantly asked Rodrick if he was serious about the drum lesson. Sure, your reason was purely because you had always wanted to learn how to play but it seemed as the night went on, your reason was slipping to wanting to see Rodrick again. You didn’t want to have to wait until summer’s end to be with him. He didn’t seem like the greatest influence and you were already sure your parents weren’t too fond of him, but something about him had you drawn towards him like a moth to light.
The Heffleys were escorting your family to the door, chatter still in the air, when you turned to Rodrick. You swallowed the lump in your throat and prayed your voice would come out normal.
“So… about that drum lesson,” you started, not meeting his eyes, but you still saw the smile tug at the corner of his lips.
“Tomorrow?” he suggested quickly, stopping to face you. You looked up, your brow slightly furrowed. “O-or another day. I mean-” He was blabbering, trying not to sound eager or desperate and a grin stretched across your lips.
“Tomorrow sounds great,” you replied. He relaxed, smiling a little.
“Yeah, yeah, cool,” he mumbled, pretending to sound uninterested. You pushed him gently and he couldn’t hide the smile. You rolled your eyes at him, a light laugh falling from your lips. That sound would be stuck in his brain all night as he lied awake, admiring you and feeling like he had dreamed you up cause he wasn’t sure someone like you could be real.
Your family said their goodbyes to the Heffleys as the four of you walked out the door. You headed home, unable to lose the smile of excitement as you thought about your plans for tomorrow. You were so distracted in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your parents talking to you until your brother nudged you to snap you out of your daze.
“Are you alright?” your mom asked worriedly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a smile and nodded. “Well, how was your night then? Did you like them?” Then to your father, “I thought they were nice, don’t you think?” Then back to you. “How was Rodrick? I was a little worried he was a bad influence.” If you hadn’t stepped in, your mom might’ve pestered with you questions until the end of the night.
“It was fun. I had a good time,” you reassured. She smiled as you reached your front steps.
When you finally got back to your room, you reveled in the once dreaded house that seemed like a punishment. You were now filled with anticipation, wishing it would be Sunday already so you’d get to see Rodrick again. Your mind hadn’t decided what was so endearing about him. Maybe it was his desperate, miserable attempts to impress you that made you nearly giggle like a school girl or his dark shaggy hair that fell in messy strands. But you didn’t let yourself think about that for too long, saving yourself from falling down that rabbit hole.
As the cool air from your open window filled the room and the pale moonlight danced across your skin, you were coaxed into sleep, smiling as you thought about your night.
Maybe Plainview wasn’t as bad as you had believed it to be.
————————————————————————————
a/n: well… first fic ig. i’m sorry if this is complete shit. i just felt like i should post something after having this account for 6 months and posting nothing. there are a few requests in my inbox that i do intend on getting to at some point i promise, im just a little slow with all of this 😭 let me know what you think and if you want more of these!
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the-blue-fairie · 5 months
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Art by @shes-an-iso – commissioned by me and posted here with permission
Realization.
It is ten years ago and I am watching Frozen.
It is ten years ago and I am watching Elsa transform herself into her truest self, watching her spin threads of blue around herself, seizing power for herself – radical self-actualization.
The glint of Elsa’s ice dress reflects in my eyes as I watch Elsa strut into the sunlight – and I do not have words for why I am so moved.
I do not have words, but the shimmer stays.
It is ten years ago and I am choosing to become a part of the Frozen fandom.
I have lurked in fandom circles before, but never posted a thing, never made an account.
It is my first time being part of an online fan community – and, as awful as fandoms can be at times, this fandom – for me – ten years ago – is truly a community.
I begin to make friends in the Frozen fandom.
Some of these friends are trans.
The gleam of Elsa’s hair in the rose-gold dawn shines again in my eyes, and shyly, I begin asking questions of my friends.
Realization is nothing without the words to process it – and my friends give me words, my friends help me to understand.
I am a trans woman.
It is in this online space that I first take the name Liza for myself, since this online space is the only place that I can allow myself to be.
I build for myself. My blog is my own ice palace. What I cannot sculpt in daily life, I carve within online spaces – offering my writing, my thoughts, my edits, my soul to the world.
Everyone here knows me as Liza.
Even as I’m in the closet to my family for years, in here, I am Liza. My friends know me as I am, and as Liza is all they will ever know me.
But I am in the closet. For years.
(It’s why Do You Want to Build a Snowman still breaks me.)
