#you’re the one going out of your way to come back to my blog to send anon messages why are you so pressed
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I’M LOST IN ADMIRATION, COULD I NEED YOU THIS MUCH? | PROLOGUE
chapter warnings; does not follow ST timeline, eddie being slightly sour, a creepy boy, eddie is a knight in shining …. metallica tee?, no appearance spoken about (i try to be inclusive for everyone to read) - but if there’s anything besides accidental pronoun drop, please feel free to let me know!
an; super excited to tell eddie’s story for my au and for all of you to read! i’m slightly hoping people will ask me questions in my inbox for this story like i’ve seen others do on other blogs (a girl can dream). but to those who take time to read and who ever is excited - thank you so much. i adore you forever.
JUNE 15TH, 1987.
𖡡 AGUSTA, INDIANA.
Eddie is starting to regret showing up to a concert that Steve had drugged both him and Robin to - Tears For Fears concert at that.
Robin was beaming - bouncing on her toes, blue eyes scoping the top of everyone’s head, hands clasped together in front of her chest. “Eddie, quit being so sour. You’re gonna bring down my mood.”
“It’s hot out here,” Eddie complains. “My hair is flat to my head now because I’m all sticky. I need a drink too.”
“Do you want a snack too?” It’s a rhetorical question Steve asks. But Eddie smirks and looks at him.
“Yes. Yes, I do. When we get in there you're gonna give me some cash and I’ll go get us something from the bar.”
“Me? Why me?” Steve is baffled by Eddie’s suggestion as if he wasn’t the one who wanted to come.
“Because I barely have any money and you drug me here,” He points his thumb towards Robin. “She wanted to come. That’s a different story.”
Steve grumbles and pulls his wallet from the front pocket of his jeans. Eddie’s brows lift slightly, head tilting up slightly to take a quick peek into the wallet.
Steve narrows his eyes and quickly shuts his wallet as he hands over two twenty dollar bills.
Eddie takes it from Steve’s hand. “Thank you, rich man.”
Steve opens his mouth to speak but Robin is squealing. “They’re opening the doors!” She claps. “Maybe we can bulldoze over a couple of people to get close to the stage.”
Eddie and Steve glances at one another - they know Robin would not have that in her, especially in one’s anxious nature.
There’s a stamp placed on each of their hands when they step close to the guard up front. Robin steps inside, looking around the lobby area with wide eyes and parted mouth. “This is so tubular.”
It’s been a saying she’s added into her vocabulary. Along with ‘veg out’.
“Dustin is gonna be so jealous,” She then looks at Steve. “Kind of feel bad for the strange boy, matter-of-fact.”
Steve rolls his eyes and places his hands on his hips. “He’ll be fine.”
“He threw out your hair supplies when he found out, Steve.”
“Well…” Steve thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “He’ll be fine eventually. I didn’t even know he liked Tears For Fears! I would’ve brought him instead of tough guy over here, all brooding and mysterious.”
Eddie smacks the hand of the pointing thumb, mocking him before slapping his forehead as he walks past. “I’ll find you in the crowd, peasants.”
Steve huffs, pointing at him. “I better get my change back, Munson.”
Eddie waves a hand and glances over his shoulder watching as Steve and Robin make their way into the arena. Letting a small sigh out, he slips out of line.
He wanted to look around first. Wanted to get a feel of what it’d be like to perform somewhere like here. It’s still in Indiana, but some place better than Hawkins.
He’s cooled off tremendously, but his hair is still flat to his head which annoys him to no end. His scalp itches from how much he had sweat from waiting outside. He should’ve worn something way different besides black.
He has color in his closet, but waking up at the crack of dawn to go on a small road trip with two chatterboxes was not ideal - especially ones who would not let you go back to sleep.
He's caught off by the sound of a pinball machine and the multitude of ding, ding, dings that leave the open room and float down the hallway. There’s a neon sign that glows red and stretches across the carpet that beckons Eddie to an arcade room.
An arcade room!
The cash in his pocket feels like it’s burning a hole through his pocket but he knows if he comes back empty handed - snacks, drinks, and cash back - he’s a dead man while Curt Smith and Roland Orzabal sings the song that has a strangely upbeat sound but sad lyrics.
Mad World if you will.
He could just look. That’s it. No playing. Just peeking at all the high scores that he knows he could’ve beat with the eighty bucks right now.
He might’ve lied when he said he barely had any money. He had twenty to spare.
His smile doesn’t falter as he walks down the row of machines, letting out a whistle at one of the high scores.
“I’m really not interested. I’m sorry, sir.”
Eddie’s brow lifts slightly as he stops by a machine that’s close to the register.
There’s a couple of chuckles that have him turning his head and investigating what’s going on behind him. There’s a group of boys against one person behind the counter - you.
You look tired and fed up with the antics that you had put up with the whole day.
“Sir…A good one who uses manners - that’s rare,” Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head. If that kid thinks that was a pick-up line, he’s grossly mistaken. “Anyway. I just think maybe you should—”
“She told you, she’s not interested.” It slips before Eddie can catch himself and he’s gritting his teeth together and clamping his eyes shut.
He can hear the scrunch of new shoes as they make their way over. When he’s opening his eyes, they’re met with pristine Nike’s that has a red swoop on each shoe with blue lines.
“I don’t think anyone was talking to you.”
Eddie lets out a defeated sigh - he lets the words slip before he could stop them and that’s a price he has to pay, especially if it takes their mind off of you for a while.
“And you’re bothering someone with a gross pick-up line while they’re working after they told you they're not interested,” He shakes his head. “I know there’s nothing much that rattles around up here,” The tip of his finger taps at his own temple.
“But you do know what no means, right? Or did you forget the basic definition of that because you always get what you ask for?”
There’s a second Eddie feels like he’s lifted from the ground, but he’s wincing when his back is slammed into a machine. It shakes with force and there’s a small ding sound - he almost laughs from the sound.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“No,” Eddie shrugs slightly. His rings pinch at his palm when he grips the polished edge of the glass. “Oh, wait, you don’t know what that means, do you?”
His shirt is bunched up when he feels the grip loosen. “Oh, you’re a mouthy one, huh?”
“Occasionally.”
Eddie’s digging himself deeper in a hole that, again, he never meant to start first and now he’s about… twelve feet down.
The boy in front of him chuckles. Eddie lets out a small laugh because he realized how incredibly stupid this whole thing is. And maybe because he’s nervous as well.
“Brian!” The boy flinches and looks over his shoulder. Eddie glances at his knight-in-shining-uniform. “I told you to leave my workers alone and not to come back here. I could call the cops if I wanted to. Leave.”
Ah, so this has happened on more than one occasion, has it, Brian.
Eddie looks back when blue eyes connect with him again. “Watch your back.” To make it seem good, he’s pushing Eddie back into the machine again.
Yeah, well, good thing for Eddie, he doesn’t have to watch his back. He doesn’t even live here.
The man follows behind the group of boys, giving you a small nod. You give a quick nod back and a little thumbs up. You then turn and look at Eddie, tilting your head slightly.
He watches as you walk closer and bend at the waist before coming back up, holding up two folded green bills. “Dropped this.”
“Oh,” He’s suddenly flushed and he nods a bit, grabbing the cash from your fingers. “Thanks.”
“Well, thank you. For, uh, taking up for me. Not a lot of people have the courage to do that.”
“Yeah, well,” Eddie stands straighter when he notices that he’s still leaned against the machine and smooths out his shirt. “Guys like that are annoying to people. You’d just have to keep on repeating yourself.”
You give a small nod and a small smile, eyes glancing down at his shirt. “I like your shirt.”
He glances down because he momentarily forgets what shirt he’s wearing. “Oh, thank you. You listen to Metallica?”
You laugh softly. “They’re a big band. But, yes, I listen to them. Got tickets for July.”
“Wait, really?” He lifts his brows. You nod with a small mhm. “I’ll be there too.”
“Well, uh—”
“Eddie.” He says his name all too eagerly when he realizes he hasn’t even given you his name - what a ditz.
You smile softly, glossy lips shining from the neon red that catches and mingles. “Eddie,” It’s soft and sweet and smooth the way you repeat his name. “I…might see you there, then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I’ll look for you…” He pauses when he realizes how creepy that sounds. “You can look for me.”
You snort. “We can both look for one another. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great, yeah.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to the concert, which I’m totally jealous about, by the way. You can see and hear them loud and clear. I get to hear a muffled version.” Your face scrunches a bit as you shake your head.
He didn’t want to say how sour he was the whole way here - he’ll spare that. Instead, he says - “I’ll enjoy it for the both of us.”
You smile at him again, nodding. “I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”
Nodding, he’s walking out of the arcade, only glancing back until you’re out of view. He’s just realizing how much time he’s spent in the arcade and curses quietly to himself, stepping into the arena, eyes squinting to see if he can make out a screaming rasping girl and a head full of hair.
Cutting through the crowd, he finally catches a whiff of Steve’s cologne and glances over. “Steve!” He's making his way over, before stopping beside him.
“You didn’t get anything?! What were you doing this whole time?!”
Take a wild guess.
“Uhh … Bathroom. I decided to just come here when I got out!”
Steve rolls his eyes and grabs the money from Eddie’s hand that he hands back over. He flinches when Robin grips his forearm, jumping as they fade into a new song.
Only then does Eddie realize…
He never got your name.
— @joshlmbrt 2024
#joshlambrt presents…#ILIACINYTM?#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fanfic#joseph quinn x reader#jospeh quinn x reader
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darling darling jade-y!!! I saw your post about semi specific requests that you like to write and I thought I’d combine two of the things I saw on there ❤️
for asf!Fred, very possibly maybe reader gets a serious concussion and Fred has worries about how the brain fog may affect readers tendencies to dissociate or that the confusion might further upset her? Just general, mutual hurt comfort where everyone’s worries are put at ease in the end ❤️❤️
I love coming back to your blog almost everyday and always finding something delicious to read no matter if i’m reading something new or rereading a fav!! Sorry this was a bit long but I love to sing people’s praises!! Have a looovely day or night ❤️
thank you for your request lovely! 💌 —Fred takes care of you when you can’t look after yourself, but he finds it hard to ignore how your actions mimic the past. 2k, fem
cw mental health issues
“It’s alright. Hold my hand.”