In the closet more out of some misplaced sense of duty to my family than out of dread, though I am scared. Always scared. And then in the closet because I feel it’s better if I bury this. Not better for me, but for them. If I’m bleeding inside, it doesn’t matter. I can put on a show. I have fine-woven gloves. Well-taught decorum. Be the good girl you always have to be, etc.
(Maybe it’s my fault I’m in the closet for years. Anons on this site have told me that in the past. I don’t have it as bad as others in the closet, I’m just a coward, the fault is mine, the fault is mine…)
Fuck off.
(People blame Elsa for the thirteen years in the same way, placing the blame on her and not the tutelage that trained her, because her parents loved her, you see, and love becomes a convenient means of shifting blame to the victim.)
In June 2016, after the Pulse shooting, I make a post about how I’m never going to come out. I am terrified, heartbroken, mangled by grief – but my friends are there for me. My friends send me messages of support, of compassion.
I still cherish the memory of those.
Years pass. When I finally come out to my father, I can barely say the words, barely look him in the eye.
It is ten years since Frozen and I have come out to my family – far too late. I have been on HRT more than a year now.
(My dad still misgenders me when he thinks I’m out of earshot. He resents when I get frustrated with him over this.)
It is ten years since Frozen and I am Elsa on the North Mountain, staring into the whirlwind of an uncertain future, defiant and scared.
And I know – I know – that I didn’t process I was trans because of the film – it was because of the friendship of fellow trans people, trans people who happened to be Frozen fans a decade ago – but my journey of self-realization, my time in the closet, my creation of a sense of self, are so entwined with memories of Frozen that I can’t help but think of it when thinking about my own transition…
Can’t help but think of Elsa, hips swaying, arms outstretched, flashing, radiant –
Happy tenth anniversary, Frozen.
And thank you. Thank you.
(This is okay to reblog. In fact, please do. It is a sliver of my soul that I offer to the world.)
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t1ts-4-scattorcio · 8 months
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nat who basically lives at your house bc of her home life
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Natalie moves into your house after being abused: Natalie Scatorccio x Reader Blurb + Headcanons
TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, homophobia, self-destructive tendencies!
_____
Footsteps padded across the wooden floor strutting up to your side of the bed. You place your book on your dresser, meeting Natalie’s face. “How was your shower? I know you were tired after practice.” “It was ok,” she hummed “It would’ve been better if you were with me though.” she winked raising her eyebrow.
“Maybe next time” you giggled looking into her eyes.
You reach to grab her hand. “Kiss please?” you pout. She laughs at your antics leaning down to meet your mouth, it was soft and slowly began to deepen, breathing her in. Your hand reaches the back of her neck pulling her closer until she was hovering over you, both landing back in the softness of your pillows.
she moves to kiss your cheeks down your neck, a soft moan leaves your lips and you feel her smile against you. She pulls back pressing one more kiss breathless.
“Thank you for letting me be here, seriously” her face hardened. 
Your gaze softened “of course babe,” tucking her blonde locks back, “I just..” she stammered, “it was really bad, like.. I think I would be dead by now if it weren’t for you.” closing her eyes, “he hated me so much and my mom didn’t do shit,” her voice tightened shaking her head willing the terrible scenarios from her mind. 
You felt nauseous thinking about how terrible things were before, seeing bruises littered across her body while changing in the locker room, her once bright blue eyes slowly dull becoming more vacant after each passing day. Watching her get high under the bleachers before running to class just to help her get through the day. 
Tears filled your eyes. “Look at me,” cupping and caressing her blochy pink cheeks, she opened her eyes, red with unshed tears. “I wouldn’t have it any other way Nat, I want you forever” you whispered. A watery laugh escaped her. 
Your arms reach around her waist pulling her onto you, a comforting silence settled in the room.
Running your hands up her spine, an idea popped into your head, and a chuckle echoed through your chest, Nat sat up straddling you with a confused expression on her face. “What do you think you’re doing y/n?” eyebrows furrowing. You smirk and brace around her tightly, she gasps in surprise cackling as you blow raspberries into her neck. 
---
You guys had to hide your relationship from her dad because he would kill you if he found out so you are only 100% besties around him and most people.
He sees you with his daughter and doesn’t know how to feel when you’re around as long as you stay out of his way he’s ok with it.
The first inklings that she had to move in with you were when she got drunk or high to the point where she's barely coherent it's scary to see, but it helps her numb her pain. It's very rare and you know her life at home is bad when she does start to spiral like that
The final straw was when Nat had snuck into your window covered in bruises, you held her in your arms that night, she eventually tired herself out from sobbing so hard. You promised yourself that she'd never ever be in that situation again. You helped hide the marks with foundation in the morning.
Your parents supported your relationship and respected that you both wanted it to be kind of a secret, she let her move into the spare room, bought her extra clothes if she needed them, and supported her as much as they supported you.
She got along so well with your parents, sometimes you'd find Nat sitting on the couch with your dad watching soccer matches with beers in their hands. She would help with chores without being told to do so, she didn't want to leech off of you. Even though they'd insist she relax at home.
She loves the privacy she has at your home. You give her the space she wants if she needs it and she feels at ease knowing her dad won't barge in her room any second.
She's so grateful for you <3 she doesn't have to walk on eggshells anymore or hide bruises with layers of clothes and makeup, she gets to show how much she loves you openly without any fear. she can finally be herself.
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malebodyexhibit · 1 year
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Getting in the Action (a Next Door Boy tale)
'Never meet your heroes' is how that saying goes, but for me it should be, 'never become your hero.'
I first saw my hero on the big screen when I was in fourth grade. He was the coolest thing ever! There was a movie where he was a pilot and pulled off cool stunts in planes. My dad and I idolized him. He was the one who dragged me to the movie. It became his way to get me to do things, like "Tom always eats his vegetables" or "I doubt Tom failed his Math class." And, being the idiot I was, I obeyed.
The movie star’s influence steered my life to places I never thought I'd go. I got into weight lifting, because in all his movies, he always had that shirtless scene to hammer in the point that he was a man's man. That is what men should be. I bought a fitness magazine after I watched that movie where he has sex with his girlfriend and he strutted around his apartment naked. I wanted to be like that (confident in my own skin), so I studied the magazine and used my father's dumbbells. When I reached high school, I had washboard abs and biceps the size of grapefruits.
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And sure, I was built like a linebacker, but I didn't enjoy sports. Of course I valued athleticism, but I also wanted to be an actor. I tried out for roles in Drama class and mostly got them for my good looks and body, but I really put in effort. It wasn't until we started rehearsing for Shakespeare's "The Tempest" that I started to appreciate the sounds and art of classical theatre. So in English I found a new joy. My dreams shifted from action movie star to a classical theatre. I really wanted to impress my hero that I was making something of myself for him.
Then the Next Door Boy craze happened. I'm sure you already know what happened. The debauchery and scandals. Yet, when it calmed, the benevolent acts stood out. People who lost out on life got a second chance. And then Tom announced something truly amazing:
"Hello, everyone. So many of you are my fans and have been since I was on the big screens almost half a century ago. No doubt I've gotten old. Seeing my gray hair is always a shock. But many of you suggested that I continue my legacy and through the efforts of Next Door Boy, I can. I won't just accept anyone. I want to only accept the biggest fan of mine. I want to take you with me to the stars in show business. So, fill out the application, send in those photos, and let's make something together."
The news was shocking. I could be him. He could be in me. We could share a future together. So of course I applied. I had my dad shoot the photos of me. He was over the moon. Anything for our hero.
And I was chosen. I couldn't breathe when I heard the news. The rest blurred in a rush of euphoria. I was seated in a chair at Next Door Boy as the agent went over the details. I was to be Tom’s body and I would still exist, but I wouldn't have control over anything; I would ride backseat in my mind. Do you accept?
"Yes," I said. Those were my last words spoken by my mouth by me.
---
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"Tell me how much you like it when I do this," Tom whispered as he pulled my shirt over his nipple. He ran his hand over what used to be my stomach.
"Stop, please," I whimpered. I could only communicate in our shared mind. It had been a couple months since the procedure and since then, Tom has been using my body for his sexual gratification. I know he isn't even gay. He just likes tormenting me.
"I don't think so," he taunted. He stuck a finger in his mouth and gave a soft moan. As he pulled it out, a trail of spittle followed. He reached around our back and I felt the push against our tight hole. In a rush, he plunged it in. A sudden ache hit us and he moaned while I screamed, "stop!" He drove it in and out. He buckled over the restroom counter and continued to go knuckles deep. Finally, he pulled out the digit and wiped it on my six pack. "Well, that's enough for now. I don't want to make you too loose. I want this body to last a few years."