Fred puts his hand out for you in the middle of George and Angelina’s living room. Your eyes shine with hurt, so odd to see when no one’s said anything cruel, and you won’t take it. You’re stuck where you’re standing.
“Go on, sweetheart, take my hand. It’s okay. I’m just gonna help you.”
You put your hand up gently. Fred takes the hint and twines his hand through yours, tickled by the slowness of your fingers curling over the backs of his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, taking a guiding step to the sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”
You walk. Fred takes your shoulders into his hands when you’re close enough and holds you to his chest as he shakes out the pillows behind you, making room for you to sit comfortably. “Okay, sit down, my girl. There you go.” He grins at you. “Brilliant. How do you feel, are you okay?”
You stare at him. Your despondency makes him feel sick, but he swallows it down. He bends at the waist to meet your eyes with nothing but patience and fondness. “Y/N,” he says slowly, reaching for your knee. “Do you need to go to bed?”
“No.”
“No. Alright, I’m going to get your drink, and see if George is finished with dinner, okay? I’m not going far.”
You give him a look you’ve employed many times since you got hurt, like you can’t work out why he’s acting strangely, or perhaps why you’re acting strangely. Fred pulls your hand to his mouth for a kiss, barely a kiss, more like he’s pressing the entirety of your hand to his lips.
“Love you,” you say.
“I love you,” he says into your hand. “Okay? I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know, I know, I just don’t want you to worry.”
He encourages your shoulders back to have you flush to the sofa and sends you a wink as he goes. You almost laugh, teeth peeking out as you smile at him, the happiest you’ve looked for at least the last two days. Your brain fog is persistent and bothersome, to put it lightly.
Fred heads into the kitchen where George is plating a large baking tray of pasta into four dishes, two of which he’s set atop the microwave.
“Hey,” George says, “I’ve got two for now and two for tomorrow, just in case.”
Fred doesn’t know how to say thank you, so he doesn’t. If Fred weren’t in love with you in a way that’s changed his entire being, George would still look after you, because you’re one of his best friends, and he’s yours. But Fred does love you, and George knows that, and to be taken care of by his brother while you recover is a privilege he won’t take lightly.
“Don’t worry about it, Forge. I think mums got a lasagna with our names on it waiting in her fridge…” Fred leans against the wall by the door frame and covers his eyes. He’d been joking, and now suddenly he feels sick again.
“You okay?” George asks.
Fred holds out his hand, as if to say, Don’t ask me. Don’t ask and don’t come near me. He doesn’t think that boys don’t cry, but he just hates being this person who can’t keep it together. You need to be looked after by someone who’s fully present while you’re disassociative. Fred needs to be that person, but it’s just so hard seeing you like this again.
“I feel like–” He swallows nothing, meeting George’s waiting gaze with a weak smile. “Feel like she’s that scared lonely girl again and there’s nothing I can do to make it up to her.”
George puts the empty pan on the back burner. He tosses dirty spoons and forks into the sink, and wipes his hands on a tea towel pensively. “It’s a brutal mix of symptoms,” he says finally, his voice straining. “But she’ll get better again.”
Post concussive symptoms are about as bad as it comes, and they can last for months. Not just weeks. Among the more manageable, such as dizziness, high blood pressure, and fatigue, are the worst Fred could imagine for you in particular —cognitive dissonance, memory loss, brain fog, anxiety, and depression. Even if you recover from each of your physical symptoms, it’s not uncommon for people who sustain a brain injury to remain depressed.
You’re already sick. Fred loves you and he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care, not a single thing will change for him, but you’re not well, and this head injury could send you into a tailspin.
“I forgot what she looks like when she’s hopeless,” Fred says. “I really did.”
“She’s not hopeless, Freddie, she’s hurt. Her head will get better, and she’ll get better too, because she has us to make sure of it.” George puts a plate of pasta onto a wooden tray with a knife and fork. “I’m… you know, I’m worried too.”
“Yeah.”
“I have Parmesan cheese and stuff in the fridge.”
“It’s okay. I’m gonna take hers in first.”
“You have to eat.”
“I know, I will. She might take some convincing, is all.”
It’s not as though Fred thought you were going to walk away from your concussion without consequence. It was an awful injury, his heart has never pounded that fast or that hard in his life, but he didn’t expect the symptoms of what you’re experiencing now to coincide as heavily as they do with your worst struggles.
You're teary eyed on the sofa, pressing yourself back into the apex of the arm and the cushions. It’s another symptom with multiple causes; Fred has found you crying because you were confused, and aching, and without explanation. It can happen and be finished within a few seconds.
“Hi, lovely girl. I have your dinner.”
“What is it?” you ask, sniffing.
Fred remembers the days in his last year of school where you’d been hungry enough to shake but not willing to eat. You didn’t know then and you can’t know now the sort of pain it is to watch a friend not be able to feed themselves without extreme effort, and Fred wouldn't want that for you, but it’s why he can’t explain his relief to you that you still have your appetite.
He sits down next to you and puts the tray on your lap, tentative at first to touch you in case he puts you off eating, then greedy with his hands as you eat a big first mouthful, and a second. You’re not uncoordinated despite the doctor's warnings. The dissonance seems to come before decision making for you, and this decision is firmly made.
You’re hungry so you’re eating.
Fred had to beg yesterday for you to eat. Hands on your legs, tone dropped into the most dulcet it’s ever been, asking, “Just one thing, can you do that for me? A piece of toast, lovely.”
That’s why you’re here. Fred can’t take care of you alone, he’s found. It’s almost fitting that you should need both of them again, even if Fred wishes you didn’t.
He knows it’s saccharine. Patronising, even, but he gives your arm a light squeeze. “Good girl,” he says quietly, relief palpable. “How is that? Is it nice? Don’t tell me all the trouble we had yesterday is because you don’t like my cooking.”
“Felt sick all day,” you say, scratching your bowl with the tines of your fork.
“I know. Do you feel less sick right now?” He cups your face as you nod shyly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t mind. I’m just kidding. George made you another plate to take home, anyways, so you won't suffer again.”
Your laugh is more breath than voice, but you turn your cheek into his hand before he can pull it away. There’s a connection in your gaze he hasn’t seen for a while. “You’re worrying.”
“I’m fine.”
You put your tray in his lap, and his heart sinks thinking you’re finished already, you’d eaten a few good spoonfuls but not enough to make up for days of pickiness. Your arm slides behind his. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” you say, pressing your cheek to his arm in a cuddle. “You can tell me anything.”
“I’m fine,” he says, rubbing his nose against your head.
“It’s okay, lovely.”
He blinks back tears. “No, I know it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“You can have mine. I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Can’t we share it?” he asks. He thinks you might be lying. In your confusion, you’ve taken his upset to be rooted in hunger. “Please?”
“It’s nice,” you say, like you’re agreeing, picking up your fork again to eat from his lap.
Fred breathes out a sigh. If he could, he would wrap you up in a hug so tight it makes you both click.
You offer him a forkful. He eats it and doesn’t comment on the way it taps against his teeth.
“I think I have that pain again,” you say, poking at pasta shells.
“Yeah? In the back of your head?”
“Like a thrumming.”
“I’ll get your painkillers.”
“I’m about to go get them,” George says, carrying a second tray, a soft smile on his face as he puts it on the coffee table. “I can read your mind, ghost.”
“What am I thinking now?” you ask.
“It’s nice to be with your best friends, duh,” he says, turning around again to retrieve your painkillers.
You turn to Fred without saying anything, eye to eye, nearly not quite smiling. You abandon your fork again to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him, hiding. Fred closes his eyes, his arm curved eagerly behind your back. “Don’t knock the tray,” he mumbles, letting out a deep breath.
“You’re making me feel sick,” you say.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault, right? It’s always my fault.”
“No, no, lovely, it’s not your fault.”
“It’s my fault,” you mumble. “There’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect to me, you always will be. You’re just not very well today, that’s all it is.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, nearing hurting now, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry, Fred.”
“Ghost, it’s okay.” He shoves the tray from his lap. He can clean up any mess, but this is urgent. You slouch into the space he makes. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, and it wouldn’t matter if it was. There’s nothing wrong with you that won’t get better.”
“I don’t like feeling like this.”
Fred collects himself. He can’t panic right now, as much as he wants to. “It’s not forever,” he says, letting his hand run down your back to the base of your spine, “I promise, it’ll start to feel better. I’m not going anywhere until it does, and even then you can’t get rid of me. When was the last time you managed that?”
“I don’t want to get rid of you,” you mumble.
His hand seems to be working. The massaging of his thumb against the base of your spine calms you down. “I don’t want you to,” he says, nudging at your face with hide nose until he can kiss your cheek. “Mm?” he hums, lips sliding against the corner of your mouth. “Just me and you forever, yeah? You can’t be alone when you have me.”
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Why are you in my head? Pt. 5
Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue
Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)
Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)
Fluff - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4**
Word count: 1893
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, mention of hospitals, mention and brief description of childbirth, mention of birth defects (CHD), mention of surgery/aftermath, no use of y/n, fem reader, let me know if I missed any!
That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
“Ughhh, why isn’t he answering?” You shouted into the living room.
Now is not the time for you to be this busy Eddie!!!
You thought about it a little while longer, debating calling Eddie again or calling someone else. That was when you decided to call Wayne.
“Hello?” Wayne answered gruffly.
“Hey Wayne, are you uh, are you busy right now?” You asked.
“Hey darlin’ is everything okay?” He questioned.
“Yeah, well not actually, Eddie isn’t answering his phone and I ugh…I need to go to the hospital.” You rambled.
“Okay, you hang tight, I will be there soon! Keep calling Eddie okay?”
With that, Wayne hung up the phone and made his way to the truck, ignoring most traffic laws in hopes to get to you as soon as he, legally, can.