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He jumped in the shower then got dressed. Around my parents he was a model son. Even though they know he wasn't me, but some middle aged action star, they still treated him like me.
"There's my boy!" My dad said and he stood to hug my body. My body hugged him back and my father beamed at us. He took my face in his hands and said, "have fun out there."
"Don't worry, dad. I will!" Tom said from my mouth. He was beaming his innocent smile. "Hey, mom. I have to fly to a studio today. We're starting on the set of a new movie. Could you pack me lunch?"
"Of course, dear. That sounds fun!" My mother smiled and went to prepare something in the kitchen.
"So how is it being the action hero?" Dad asked. I couldn't tell who he was asking. It seemed my parents believed I was still in control or that it was a mix of both. But no. It was always Tom.
I remember waking up from the procedure and seeing myself, unable to move or speak. I watched as he ran my hands over my arms and chest. I watched him flex in my body.
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I felt how aroused he was getting from checking out my body. "God damn, boy," he said, "you're a snack." If it wasn't for health regulations, I'm sure he'd whip out our cock then and jerk off. But instead, he waited for the public restroom in the hallway. Since then, he tortures me by treating my body like a dildo or a fleshlight. It wasn't useful unless it was pounding or being pounded at both ends.
"It's pretty good. Let me tell you about the movie I'm shooting." Tom_ said, "It's about a college student, me, who has to fight off bank robbers and saves the day. It takes place in Vegas."
"That sounds cool," my dad said. "Remember, don't drink. You might be an action star, but you're still my son."
The man in my body smiled. "Of course."
We left the house and walked toward a limo waiting for us at the curb.
"It was a lie," he said now that we were alone.
"What?" I asked.
"There is a movie, but it's not one where the hero wins. He tries fighting the robbers and finds himself facedown in his own piss. He's then stripped and finds out how much loves a dicking and giving head."
"It's a porno?!" I screamed incredulously. "You can't make me do that! That's disgusting and I'm not gay!"
"It doesn't matter if you're gay. I already set up something with a studio. They're wanting a few hundred movies of us, well me in you. They like your body, and I do too, especially when it's a cheap slut for cock."  He smiled, flashing the driver a toothy grin. His signature boyish charm displayed on my face.
"You're supposed to make me famous," I cried. The promise of his echoing in my head.
"And I will make you famous. There will be no gay man alive who wouldn't have seen take a couple dicks. I will make you a household name in the porn industry. I will wear out your hole and it so you can't pretend you're a straight virgin."
"Please, stop," I begged, uselessly. I watched as he pulled a beer out from a cooler. He twisted off the cap and chugged the bottle. Since he was in my body, he drank incessantly and ate passionately. He rarely maintained my exercise and I feared my fit body would slip away.
"Why should I? What's the point of working out when I can just get another teen like you desperate for fame? I'll know it's time to leave your body when I can't see my toes and I can't get a good fuck. You can have your body back when that happens." He said as he opened a second bottle of beer. He was already unbuckling his belt to relieve himself of the strain. I cried in the unfeeling void of his mind.
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kedsandtubesocks · 2 months
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baseball spring training started & I miss Gojo so here we are lol, this is dedicated to @stellamancer @seiwas & @vigilante-izuku for always supporting my baseball Gojo brainrot, love you babes
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01: change-up.
baseball player!gojo x reader
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The weather is gorgeous.
“A wonderful day for baseball,” the lady checking your bag into the stadium even grinned when she told you that.
You don’t know baseball. Didn’t even know spring training was a thing. Yet with the amount of fans in the smaller stadium, and the cluster of photographers and news reporters lining the media area, you could’ve sworn this is a regular game.
And it’s all because of one man, the same man you met at a coffee shop.
Satoru Gojo - born on December 7 1989.
Thankfully you didn’t have to stare at the wiki page for long because every sports outlet online happily was ready to tell you more about him.
He’s considered a once in a lifetime player. He hit a home run once where the ball busted out of the Tokyo Dome. He broke a pitching record his first season in Japan’s Major leagues. He has one of the highest batting averages a pitcher can have.
As a pitcher you learn he is known for his notorious changeup.
It’s a type of pitch that relies on deception, tricks a player into believing a fast pitch approaches only for the ball to change speed and throw off the batter. You can’t wrap your mind around a ball even being able to do that.
But you couldn’t help but think how it fits Gojo. This seemingly way too tall and annoyingly charming guy turns out to be an absolute mega star of an athlete doesn’t feel real.