Eddie Munson if you do not pick up your phone I SWEAR TO ALL THINGS HOLY!!!
Shit, shit, shit!!! Is it time? I’m on my way!!!
The last seven years had been a whirlwind. Eddie had proposed to you six months after you heard him tell Wayne he was going to, that was 1986.
It was now 1993, and things were completely different than when you met Eddie. Since then, your parents had retired and started going on cruises, which is where they happened to be now. Wayne still worked at the factory but had cut back on his hours to help you and Eddie out.
Eddie got a job at a local body shop, he had stopped dealing drugs because it wasn’t safe anymore, given the expansion of your family. You had gone to school and were now working as a nurse, taking after your mom.
Your parents had surprised you and Eddie after you got married by buying you a house, they had sold theirs and bought a trailer, close to Wayne’s seeing as they were travelling so much. The house they bought you was modest, a one story, three-bedroom, two bathroom. It had a nice grassy yard that allowed you to host your friends should you choose. It also had a basement which was perfect for Eddie to transform into the ultimate DND room.
You had been pregnant at the wedding, not that either of you had been aware of that fact. You had found out about a month later and in the fall of 1987 your first child was born.
Eddie and you had two beautiful children, a son, Ronnie 6, and a daughter, Vivian 3. Both are named after members of Dio. You were hesitant at first, but after Eddie really got you into metal music (especially Dio) you caved.
Which leads you to now, spring 1993, you were currently in labor with your twins. Naturally Eddie wasn’t answering his phone, he hadn’t even wanted to get a mobile phone, but you had convinced him when you found out the potential risks of a multiples pregnancy. With your parents on a ship somewhere in the Mexican Riviera, you had no other choice but to call Wayne.
A knock on the door shook you out of your thoughts. You waddled your way over to the door, just as Wayne let himself in.
“Thank you for coming Wayne!” You huffed.
Eddie you had better be at the hospital for this birth!
“Of course, kiddo. Where are the rugrats?” Wayne asked.
“They’re with Steve and Nancy today.” You explained as you gathered your things.
I’m on my way! Please be okay!
“You got everything you need?” Wayne asked.
“Uh yeah…” looking around one last time, “I think that’s everything.” You nodded.
Wayne reached for your bag and led you out to his truck. He opened your door for you and helped you up into the truck, refusing to leave your side until you were settled and buckled in. He finally made his way around to the driver’s side and started your journey to the hospital.
“Any word from the boy yet?” Wayne questioned.
“Not via phone if that’s what you’re asking” you took a sharp breath in “I can hear him internally panicking though.” You huffed out a laugh, trying to control your breathing.
As Wayne wheeled you into the hospital, a horde of your coworkers made their way to you. They were congratulating you, helping you get checked in, ensuring you were okay and honestly it was becoming a bit overwhelming. All you wanted was for Eddie to be by your side and for these babies to exit your womb.
Where are you?
I’m here, I’m here. Please don’t have the babies without me!
An OB nurse and Wayne walked with you to your room, Wayne began setting your things up around the room while the nurse got your vitals and those of the babies. While she did this, you could hear shoes scuffing along the linoleum floors.
“I’m here!” Eddie hollered, out of breath.
“Glad you could make it.” You bit. “Sorry, it’s the contractions talking.”
“It’s okay baby!” Eddie leaned over and kissed your forehead.
He walked over to assist Wayne in setting up the rest of your things. The two of you had made a list and were sure to pack all the things you wished you had during the last two births.
“I um, I got everything I need here. I’m just going to go get your doctor and I will be right back.” The nurse expressed wearily before making her exit.
She clearly didn’t read the chart and is concerned about Toni’s CHD.
Eddie let out a slight chuckle which caused Wayne to shoot him a questioning glance. Wayne let Eddie know he was going to go get a coffee and that he’d be in the waiting room. He also informed you guys that he would call your parents and your friends to inform them you were in labor.
“Hey you two! You ready to have these babies?” Your doctor asked as she entered your room.
“Hey Dr. Evans, and yes I am so ready for these two to be out of me!” You sighed.
“Well good, because by the looks of it, you shouldn’t have to wait too much longer.” Dr. Evans explained. “Also, I am sorry about the nurse earlier, she’s new, she doesn’t know you work here, or that you guys are more than aware of Toni’s congenital heart disease.”
“It’s okay!” You released a shaky breath as another contraction rolled through you.
“Can you explain it all to me again? I know we’ve gone over it, I just, I want to hear it again.” Eddie pleaded.
“Of course, so Toni has a tiny hole in her heart wall, so once she is out, our pediatric surgeon will take her to the operating room and repair it! Once it is all fixed up, she will be in the NICU for a little while, just while she heals and then she will be all set to go home and grow up! She will have to have regular checkups, but she’ll lead a relatively normal life.” Dr. Evans explained.
A hole in her heart, Jesus. She’s not even born and already her life is hard.
“Eds, honey she’s going to be okay. This is sadly more common than you’d think.”
Eddie placed his hand on your shoulder, appreciating your support. You looked up at him as another contraction ripped through you. You took a few more deep breaths, glancing over to Dr. Evans. She checked you once more and informed you that it was time.
Everything happened seemingly all at once. First out was Ozzy, he was taken over to be cleaned up and measured, next was Toni who was almost immediately taken to her surgery. Dr. Evans stitched you up (birthing twins was no joke…neither was the tearing that occurred) and congratulated you both. She also let you know that someone would be by to keep you updated on Toni’s status.
Eddie was sitting in the recliner holding Ozzy while you rested. Steve and Nancy were on their way with your kids, excited to meet the new additions to your family. Robin and Dustin called to let you know they’d be by soon and they were bringing you some real food.
A nurse stopped in to let you know that Toni was still in surgery, but it was going well, when you heard tiny feet slapping against the floor, growing in volume.
“Mommy!” Ronnie yelled, running to your bedside.
“Hey bug.” You reached your hand down to brush his curls back out of his face.
“Sorry! He’s so fast!” Steve apologized.
Steve lifted Ronnie and placed him at the foot of your bed, all the while Nancy was walking in with Vivian, who was fast asleep in her arms. She smiled at you and wished you congratulations and when her gaze landed on Eddie, she couldn’t help but coo at the sleeping baby resting on his chest.
Robin and Dustin entered moments later with a pizza, some soda, and a few gift bags in hand.
“Hey! Any word on Toni yet?” Rabin asked as she wrapped you in a hug then made her way to poke at Ronnie, who burst into a fit of giggles.
“Uh not yet, the nurse just let us know that her surgery was going well.” Eddie explained.
The night seemed to drag, the food and good company was a nice distraction from the fact that your daughter’s tiny heart was being worked on. You were thankful for your friends, especially that they’d all been so willing to hang around until you heard more.
“Hey there” Dr, Evans popped her head in your room “I just wanted to let you know that Toni is out of surgery, she did great and is on her way to the NICU now! I can take you both over there if you’d like to see her?”
You glanced at your friends who all nodded in unison, their way of silently telling you to go and that they could watch Ronnie and Vivian. You smiled at them and allowed Eddie to help you into a wheelchair. Dustin gently handed Ozzy back to you and then Dr. Evans escorted you to the NICU.
“So don’t be alarmed, she’s hooked up to a few machines, but it is just to monitor her hear function and her vitals.” Dr. Evans stated, more so for Eddie than you.
Eddie pushed your chair over to the incubator that currently housed your daughter. You looked in at her, she was so tiny, there was a small bandage placed on her chest. Looking over at Dr. Evans, she nodded signaling it was okay for you to open the side panel and hold your baby.
You reached your left hand in while cradling Ozzy in your right. Eddie made his way around to the other side and reached in to hold Toni’s other hand.
She’s so beautiful, they both are.
You’re so beautiful. Thank you for making me a dad, again.
A tear slipped down your cheek. You were so incredibly happy to have Eddie by your side and four beautiful children. You couldn’t wait to be by their sides as they found love the same way you had with Eddie.
This life was such a gift, and you were so grateful for all of it.
Thank you for bringing light into my life. Thank you for loving me.
Fin
Tag List: @sashaphantomhive @silky-luxe
#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson stranger things#corroded coffin#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things 4#eddie munson angst#eddie munson au#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson angst blurb#sstranger things blurb#stranger things imagine#stranger things x you#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#mechanic!eddie#mechanic!eddie x reader#mechanic!eddie x y/n#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x mom!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fluff#why are you in my head#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff
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Hey Cha! Feel free to ignore this, but could I request a drabble of Jackson reacting to April dyeing her hair back to its natural red colour? Like maybe she visits family and comes back with red hair and it surprises him (or something). I for sure think he had some thoughts™ about it!
It's okay if not, I love your writing and your blog either way, and have a fantastic day 😊
I'm so happy you sent this request, because I have the same headcanon about April's red hair (that it's her natural color and she dyed it brown to blend in). Thank you so much for your support and kind comments, and I hope you'll like this one! <3
___
“Have you seen April?”
Jackson looks up from the chart he’s signing to face a frantic, out-of-breath Lexie.
“No, but she’s supposed to come back from her family holiday today, though.”
Lexie nods fervently.
“I know that, I bumped into her this morning. She changed her hair, and I may have said something like ‘it’s such a big change!’, but like, in a positive way! But now she’s having second thoughts, so you have to tell her her hair is perfect the way it is, because it suits her, and I don’t want to be responsible for one of her freak-outs.”
Jackson rolls his eyes.
“Newsflash, Lex, I’m a guy. We don’t care about haircuts. I’m not going to see April and pretend I’ve noticed she cut 1 inch of her hair.”
“You know what? You suck, Avery.”
Lexie gives him a dirty look and scuttles back to an exam room. He shakes his head and goes back to his chart. What does Lexie think he and April talk about?
“Hi!”
He doesn’t need to look up to recognize his best friend’s cheerful voice. April smiles at him, in the familiar way he’s now used to, like she’s genuinely happy to see him, and he can’t help but smile back. Her surgical gown and scrub cap indicate that she’s fresh out of surgery, and she confirms it (a double bypass, lucky her) before removing her cap in one smooth movement, freeing her hair.
Her newly bright red hair.
Oh.
“Uh.”
Catherine Avery has raised him better than this, but he can’t help but stare at her.
“You’re okay?”
Her green eyes, the perfect contrast to the red, look at him with concern, and he shakes his head to get his head straight.
“Yeah, yeah. How was your trip?”
“Good! The flight was awful, but I managed to see everyone, and…,” and as April recounts her vacation, he observes, mesmerized, as she runs her hand through her hair, untangling the knots her scrub cap has made. When she frowns, though, he realizes he has not listened to a single word she said.
“You’re staring.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been staring at me for the past minute, and it’s becoming creepy. Do I have something on my face? Wait, it’s not blood, isn’t it? Ugh, I know Cristina oriented that bleeder towards me during surgery.”
“What? No, sorry, I drifted off. Come on, let’s get lunch.”
Lexie finds them in the cafeteria a few minutes later, and what he’s supposed to do is study for the cleft palate surgery Sloan is letting him scrub in later that day. Not give furtive glances to his friend and eavesdrop on Lexie and April’s conversation – well, on April’s rambling about how she wanted not to stand out in med school with bright red hair, so he guesses the hair change topic is back on.
“Being another brunette just seemed easier, and my sisters were livid when I did it, which honestly was a bonus,” and every time she talks about her sisters, Jackson finds himself extremely glad he never had any siblings. “My mother is happy I went back to red though, she said we should always go with our God-given color and that my hair was red for a reason.”
He doesn’t know April’s mother, but he completely agrees with her. Red suits her, way more than the brown hair did, and why is he even thinking about this?
“I’m not sure about it though, sometimes I think the red is still too much. Do you think I should dye it back?”
He’s lucky Lexie is quick to reassure his friend that her hair is fine, because he doesn’t think that the indignant “No!!!” he had to bite back would have been a useful contribution to the conversation. Since when does a guy care about their friend’s hair color?
Sneaking one last glance to April, he goes back to his book and reads a sentence about temporary stitches for what must be the fourth time.
He figures his new staring habit would last just a few days, the time to get used to her more vibrant hair (the perfect match to what he knows his best friend is), but it’s now been three weeks, and if anything, he notices her more, which is probably because of the brighter color (or so he tells himself). In the hospital crowd, his eyes find her more often than not, usually when she’s not even aware of his presence, and he’s had time to study all the ways the light reflects on her locks. Not that he would admit it to anybody, but he studies her, the way one studies a work of art, trying to absorb the slightest nuances, and it unnerves him. It’s just a hair color.
“Avery! Back me up here!”
Alex’s voice brings him back to reality, and he realizes he’s, once again, drifted off the second April entered the room.
“What?”
“Pippi Longstocking here wants us to study tonight and practice for our fellowship interviews. We’re watching the game, right?”
April rolls her eyes.
“Well, fine by me, Karev. Just because you don’t have any hospitals wanting you doesn’t mean we can’t prepare.”
Alex grunts, a sure sign the insult landed, and April smirks, proud of herself, a sight Jackson finds adorable (or something similar a grown man should feel towards his best friend). She takes a hairband, ties her hair in a knot, leaving a few strands of hair fall on her exposed neck, and the staring comes back with a vengeance, followed by a lip twitch.
Uh.
Fixating on a friend’s hair is completely normal, right?
Right?
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A3! Usui Masumi - Translation [SR] A Body That Captures Your Gaze (1/2)
*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi
---
Masumi: …
(This isn’t right either…
I can’t find a magazine that I can use as reference. I’m going to head home.)
Tsumugi: Oh my. Masumi-kun?
Masumi: Tsumugi?
Tsumugi: I don't bump into you in places like this very often.
Were you looking for something?
Masumi: Yeah. But I couldn’t find what I was looking for, so I’m going home.
Tsumugi: I see. Same here. How about we head home together then?
-pause-
Tsumugi: By the way, I heard from Tasuku that you’re also going to be showing off your muscles in an upcoming magazine photoshoot. Is that right?
Masumi: Apparently. I’m not sure how much we’re going to show, but for me, I heard it’s going to be my abs.
Tsumugi: Oh, really?
If I recall correctly, you’ve also been working on your muscles, haven’t you?
Masumi: Yeah. I asked Tasuku to come up with some muscle training regiments for me.
Tsumugi: But you weren’t working out this hard before, were you?
Why did you decide to start?
Masumi: This all started after I heard about the time Director and Citron went to a body building competition together.
She looked happy when she described how Citron participated and won the special judge’s award.
Tsumugi: Fufu. So the reason was Director after all.
Masumi: Of course it was. Otherwise, there’s no point going out of my way to ask for training menus to work on my muscles.
Tsumugi: That sounds like Masumi-kun, alright.
Have you bulked up quite a bit from your workouts?
Masumi: It’s going. Sometimes I work on a hard regiment and sometimes not.
Tsumugi: I suppose I’ll be able to see the results of your efforts in the magazine that's coming out.
I’m looking forward to it.
-pause-
Tsumugi: We’re home.
Izumi: Ah, these photos of Muku-kun are great!
He has a certain allure, doesn’t he?
Masumi: ! Director’s voice…
*runs off*
Tsumugi: Ah, Masumi-kun. Wait for me!
-pause-
Kazunari: They're legit such a bomb photos!
Omi: I agree. These poses were Muku’s suggestions.
Masumi: What are you talking about?
Tsumugi: Are those photos?
Kazunari: Ah, if it isn’t Massu and Tsumutsumu!
Izumi: Welcome back!
Masumi: I’m home.
Izumi: We were just selecting which bromide of Muku-kun to sell this time.
Kazunari: Lookie, isn’t this one to die for?
Mukkun’s pose is killing it!
Tsumugi: You’re right. He looks cool with his sharp expression too.
Masumi: You just mentioned that Muku's pictures look alluring…
Do you like these types of poses or something?
Izumi: Well, there’s no doubt I thought he looked charming. But I wouldn’t say that I specifically like the poses themselves.
Both Muku-kun’s poses and expressions in his photos fit the concept perfectly. That’s what's great about them.
Masumi: (The concept…)
I got it.
*runs off*
Izumi: Huh!? Masumi-kun? What do you mean you got it…!?
-pause-
Muku: Umm, so you have something to ask me… Ah!
Could it be that you want to talk about love!?
Masumi: No, not today. That’s not what this is about.
Muku: Ah, okay then…
Masumi: I’m going to be showing my abs in an upcoming magazine photoshoot.
But… considering the concept, I probably shouldn’t just show them off. I think it’d be better if I looked more alluring.
So if you have any books that might be helpful for those kinds of poses, let me know.
Muku: Eh!? You’re asking me about that?
I think it would be better to ask Azu-nee to teach you things like that though…
Masumi: I’m asking you. Director looked at your bromides and said they were “alluring”.
Muku: Director-san said that…?
Alright, understood. In that case, please leave it to me!
Masumi: Yeah. Thanks.
---
| next
#a3!#a3! translation#usui masumi#act! addict! actors!#I AM NOT IMMUNE TO THIRST TRAP MASUMI#I'M SORRY#BUT ALSO YOU'RE WELCOME
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“Genshin made up linguistics” brother cannot accept they were wrong and proven to be an ignorant English speaker.
i’m literally bilingual lmao?
(censored so they doesn’t appear in search)
and if you have an ounce of reading comprehension then you’ll see the distinction i made between ‘al-H*itham’ as real world naming and ‘Alh*itham’ as g*nshin naming
but alas people were already misinterpreting my first post when the only thing i ever mentioned in the initial post was “no one ever calls him this in canon and it’s jarring to read other characters referring to him as this and it always brings me back to reality immediately and it is my personal pet peeve” and ppl took it to mean “if you ever just call him H*itham then you’re wrong and incorrect” so what did i expect from tumblr reading comprehension
like you guys know you can write whatever you want right. you don’t need to defend your right to call him that you know that right. like it can be not canon and you can call him whatever you want
#like the thai g*nshin fandom calls him ‘phi tham’ (phi being an honorific)#reblogs off because i don’t want discourse#i’ll admit i was mistaken in the NOTES since i’ve only ever seen people call real world figured with the ‘al’ prefix WITH that prefix#no one in any paper or official capacity calls al-Haytham ‘Haytham’ as i’ve reiterated#but that literally does not change the fact that my original post was about how it was not canon#nowhere in the post did i say you ‘couldn’t’ write things that aren’t canon#it just said i personally did not like it#you’re the one going out of your way to come back to my blog to send anon messages why are you so pressed#also get off anon your respectability drops 90% when you argue with people behind anonymous#the next time you anon me i’m blocking you
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Cat and Mouse
❝ Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily. ❞
PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader
GENRE: bad boy au, smut
WORD COUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS: bad boy!wonwoo, allusions of illicit activities, descriptions of minor injuries, wonwoo is down HORRENDOUS, reader is in denial about her feelings, our bad boi is soft for one (1) person, mutual pining, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation, mating press, aftercare
ㅤ→ continuation of this timestamp
A/N: here’s a little something to celebrate one year with this blog. very grateful to all my followers and mutuals who’ve made this past year amazing! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
Wonwoo glares at his phone, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in annoyance.
It’s been a week. An entire fucking week without hearing from you. He knew he should’ve ignored Jihoon’s calls and stayed in bed with you that night, but when he sent a message saying the entire crew needed to be there, he couldn’t ignore it. Now, he really wishes he would have.
The night he spent with you was the most incredible of his life, and now he might never relive it because he left in a haste, only leaving you with a brief kiss and a promise to come back.
“You still torn up over that sweet lil’ thing from that flower shop?” Seungcheol's voice has never sounded more irritating than it does now.
“That’s Shua’s girl, dumbass.”