Because now here you are at a baseball spring training game not even knowing a single clue about the sport.
Currently waiting for the game to start, you scroll through the ESPN page and accidentally press a video attached to his section. It starts up a recent interview of him at a talk show. The sigh of him in a sleek gorgeous deep navy suit that brings out his eyes has you memorized. Then hearing him talk, hearing him laugh through your phone breaks the spell.
You quickly scramble out of the article, click away all open tabs, even clear your history and wonder if you should maybe just leave.
He did beg you to come see him, but how would he even know if you came…
That’s when the team line ups are called.
In the 00 jersey, batting second and not pitching this game, the announcement of Satoru Gojo’s name makes the crowd erupt in a frenzy shocking you.
A kid behind you, with absolute adoration in his voice, excitedly tells his dad how amazing Gojo is and how this year their team had to make it to the championship because of him.
Your eyes zone in on the man constantly trying to pay for your coffee shop order.
He even paid the poor barista to make a messy baseball sugar cookie with a sad face on it as an apology for you.
Now he struts onto the field drawing all the attention to him, yours included. It’s unfair how handsome Gojo looks in the uniform that highlights his tall frame and broad shoulders. He also wears sleek sunglasses that block his eyes.
Once on the line with the rest of his teammates, Gojo wearing the most charming smile takes off his hat and nods his head ever so slightly to the reception given to him. His face turns to skim the crowd in front of him, smiling and waving at everyone.
That is until he spots you.
You feel caught red handed and your heart hammers inside your chest so rapidly.
Suddenly Gojo slides his sunglasses down and blatantly stares at you. You regret sitting so close in the arena because now his twinkling sky blue eyes refuse to let his gaze leave yours.
Then, with the most amused grin, he winks at you and slides his glasses back on.
You’re horrified, almost squawk, and think about walking to sit on the opposing team’s side. But it’s because of all the nasty butterflies trying to infest your stomach.
Whatever was on your face, whatever reaction you made, suddenly has Gojo laughing.
It’s a bright thing he tries covering up by coughing, but you saw it. Even his teammate standing beside him notices.
Even with gorgeous weather, the wonderful energy of the crowd so eager for the game to start… watching Gojo, finally taking in this new reality in, feels like something dangerous is starting to brew in your chest.
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writing-bakugo · 1 year
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When You Know, You Know ~ Katsuki Bakugo
You experience a ton of firsts with Bakugo...including the moment you realized you wanted to marry him.
Warnings: self-conscious reader, Mitsuki does't like the reader
You? Yeah, you didn’t do change well. Back in high school, the first week of the semester you were often found in the bathroom puking up lunch. Something about change in the routine made your hairs stick up on your arms and your stomach eject its contents. 
You were dating for a week when Bakugo asked you to spend the weekend at his family’s home. Of course, you’d known Bakugo since freshman year in high school, but the sudden jump from giddy good morning text messages now that you were dating to “my shitty dad’s throwing a work party for my mom. On Saturday” was jarring. 
You didn’t know what to do. The thought made your mouth and throat hot and your head pale and sweaty. So, all week you interrogated your friends. Kirishima was first, obviously. 
“But like we haven’t been dating for long, Ei. Going to his parents? That's a big step...that's like you date for a year and then...you know?”
“He probably didn’t even think about it like that. It’s fine.”
Kaminari said, “yeah he’s an idiot. Don’t go. It’s only been a week.”
Then there was “OH MY GOSH! You HAVE to go” Mina. 
Thursday night arrived before you knew it. You gulped and decided to confess your anxiety to Bakugo. 
“That’s something extras care about,” Bakugo said. 
“I guess…” When it came to comfort, your boyfriend wasn’t exactly…tuned in. “I just—“
“Relax,” he huffed, “it’s only weird if you make it weird. My family isn't the kind of family to sweat that shit.”
Somehow the way his eyes were soft and pleading made you agree. Which is how you found yourself standing outside of Bakugo’s childhood home the next night with a backpack slung over your shoulder. 
“Katsuki brought a girl?!” Mitsuki couldn’t believe her eyes. Her son had a girlfriend?! And didn’t mention anything?! “Where’s Kirishima?”
“Who cares,” Bakugo huffed. He dragged you upstairs to his childhood room and you couldn’t help but giggle at the three All Might figurines sitting on his desk. 
“Who didn’t love All Might?” You asked aloud before the door slammed open. 
Mitsuki stood in a fit of steam and yelled, “I’m taking her, Katsuki!”
“Like hell you are, hag!” Bakugo yelled right back. 
But you found yourself standing in a spare room. It was large. Fabric strewn everywhere and clothes hung on racks. You didn't know what to say to Mitsuki, so you responded robotically with one-word answers.
Mitsuki wasn't impressed.
“It’s a work party,” Mitsuki said, “we work in the fashion industry so…let’s get you something to strut around in.”
You weren’t Mitsuki’s definition of worthy for her son. You weren’t drop-dead gorgeous like the models she worked with and you definitely didn’t have the personality she saw fit for Bakugo. 
In her eyes, Bakugo needed someone just as spit-fire as him. Of course, if she thought about it for too long, she might've seen the resemblance between her and Masaru and you and Bakugo. But to her? Bakugo needed a woman who wouldn't take his shit.
Your one-word agreements were entirely way too bland.
And when she made you try on a designer dress, one that she said she’s been working on for four months, you couldn’t help the knots that formed in your stomach. You’d never worn anything this…expensive before. Honestly, it draped on the ground and you thought it fitting for a modeling show.
Mitsuki frowned. “It’s too small for you.”
That struck a chord. You awkwardly laughed and tried to play it off. "Oh you're right!"
"You know, if you dieted I'm sure we could get this in you within aa month."
You knew she probably didn’t mean much by it. She was so used to being surrounded by starving models it probably was just a new experience for her too. You had a body carved of muscles and scars—not one that would ever see itself on the runway.
Plus, there’s no way she would’ve known an off-handed comment about your weight would’ve made you nauseous. 
She made you put on multiple dresses before you landed on one that you could squeeze into. By the time you were done, you’d felt completely out of steam and just wanted to curl up with Bakugo. 
Sure, you weren’t what Mitsuki had in mind for her son. But you were a pro and you had the body that came with the job. Same as Bakugo. 
The party was a similar train wreck. You were in an event center that you’d only seen on TV. Models galore draped themselves on a feral Bakugo. Steam erupted from his ears once, and you thought one of them was going to flop over dead. They didn’t stop coming onto him until he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. 
The contact made your stomach flutter. He’s never held you like this before. His hot breath tickled against that scar on your neck (the one you received in a battle oversees in Manhattan) and he rubbed circles on your hip. 
You ate food you’d never heard of and drank cocktails you didn’t know existed. The entire time, Bakugo clung to you like a koala on a tree and glared at anyone who came too close. 
Then it was over. People streamed out of the event center and Bakugo dragged you to his car. 
“That shit gets harder every damn time," he grumbles under his breath before you were driving back to his childhood home. 
You were ecstatic when Mitsuki and Masaru left you both alone when they arrived home. It was 1 am in all fairness, and you wanted out of the tight dress. But you couldn't lift your arms past your collar bone, let alone try to twist around to unzip the clingy fabric.
"Katsuki," you whispered and stared at the ground, "can you uh...can you help me out?"
His fingers on your back sent shivers down your spine and the butterflies in your stomach took to the air and scorching saliva drenched your mouth when you pushed him away and ran to the bathroom. 
“The fuck?” He chased after you and stopped when you keeled over the toilet. Bakugo rolled his eyes and crossed him arms, watching as you unloaded all the expensive and unholy hors d’oeuvres into the toilet. 
It made you squirm even more with his crimson eyes beating against you like a falcon when you retched. The pressure built up in your eyes and nose and your throat seared when tears and bile dribbled into the toilet. 
“I think my mom has some nausea pills. Want one?”
“No,” you gasped and sat back in your feet. “Sorry, I just…I need to brush my teeth and lay down.”
After a few seconds, you pulled yourself up and rinsed your mouth before reaching for your toiletry bag and tugging out your toothbrush and toothpaste. 
Bakugo grunted and grabbed his toothbrush, pulled out his phone and set a timer for two minutes. 
“DIE! DIE!” Bakugo yelled in the mirror and you watched with wide eyes, your toothbrush falling limp in your mouth. “DIE! Fucking germs!”
Your laughter graced his ears and he piqued an eyebrow at you. 
Before you realized it, you were saying, “I want to brush my teeth with you everyday, Katsuki.”