Being on the receiving end of that mean tone and angry glare doesn’t faze Seungcheol in the slightest. In fact, it only causes his infamous smirk to get wider. To see the stoic Jeon Wonwoo acting up over a girl is not only a rarity, but it’s also really fucking funny. That’s why he can’t resist pushing Wonwoo’s buttons further.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seungcheol cackles. “Guess you better hurry up and help us finish this shit. Her shift ends soon.”
Wonwoo can feel his irritation near that boiling point he could usually avoid. Of course Seungcheol knows about your schedule. That asshole has the annoying habit of knowing everything about anyone who is even the tiniest bit associated with the crew. Sure, it’s for precautionary reasons, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Nonetheless, Wonwoo focuses on the task at hand so he can catch you before you leave work.
Jeon Wonwoo is the bane of your existence.
From the moment he first came around with that stupidly attractive smirk of his, your life was never the same. And now that you fucked him, it never will be again.
Giving into your carnal desires isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but getting mixed up with the likes of Jeon Wonwoo definitely is. Despite not knowing all of the grimy details, you know he’s bad news. You can see all the red flags clearly—the people he hangs around, all the fights he gets in, and the tattoos littering his body. And yet, none of those warning signs mattered now or when Wonwoo was ravishing you in a way that still made your toes curl just by thinking about it.
Maybe the worst part of it all is that you can’t get the resident bad boy out of your head, or the way he held you after you two had sex. It’s like you can still feel how he nuzzled into your neck, strong arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let you go. Part of you hopes that he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t had some urgent business to take care of. It’s a dangerous thought, but even so you can’t help but crave that uncharacteristically sweet side of him that he presumably only showed you.
A displeased sigh comes out of you as you gather your things to go home. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop thinking about Wonwoo, but to think that you’re actually pining over him even though he literally disappeared after your night together is—
“Y/N left already.”
It’s Mingyu’s voice you hear at first, and it makes you stop in your tracks. You wonder who could be asking for you until you hear someone answer him. It feels like your heart is going to jump out of your chest when you hear a familiar deep voice that has your stupid pussy clenching in anticipation.
“Alright. Thanks.”
You peek out from the back when you hear the door chime. It’s annoying that your chest tightens when you see a set of wide shoulders draped in a leather jacket walking toward the large motorcycle parked outside. The way your mind goes blank yet is also clogged with nothing but thought of Wonwoo is infuriating. You don’t realize you’re pouting at the exit until Mingyu jumps back in shock at seeing your sulking figure.
“Y/N what– I thought you left!” He says, vaguely gesturing behind him. “You just missed your boyfriend! I think he wanted to take you home—”
“Boyfriend?” You interrupt him, not entirely angry or disgusted that your coworker had referred to Wonwoo as such.
Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah? The scary dude with the leather jacket that comes in here all the time just to see you. He’s your boyfriend, right?”
It’s almost mortifying that your sweet but oblivious coworker can tell that there was something going on between you and the resident bad boy. And yet, there’s also a part of you that likes the fact that Wonwoo is so obvious about his feelings. You don’t know what to make of these conflicting emotions that you can’t seem to shake, and seeing Wonwoo (even just the back of him) didn’t help you find the clarity you so desperately need.
“Well, even if he’s not, he definitely wants to fuck you.” Mingyu says with a wink as he brushes past you to check on the pastries he had put in the oven ten minutes ago.
You wonder how he would react if you told him that Wonwoo already has.
Wonwoo thinks you’re the cutest person ever. And the part of you he finds the most cute? The fact that you actually think he’s going to let you avoid him forever. You’re good at it, he’ll give you that (even if he can see right through your every method).
It’s funny that you actually change your off days and regular working hours just to avoid seeing him and throw him off, which it does—at first. He knows you haven’t quit because Josh mentioned seeing you at the bakery when he went to buy the love of his life a cake for her birthday. This is confirmed when he goes to see for himself the next day.
Maybe you don’t realize Wonwoo can see you run to the back through the large glass windows when you hear his motorcycle, but either way he thinks it’s funny. Actually, it’s hilarious because soon enough you were going to give into him like before.
Meanwhile, you feel like a mouse being preyed on by a sly cat—one that’s toying with you before he finally catches you. Avoiding Wonwoo had been easy at first, but now you’re starting to wonder if he had let it seem easy.
“Babydoll.”
You almost drop a tray of croissants when you hear a familiar deep voice calling for you. The way you whip around with a gaping mouth must be hilarious because Wonwoo just smirks at you in that infuriating way that drives you crazy. Your hands tighten around the tray as you snap your mouth closed, trying to contemplate on how to navigate the situation.
With a bit of a mental pep talk, you finally manage to put up that happy to help attitude you usually had with every other customer. The smile you give him feels exaggerated and fake, but it’s the only way you can mask all the emotions you’re feeling.
“What can I get for you?”
That devilish smirk widens as Wonwoo pretends to skim all the delicious pastries in the case before he sets his smoldering eyes back on you. “This all looks good,” he muses quietly, but you can hear him perfectly since it’s only you two. “But I think you’re the only thing that can satisfy my hunger.”
It kills you that his words make you heat up from the inside out. You ignore him and start to put the croissants into the case. The clench of your jaw is tight and bordering on painful, but it’s the only way you can keep your emotions from spilling over for him to see.
Unfortunately, your lack of response doesn’t really faze him. One thing you’ve come to learn about Wonwoo is that he’s never uncomfortable in the silence. You wish you could say the same. You’re nearly squirming by the time you’re done placing the croissants in their designated space because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you once.
Finally, you look up to meet Wonwoo’s gaze. It’s so intense that you almost want to look away. However, there’s a part of you that loves being under the heat of his stare since you can clearly see the desire he has for you.
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“You’ve been gone.” You counter, vaguely aware that you sound like a sulking girlfriend.
Wonwoo realizes this too because he gently coos at you. “Missed me, babydoll?”
Yes. “You wish.”
It’s obvious Wonwoo doesn’t believe you. That stupid smirk of his only seems to get bigger with every passing moment, and you don’t know if you want to kiss it or smack it off his face.
“I missed you.” He tells you honestly, loving how you’re visibly growing flustered with his words.
Resisting him would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so tempting to you and if the feelings he always evoked from you weren’t so strong. Before you can say anything to betray your easily crumbling facade, Mingyu comes out from the back with a tray of small cakes. Wonwoo gives you a once over before stepping away from the case.
“I’ll be back after your shift. Wait for me.”
You don’t wait for him—technically. It’s not waiting since Wonwoo is already outside of the bakery when your shift ends. He’s clad in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and signature combat boots. It’s not fair that he can lean against his bike so casually while looking as good as ever.
Ignoring him would’ve been all too easy, but you can’t when you notice the bruises and cuts on his pretty face. A familiar irritation bubbles in your chest, but annoyingly enough, it’s overpowered by the concern you feel. You react before you can fully think your actions through.
“What the hell!”
Wonwoo’s eyes widen the tiniest bit when you stomp over to him with angry tears in your eyes. You can’t even enjoy his cute shocked face because of the overwhelming concern and anger you feel. All you can do is hit his brawny chest in frustration.
“You—You asshole!” Your voice cracks with raw emotion as you continue to weakly hit his chest. “You said– you promised that you weren’t going to fight anymore—!”
Wonwoo lets you hit him. His chest aches, but not because of your soft blows. The last thing he meant to do was make you cry, and it’s something he wishes to never see again. His large hands come up to cup your face, fingers delicately wiping your tears. “I know I should’ve kept my promise, and I’m sorry. Just please don’t cry anymore.”
You let out a quiet whimper at his tenderness. His eyes are full of so much remorse and concern that it makes any remaining willpower you have left disappear. It feels right to bury yourself in his chest and let yourself be held by him. He caresses your back, and you can’t hate that it actually makes you feel better.
Once you’ve calmed down, you pull back and smack Wonwoo’s beefy chest again. “Asshole.”
“Your asshole.” His haze is tender as he cradles your tearstained cheek in his hand.
You scowl at him, but it’s quickly wiped off your face when he places a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. A sudden desire consumes you when you see Wonwoo’s affectionate gaze. This time you let yourself be driven by your desire and press your lips against his.
It’s easy for him to melt into the kiss. Wonwoo sighs into your mouth as one of his hands comes up to cup your face. His rings feel cool against your warm skin, and you let out a quiet moan when his other hand slips into the back pocket of your jeans and squeezes your ass while pulling you closer to him.
The kiss is slow at first until your hands smooth over Wonwoo’s chest and fist his shirt to pull him closer. You part your lips to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. It feels like you got struck by a bolt of electricity the longer his lips are on yours. His desire and hunger are evident in his needy movement, and you absolutely love it.
When you two finally pull away, you’re left breathless. Wonwoo’s thumb gently caresses your cheek as his heart pounds harshly in his chest. “Stay the night with me, babydoll.”
“M’kay.” You breathe out, mind still swimming.
The smile he gives you is so pretty that it makes something inside you burn with ardent desire. You feel like you’re floating on air when Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet that happens to be your favorite color. He looks bashful as he waits for you to accept it, and you wish you could take a picture of his pretty blush.
In spite of all the reasons you have not to take the helmet from him, you still do. And you don’t regret it.
You’ve never allowed yourself to regret the things that you’ve done because life is too short for regrets. But you definitely regret avoiding Wonwoo as long as you have, especially with the way he’s trailing his lips along your legs. Every wet kiss he leaves behind has your heart hammering and your cunt clenching in want.
Finally, Wonwoo gets to your inner thighs. His large hands spread you open with ease, eyes dark when he sees your wet pussy.
“Fuck.” His gaze fixed between your legs as if he's in a trance. “You’re already so wet.”
Your toes curl when his breath ghosts over your cunt. It sends delicious shivers throughout your body, and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips into his face. But as you’re starting to learn, it seems like Wonwoo knows what you want before you even ask for it.
“You want my mouth, babydoll?”
Wonwoo nearly blows his load when you nod cutely, a needy mewl escaping your lips. “Please.”
He hooks your legs over his wide shoulders, thumbs spreading your folds open for his viewing pleasure. Wonwoo resists his ravenous desire for you long enough to toy with your pretty pussy before he actually tastes it—a luxury he hadn’t gotten to do last time. His rough hands are soon occupied with you, one hand pinching and flicking your sensitive clit while the other gently rubs your slippery folds.
“Fuck, baby.” You whine, biting down on your lower lip. “Feels so good.”
Your cunt is dripping with so much of your arousal that Wonwoo’s fingers are drenched as he slowly rubs circles against your aching bud. It’s throbbing and pulsing in need as his pace grows the tiniest bit quicker. You can’t even try to contain your moans as you stare down at your boyfriend.
Wonwoo has a huge smirk on his pink lips. You’re making such a mess on his fingers, and he just loves it. “You look so fucking cute when your squirm like this, babydoll.”
A needy whimper tumbles past your lips when he presses a gentle kiss to your throbbing clit. It pulses under the attention like it wants his mouth again. Wonwoo’s pupils are blown wide as he licks the remnants of your arousal off his lips. The addicting taste makes his control snap, and in the next second he smashes his face into your cunt like a starved man.
Your hips start move on their own as Wonwoo groans deeply into your drooling pussy. His mouth latches onto your clit, massaging the nub with his tongue. The movements are skilled and toe-curling, and you already feel like you’re fucked out.
“Wonwoo!” You cry out in absolute pleasure when he slips two fingers inside you.
His long fingers work your cunt open, curling up to rub the sensitive spot inside you that made you arch your back in ecstasy. Your mouth is dropped open in a silent min the longer Wonwoo fucks you with his tongue. He captures your juices with his tongue only to slobber them all over you again. Your hands grab ahold of his hair as he keeps moaning into your wet pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine with every one of his movements.
All it takes his his nose bumping against your clit as he licks around his pumping digits for you to come all over his face. Wonwoo groans into your creamy cunt, licking up every drop of your release.
“So fucking messy.” He grunts as his hand spreads your folds and exposes your heat to the cool air. His fingers trail down your cunt, tenderly rubbing along your sensitive lips. “Fuck, just look at that cream."
You can’t contain your needy moan when Wonwoo brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s so fucking hot that you just want him to fuck you until you can’t think. Before you can get him to do exactly that, a heavy weight settles on your soppy cunt. His cock is hot and wet as it slides between your folds.
“You feel so good, angel.” Wonwoo groans as he thrusts forward, coating the underside of his dick with your arousal. “So fucking wet, just for me.”
The mouthwatering sight of your folds splitting open as he slides his cock between them makes him feel like he’s drunk. Maybe he is. Drunk on your pussy, that is. He only gets to enjoy the feeling for a second before you eagerly buck your hips against his.
“Let me ride you.”
It’s a miracle that Wonwoo doesn’t come all over your stomach at the words you moaned so desperately. He’s quick to get into position, leaning against his headboard as you hover above him. You look so eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumbs over them.
Wonwoo’s free hand reaches for your ass. He roughly kneads the skin before slapping it. You moan out in pleasure. Everything is almost too much for you to handle. The sight of him bellow you waiting patiently for you to fuck him like the first time is making your core throb with insatiable desire. His cock rests on his stomach, leaking with precum and waiting for you to sit on it.
The hottest part of it all is how Wonwoo’s looking at you with unadulterated desire and affection—like you’re a living goddess on top of him. Your hands are splayed over his muscular chest, and he just loves the feeling of them smoothing over his hot skin.
His hands move on their own, caressing your hips and mapping out every inch of your body with his rough hands. Wonwoo kisses any part of you he can reach, lips trailing from your neck down to your collarbones. His large hands slip back to your ass to deliver a sharp spank which makes you fall forward. Wonwoo skillfully captures one of your tits in his mouth, tongue immediately gliding over your hardened nipple.
“Nonu!” You cry out as your arms hook over his shoulders to keep him close, softly moaning as he switches between your tits, warm tongue swirling around each erect nub.
The cute little nickname makes his cock twitch. Fuck. You were going to drive him completely insane.
He gently nips at your sensitive bud before pulling away to look up at you. “You look so fucking pretty on top of me, babydoll.” He murmurs, forcing himself to stay still as you shift against his leaking tip.
His sweet praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. You mewl as he teasingly circles his cock against your pussy. The insistent nudges from his leaking head are making your head swim with pleasure. You’re so soaked at this point that he can feel your arousal start to stick to his skin.
Finally, you can’t resist any longer and slowly sink down on his cock. Your tight walls stretch wide, welcoming the bulbous head with just a bit of resistance. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’d already forgotten it felt to have such big and thick dick inside you. His cock isn’t even halfway inside yet, and you can nearly feel him in your stomach.
You sit back and slowly circle your hips, throwing your head back with a moan when his twitching tip nudges your walls repeatedly. Wonwoo feels like he’s gone and died to heaven with the filthy show you’re giving him of your soppy cunt. He curses quietly at the sight of your tight cunt clinging to his fat tip, nearly blowing his load at the erotic sight.
“Show me what you can do, pretty girl.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a wanton moan and your hands braced behind you, you slide all the way down. You whimper at the stretch, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Mewls flutter from your lips, and it feels like the oxygen is slowly being forced out of your lungs.
Once he’s fully inside you, Wonwoo is sure that he’s never going to feel as good as he does now. His head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him is absolute heaven. You share in his feeling as you moan loudly, completely full and stretched out as he grips your ass to steady you on his dick.
Wonwoo can’t stop looking at the fucked out look on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. You don’t notice how his pupils are blown out with lust at the sight of you impaled on his cock. His heart fluttering in his chest because fuck, you’re like a literal goddess on top of him.
“Shit, babydoll. You gotta move.” He sounds out of breath, almost needy with his plea.
Wonwoo looks so fucked out and pretty that your pussy tightens around him at the hot sight. That's all it takes for you to give him what he wants. You lift your hips before slamming your ass back down. His cock reaches so deep inside you that you throw you head back with a loud cry. It makes you ravenous, and you eagerly repeat your movements until your practically bouncing on his cock.
You lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a bit when your lips meet his neck. As you litter his skin with wet kisses and gentle bites, you feel his cock throb and twitch inside you. It makes you think that you might actually get him to come first this time.
At least, until Wonwoo commits the tender act of pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.
“Fuck, Nonu.” You whimper at the stimulation. “You’re so deep.”
“Missed having you on my cock, babydoll. You look so fucking pretty being split open like this.” His fingers trace your stretched hole before they slap your clit.
You moan wantonly when Wonwoo suddenly thrusts up, going impossibly deeper. That’s when you know he's about to ruin you in the way you’ve been craving. You shove your face into his neck, sucking and biting his skin so he can move you on his cock in the way he wants. Apparently, this isn’t enough for him, though.
Wonwoo grips your face, pressing his fingers into your cheeks. “Need to see your pretty face while I fuck you stupid.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s gripping your ass and grinding you on his cock. His fingertips press into your soft flesh as he lifts you and brings you down his length. You start bouncing to meeting his pumps. Broken mewls contrast with Wonwoo’s groans and mix in the the sound of lewd squelching and skin slapping. His abs tighten every time you come back down, thighs flexing beneath your ass.
Your swollen clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, and the feeling is quickly driving you insane. The knot in your stomach is coming undone fast, much faster than you want, but you feel too good to stop. Wonwoo isn’t doing much better. His mind is only full of you and the way your hot cunt is gripping his cock. The carnal look in his eye is locked to where you’re connected. He’s mesmerized with strings of arousal connecting his skin to your dripping folds.
“You look so fucking pretty when you’re bouncing on my cock—just like last time. Gonna let me pump your pretty pussy full again, babydoll?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out mindlessly, a delicious ache blooming in your core. “Whatever you want!”
You can’t believe Wonwoo has the audacity to blush like you two aren’t literally fucking like animals. It makes you gush around him, orgasm so close that you can feel it in every inch of your body.
“God, baby. Keep fucking yourself stupid on my dick.” He growls as he fucks up into you harder, needing to see you come undone on his cock.
The leaking tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot over and over again until your eyes gloss over like you’re on the brink of tears. Wonwoo will never get enough of that fucked out face of yours, and it drives that insatiable desire in him to fuck you impossibly harder.
It takes only a few more deep thrusts for you to come on his cock with a loud moan. Your body shudders and shakes against him in absolute pleasure. Wonwoo’s movements don't stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and straight into overstimulation. But you can’t really care because it feels so fucking good. All you can do is cry out his name until he’s emptying his balls inside you.
“Y/N!” He groans into your ear as he pumps you full of his hot cum, thick ropes filling you to the brim until it’s leaking out and coating his heavy sack.
You’re gently grinding into each other as your mouths meet for a messy kiss. Wonwoo’s still-hard cock keeps twitching inside you, and you can’t help but groan into his mouth at the feeling.
“More.” You plead against his lips. “Want you to keep stuffing me full of your cum.”
“Fuck, angel.” Wonwoo pants out. “You’ll be the death of me.”
But if this was death, he’d gladly embrace it every time.
Wonwoo moves down the bed until his back meets the messy sheets. With his hands secured on your waist and the back of your neck, he pulls you down to his chest and forces you to take every inch of his throbbing cock. At this angle, he feels even thicker. Your mind goes blank as his fat dick spears into your tight hole relentlessly.
Wet noises fill the room, dancing in the air with your wanton cries. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, smearing down to his loaded sack. Wonwoo moans along with you, large hands sliding down your body to grip fistfuls of your ass. You let out a broken gasp when he grinds up and pulls you down, stuffing you to the brim only to do it again and again.
You’re panting and whimpering as his cock sinks in deep, plugging your dripping cunt. Tingles of ecstasy course through your quivering body with ever snap of his hips. You aren’t even moving anymore, it’s all Wonwoo. He’s fucking you on his cock like you're his personal fucktoy. The more you think about it like that, the more turned on you’re getting.
Your hot cunt tightens around his veiny cock. The drag of his veiny length stretching you out makes more of your juices coat his dick and spill down to his heavy balls. Wonwoo shudders when he feels how tight you keep getting. He can feel his own high quickly approaching.