The declaration made both your faces beet red. It was so simple and comforting, standing next to Bakugo while he yelled at his teeth. It was so…him. Watching him brush his teeth was the most Bakugo thing you witnessed since you started dating that even though it was so new, it was something you wanted to do with him always. 
Something your friends always told you popped in your head when you stared at him while he gnawed on his toothbrush:
"When you know, you know. You'll understand later."
You could marry him right here with spit on your chin and a fury in his eyes. You would wear this designer dress hanging off your shoulders and he'd wear his sweats and that was the moment you knew.
This was a type of intimacy you'd never experienced.
And that was a change that made you truly happy.
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siriuslysirius05 · 8 months
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Not His Son
Look, Tom knew that Bradley —Rooster, these days— wasn’t his son. Hell, he wasn’t even Maverick’s, a fact Bradley made very, very clear when he left that night. Ice remembers it like it was yesterday; Bradley had received a letter from USNA telling him that his application was, for whatever reason, pulled successfully. He’d approached Maverick with the subject, quickly blowing up at his godfather/adopted father once the truth was revealed. Pete Mitchell had pulled Bradley Bradshaw’s Naval Academy application. He left in a fury, shouting awful things that Tom knew Maverick dreamed about every night.
“You aren’t my dad. You never were. I hate you. I wish you died instead!”
Tom also thought of those words often. They were sharp thorns in his heart, haunted his every breath. Bradley was right, they weren’t his parents. And while they might have raised him, Iceman and Maverick were nothing but a heavy, burdened memory Bradley despised.
That didn’t mean they stopped caring. Especially now that Ice was a three star admiral, and Bradley was a full-fledged naval aviator. Hell, he was attending TOPGUN (at Ice’s secret referral). He was a grown man, an independent and strong man. He didn’t need Maverick, he didn’t need Iceman.
It didn’t stop Ice from keeping an eye on him, though. With his admiral status, Ice had the files of every single naval flight officer at his fingertips. Most of the time, Tom used the files to recommend squadrons and put together missions, but…
He still worried about the kid.
In actuality, it wasn’t all that often that Tom checked on Bradley. Every few months, and he usually didn’t tell Maverick the updates with the knowledge that his husband —they’d gotten married without Bradley there, but they did send an invite that went unanswered— would be hurt knowing Bradley was doing well without him. And that wasn’t narcissism or anything on Pete’s part; Bradley was, in all ways but blood, Pete’s kid. He always would be, even if the only surviving Bradshaw never spoke with him again.
It was Bradley’s second week at TOPGUN, and he was doing well. Top of his class, in fact. It brought both joy and a strange feeling to Ice’s chest.
He’d passed Bradley in the hallways of the air base several times in the past weeks, and every time he gave the man a warm smile. One of the other admirals on base, a two star by the callsign of Cyclone, teased him about the sudden appearance and disappearance of warmth on his face every time he was in the same general area as his kid.
Not his kid.
Today was a particularly bad day for Tom. His husband was stationed overseas and had been for the last month and a half, and Ice was missing him dearly. Plus, Ice had nightmares about Hop31 (better known as ‘the accident’ around Maverick, who flinched anytime ‘hop’ and ‘31’ were in the same sentence) and Goose’s death the night before.
Seeing Bradley strutting through base, a funky-pattern Hawaiian shirt on and wearing a pair of aviators, his 70s-pornstache perfectly groomed, was just salt in the wound. His (not) son was a spitting image of Nick Bradshaw, identical even in the walk. Goose always loved to strut and peacock about, showing off whatever shirt he had on.
Tom had tried to approach Bradley, just to say something. Hi. I miss you. Pete misses you. Anything, just to hear the young man’s voice. Would he sound like Goose? Bradley was raised in California, so he didn’t have the southern twang that Goose had, but maybe…
Bradley glared at Ice when he got near, turning and walking away. His friends, who Ice recognized as Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace and Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch, looked confused as they snapped to attention. Tom sighed, smiling sadly at the kids before turning to walk the other direction.
Later that day, Ice was watching the skies. His mind overlayed memories of Hop31, how *well* it was going, with the planes flying overhead. He knew who was up there right now. He knew that the F/A-18 that just barreled through the sky was none other than Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. Pride and guilt filled his chest, and he was suddenly overcome with emotion. Emotion he didn’t deserve to feel, because Bradley was not his son.
He turned away from the window, eyes wet.
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((Story based on the short sketchy drawing I did in an hour or so…the uniform is probably very inaccurate just bear with me please))
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