“You gonna come for me again, babydoll? Soak my cock with your cream and make a mess all over me?” Wonwoo changes the angle of his hips as he speaks his lewd words. The tip of his cock slams into the soft spot inside you that makes you scream in pleasure. He keeps pounding into you from below without stopping, and you love every second of it.
“Fucking love your cock.” You babble mindlessly, any and every thought that’s not about the fat cock splitting you open being fucked out of you.
“Sweet little cunt is all mine now.” Wonwoo growls possessively. “Gonna be mine forever, right, baby?”
It’s all too much. His filthy yet sweet words combined with his fierce thrusts make you fall over that edge and into your orgasm, this one more powerful than the last. Your body erupts in flames as you squirt all over Wonwoo’s aching cock. He keeps you locked on his dick, balls slapping against your ass as he continues to pound into your gushing cunt.
“So fucking good.” Wonwoo groans gutturally before his hot cum floods your ruined cunt, painting your stretched out walls and claiming you in every sense of the word.
So much of his cum spills out and trickles down his pulsing cock, and you whimper when Wonwoo fucks it deeper into your pussy. You’re both sweaty and sticky, yet there’s still a burning ache in your core that seems like it can only be soothes by Wonwoo and his big cock.
“Want it again.” You moan into his ear, clenching down on his twitching dick. “Please.”
This is where you learn that the resident bad boy can never tell you no.
You barely process him flipping you over and manhandling you into the position he wants. Wonwoo presses your legs against your chest and start to pound into you with rough thrusts. He’s slow but brutish, slamming against your cervix every time he pushes in. Your cream soaks his thick cock and your inner thighs. It slowly drips down to your ass where his heavy balls slap against the tender skin.
“Fuck, babydoll. I’ll never get enough of this tight little pussy.” He sounds so gone, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust.
You cry out each time, the pleasure blooming into that delicious feeling in your stomach. Wonwoo’s words have you clenching around his dick, and he lets out a deep groan. He keeps moaning out praises about how good you are for him, but it’s hard to focus on his words when his thick cock is pummeling into you relentlessly.
You continuously gush around Wonwoo’s cock on the brink of yet another orgasm as you leave a stain around the base. Your pussy is stretched beyond belief, and it feels so fucking good that’s it’s making you delirious.
“I’m gonna have to stuff this pretty pussy full every day.” Wonwoo moans, loving how your cunt keeps spasming around his throbbing cock. He’s fantasised about this for so long, and now that he’s had you he’s completely addicted to you.
“Fuh-Fuck!” You wail, soaking his cock even more at his promise, leaving it dripping.
Wonwoo’s thrusts grow more powerful and ravenous. The pretty sounds you’re letting out every time he drives in and out of you is driving him insane. It’s not long for the harsh snapping of his hips to finally send you into your climax. This one is more somehow more intense than your previous one. Wonwoo groans loudly, watching as you squirt all over his cock.
Each time Wonwoo strokes your g-spot, another gush of liquid spurts from your core. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Making a mess all over my cock.”
“Come inside me.” You beg with a loud moan, mind already so far gone to think about anything else but being fucked full of his hot cum.
Your lewd plea only drives his desire for you. Wonwoo feels his orgasm approaching with every rough thrust. His balls are aching to be emptied again, and he doesn’t hesitate to chase that euphoric feeling. Your pussy is practically begging him to fill you up with his seed, and he does exactly that. With one final shove, he bottoms out inside you and stills, cock twitching and throbbing in your hot cunt.
A huge load of cum pours into you, coating your walls and taking up the minimal space his cock hasn’t covered. Wonwoo slowly fucks it into you until you’re both whimpering from the overstimulation.
When he pulls out, his cum and your cream slowly leak out of your messy cunt. The fucked out pants you’re letting out are quickly stifled by Wonwoo's lips. You moan into his mouth as he slowly lets go of your legs and hooks them around his hips.
Pulling away, you barely register as he starts to tenderly kiss all over your body. You’re completely sated and too gone to acknowledge your surroundings even as Wonwoo gets up and brings back a warm towel. He gently cleans you up, whispering sweet praises that make you feel a different type of euphoria.
“Hold me, Nonu.” You finally manage to say when you realize he’s done cleaning the both of you up.
His smile is so pretty and precious as he goes to lay with you. The way he cradles you against his chest is comforting, and you know that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! — 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒚𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊. ˒ ⊹
me and my roommate get drunk one night and end up fucking!!!! oh my god, this is so awkward…
୨ৎ syn. it’s your final year of uni—after midterms come to a close, you decide to celebrate by getting absolutely SMASHED with your roommate, itadori yuuji. much to your chagrin, this decision comes with a boatload of consequences. how do you navigate the awkward morning after with your golden retriever of a roommate!? (4.8k)
୨ৎ pairing. itadori yuuji x f!reader
୨ৎ cw. modern au, fem!reader, both yuuji and reader are in their final year of uni and are implied to be 21+, alcohol mentions, drunk sex, dubious consent (read prev warning), pet names used (baby, pretty, angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, dealing w/ the repercussions of fucking your roommate the morning after (but it ended up alot more fluffier and romantic than i intended because i love him), minors + ageless blogs dni! 18+ content under the cut!!
୨ৎ love, oak! oh christ almighty. i like itadori yuuji a normal amount. i just really really think he'd make the perfect boyfriend ever. first time writing for him so hoping and praying he isn’t incredibly ooc but regardless,, hope u guys like this i wrote it with my entire clit :3 crossposted to ao3 here!
[ main m.list! ┊coming soon... ]
“Yuu~ji!”
Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.
“You there? Yu?”
You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.
Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.
You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.
“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”
With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.
“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”
Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”
Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”
You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).
Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.
You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.
“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.
Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.
It’s cute. He’s cute.
“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”
He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.
You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.
As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.
There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.
But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.
Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.
“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.
Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.
“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”
“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”
“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”
The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.
Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.
“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.
Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”
Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.
He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.
“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.
“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.
“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.
“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.
Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—
—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”
Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.
When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.
“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.
It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.
“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.
You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.
You don’t care.
Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.
Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.
He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.
“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”
His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.
“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”
Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.
You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”
You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”
Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.
“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.
“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.
“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”
He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”
Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”
He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”
“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”
Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.
Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.
“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.
The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.
“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.
He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.
“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”
He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.
He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.
Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”
His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.
“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.
“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.
“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.
Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.
“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”
As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.
You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”
“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.
Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.
“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.
Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.
“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.
“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.
A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.
“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”
Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.
But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.
You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.
You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.
“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”
Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.
“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.
That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.
You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.
You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.
Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.
“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”
Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.
Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.
“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”
You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”
Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?
All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”
Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”
“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“
Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.
“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“
Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.
Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.
“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”
You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.
“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”
“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.
“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”
You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”
He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.
“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.
“What?”
“I said—”
“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”
You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”
Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”
You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.
As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!
#☆ oakie writes#jjk smut#jjk x reader#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuji x reader#yuji itadori x reader#yuuji itadori x reader#itadori yuji smut#yuji itadori smut#yuuji itadori smut#itadori yuuji smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#cw alcohol#dividers by cafekitsune
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"sure thing"
pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader
summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out?
content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare.
a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples
welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!
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“Who?!”
No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.
“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.
“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.
“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.
You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”
Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.”
You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.
“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.
“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.
He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”
Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”
He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”
You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.
Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.
“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”
Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.
“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.
“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.
~
It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.
You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.
You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.
It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.
You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.
You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.
You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.
You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.
The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.
The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.
You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.
You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.
You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.
You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.
“Hey, Dean,” you call.
He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.
“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.
Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.
“Yeah. Long day at work.”
A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”
You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.
“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.
Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.
You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”
His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”
You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”
There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”
You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.
You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.
The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.
You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.
“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.
Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.
You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.
You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”
His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.
“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.
He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.
You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.
“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?
You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.
You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.
“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.
His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”
His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”
Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.
There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.
“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.
You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.
You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”
A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”
You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”
You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.
He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…
“So, what’s your technique”
You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.
“Bet I could find out.”
That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”
He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”
You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”
You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.
“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…
You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”
His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”
Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.
“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.
You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”
Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.
“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.
He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”
The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.
When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”
You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.
Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.
He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.
He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.
You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.
You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.
“That was Versace,” he whines.
You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.
“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.
His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.
He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.
A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.
Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.
You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.
You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.
Now. Now, while he’s not looking.
You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.
You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…
You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.
Fuck.
He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.
“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together��” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.
This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.
You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.
You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.
He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”
You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.
You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”
He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.
His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”
You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.
“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.
Your lips part. “You knew?”
That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”
Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.
But you have one thing on him.
“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”
There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”
You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”
His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”
You freeze. He notices.
He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”
Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”
He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.
“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”
Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.
“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”
Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.
His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.
“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.
You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.
His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.
“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”
You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.
“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”
He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.
“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.
There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.
“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”
He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”
You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.
He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.
He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.
Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.
His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.
“I think you like this, gorgeous.”
Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”
He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”
He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.
You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.
Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.
“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.
“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.
“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.
God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.
You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.
Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.
It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.
He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”
Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you
You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.
“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.
A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.
“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.
“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.
He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.
“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”
He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.
You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.
“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”
You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.
Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”
You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.
A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”
His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.
A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.
“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.
He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”
His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.
“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.
“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.
You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.
You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.
You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.
“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”
You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”
His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.
You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.
“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.
“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.
He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”
You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”
He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”
You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.
You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”
You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”
His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”
You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.
There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.
“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.
“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.
He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”
You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.
“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.
He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”
There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”
He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”
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9:20 AM.
Jungkook (your boyfriend) knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body.
pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, teasing, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, marking, jungkook has a tongue piercing, fingering, oral (f receiving), mentions of crying (from pleasure), female orgasm words: 1.2k
**old repost from my deleted blog
You were excited for your boyfriend to come back home from his morning jog. You woke up after he did and he left the cutest little handwritten note on the refrigerator. It said on the note that he went out for his morning jog and is heading to the market after to pick a few things up for tonight’s dinner. You smile at his note and thought it was so sweet how he could’ve just sent a simple text but wanted to go the extra mile by handwriting a note for you. Deciding to do your own thing while he’s gone, you pick a romantic comedy movie to watch on Netflix to pass the time. Patiently waiting for Jungkook to arrive back home, you heard the door suddenly unlock and hurry to get up to go leave out of your room.
“JUNGKOOK!” You shout eagerly, almost pouncing on him once he gets through the door.
“Y/n, my baby girl,” He greets you back with a doting smile, wrapping his arms around your waist, encasing himself into you.
You wasted no time to start kissing him, immediately going in to grab his pretty face with both of your hands, crashing your lips into his. He must’ve been thinking about doing this all day because once you two start making out, he carries you straight into both of your guy’s bedroom and places you gently onto the bed.
Jungkook knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body. He’d begin by peppering your jaw and neck with a plethora of kisses, leaving a faint trail of hickies behind. He’d also be rubbing your inner thigh with his large hands that always turn you on every time you look at them. The prominent veins on his hands and arms when he flexes just a teensy bit is enough to make you cum in your panties.
“I love you so much,” Jungkook murmurs against your skin, still kissing and sucking on your neck as if he’s a vampire.
“Love you too koo— fuck…” Your response was interrupted by what he was doing to you next. Jungkook’s tattooed hand makes its way down to the tight shorts you were wearing. The shorts were pink and had a cute hello kitty design on them, Jungkook was the one who bought them for you actually. He’s always loved seeing you in the clothes he bought for you over the years, acting like a little kid on Christmas.
Jungkook is rubbing you over your shorts and the friction is driving you absolutely insane. You can just feel how wet you’re becoming, the juices from your heat start to overflow; seeping through your panties and he feels you throbbing on his fingers. He’s got a sinister look on his face and you already know that means you’re in for something amazing to make your morning.
“Sheesh baby, look how wet your pussy’s getting…” Jungkook looks in awe, hissing at the sight of a giant wet spot forming in your panties after he took off your tight skimpy shorts.
Jungkook begins caressing, kissing, and licking your lower body, touching every curve and crevice of you, not missing a single spot. His touch is so gentle, so warm, so inviting. His tongue rolls along the inside of your thigh, the steel metal of his tongue piercing feels cold but the sensation tingles down your spine. Flinching from the action he performed, he notices straight away, eyebrows raised in a sudden stir of confusion.
“You okay baby?” He asks softly before continuing, wanting to make sure nothing he did hurt you.
“Y-yes, just feeling a little sensitive that’s all…” You say quietly.
You feel him smile against your soft flesh, planting more wet kisses against yours thighs and laid his head there for a while to feel your warmth.
“I could be like this all day y’know?” He basks in your presence, speaking in a mumbled tone, half his face still buried in your thighs.
“I know koo.”
Jungkook raises his head a tiny bit just to face your clothed pussy again. He couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot, bringing his face—specifically his nose, closer to you to get a whiff of your sweet aroma. He practically buries his nose into your panties and drags it down your slit.
“You smell so good..” He was intoxicated by your scent, loving the natural, but fragrant essence.
He licks a stripe to your clothed core, making you moan out loud and bring your hand to latch onto his fluffy hair. You love to play with it and make it a mess of his hair after he’s done giving you the best head of your life.
“You taste really good too babe,” Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you, he was literally drunk off your pussy.
You were so desperate for him to take your panties off as you were starting to make more of a sticky mess in them but he seemed to be enjoying it more that way. He wanted to prolong the action of coming into contact with your bare pussy. He wanted to tease you so much until you were begging for him to touch your clit. You wanted nothing but his tongue against your wet folds right now.
“J-jungkook…” You mutter so lowly, he almost couldn’t hear you.
“Hmm, what’s my name baby?” He asks while still teasing your entrance, now sliding one of his fingers inside your floral panties.
“Jungkook!” You moan louder this time, feeling somewhat better that you’re almost getting to where you want to be.
“Want you to scream my name for hours, can you do that for me babydoll?” He asks in a serious tone, pushing his finger in and out of your soaked cunt.
You nod submissively, “o-okay daddy..” arching your back against the bed from the amazing feeling, Jungkook knows exactly how to use his fingers on you.
He kept fingering you harder and deeper until you look him in the eyes and visibly start to tear up from all the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s so good but so unbearable at the same time. He made you feel like you were in heaven, crying out his name, just saying “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook” on repeat whilst he’s finger fucking you. He’s scissoring your tight hole from the inside out and your juices were now running so far down your legs. You were super close to your orgasm and he could tell by the contorted face you were making.
“Jungkook… Jungkook.. fuck I’m gonna cum!” You scream for him, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your vision was going insanely blurry.
“Yeah baby that’s it, just relax…cum for daddy,” Jungkook coaxes you through it, encouraging you to reach your high but still adding slight pressure to your clit. You couldn’t take it anymore, just letting go and being in eternal bliss as you reached your climax. You moaned his name a couple more times and he called you his good girl for cumming when he told you to. You went back to making out and he was now massaging your boobs.
“You’re really horny today, huh?” You ask Jungkook, stifling a giggle at his overly naughty behavior.
“The real question should be when am I not horny whenever I’m with you y/n..” Jungkook shamelessly admits, grabbing your face once again to kiss you harder.
At least you can say you don’t have issues with satisfying your man in the bedroom !
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook drabbles#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagine#jungkook drabble#jungkook x female reader#jungkook imagines#jungkook x f reader#jungkook fic#bts x reader#bts x fem!reader
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cramps
pairing: matt x reader
summary: you’re on your period and matt does anything and everything to soothe the pain away
warnings: fluff! period cramps, romance, care, reassurance, wholesome, pet names (sweet/pretty girl)
word count: 717
i toss and turn as i feel my pre period cramps start to form
my period is not suppose to come for another 5 days but my cramps always come first, as a warning
i check raise my head to check the clock and see what time it is
“4:15 am” i see on the tv’s cable box
i lay my head back down and continue to shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position for my cramps to relax in
“baby what’s wrong?” matt asks me with his raspy morning voice
“my period is coming soon, i feel the cramps start to overTAKE me” i say in soft annoyed tone
“is there anything i could do to help baby?” he concerns
“can you actually go get me my heating pad please?” i ask nicely
he hops out the bed and uses the flashlight off his phone to roam around the room and look for my heating pad
once he pulls it in comes back to bed, i hear him gasp
“what?” i jump in shock at his gasp
“your period.. came”
i sit up to see what he’s talking about and see a whole bloody mess stained into our bedsheets
“oh my god” i put my head in my hands out of annoyance and embarrassment
“it’s okay baby. i just need you to stand up for me okay?”
i get off the bed and start to feel the water works fall out
“don’t cry baby” matt says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around me
“hey it’s not your fault baby” he tries to reassure
“you can’t help it.. you didn’t know, it’s completely fine. you don’t have to cry, sweet girl” he continues as he starts to play with my hair in the hug
i pull back and start to wipe my eyes as i start to sense that im being dramatic
“here baby, i need you to go wash up while i clean the bed”
i nod my head and make my way to the bathroom
“and hand me your clothes before you go in the shower please”
i do as i’m told then i head to the shower
i continue to wash up as i hear matt enter the bathroom
“hey pretty girl, everything still okay?” he asks
“yeah, i’m just finishing up” i sluggishly say
“okay baby. i changed our sheets and im washing the other ones now” he reassures
i stay silent out of acknowledgment but he doesn’t leave
“is there anything else you want princess?” he asks
“no thank you” i say while shaking my head as if he could see me
“alright..” he says before closing the door
i could tell he feels bad but i just really can’t be bothered rn. my stomach hurts, i embarrassed myself, im so annoyed, and i feel bad that he feels bad.. there’s just too much going on
i finish up my shower and put my towel on before heading back to the bedroom
when i get back i see matt had turned on the led lights, switched the tv to netflix, and had my tylenol bottle set up next to some water
“matt what is this?”
“nothing much. just me trying to distract you from your period” he giggles
“that’s not how it works sadly” i pout as i pop the tylenol in my mouth and swallow some water
“well, im gonna try” he comes in for a kiss
i start to get dressed, not forgetting the pad, as matt searches for a good movie to watch.
“do you want some to eat pretty?”
“is anything even open right now?” i genuinely ask
“only mcdonald’s..” he replies
“then yes please” i smile at him
“your usual?”
“yeah” i reply as i get in bed to snuggle next to him
“it’ll be here in 30 minutes” he says
“if we’re still up” i chuckle
“don’t worry. i’ll grab it for you so you can enjoy it when you wake up and not kill me for letting you fall asleep” he chuckles back
“thank you baby. i appreciate you so much, definitely a core memory” i turn over to face him
he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, “i love you, sweet girl. don’t forget it”
——————————————————————-
taglist: @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo fluff#sturniolo triplets fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo smut#sturniolo fandom#matthew sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets fanfic#nick sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#smut#chris sturniolo smut
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i’m serious about you
summary: gojo realizes just how much he likes you when you go on your first date
note: feeling a bit soft for gojo rn so pls enjoy this little scenario…it’s 2am and i just wanna write something before i go to bed <3 gojo is probably a little ooc but this is my blog so!!!
i’m a lil rusty when ur comes to writing fics but i hope u enjoy!
warnings: fluff fluff fluff + she/her pronouns
masterlist :)
“I’m surprised this place is open so late.”
You mutter absentmindedly as you look at the pastries behind the glass, face at a respectable distance while Gojo stands beside you. He leans down to see what you see, his own eye catching the chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf.
“Nanami told me about it a while ago,” he explains. “Says he likes to come here when he can’t sleep since they’re open so late.”
“Do you like this bakery?”
Gojo watches as you pick and choose which pastries you want to try. The girl behind the counter lifts her gaze to him, eyes widening before averting her gaze to the small box in her hands.
“Haven’t tried it, actually,” Gojo says. He rubs the back of his neck when you turn around. “I, uh, wanted to wait. To try it with you, I mean.”
He sees your mouth morph into a shy smile and he can’t help but return it. Gojo turns and orders a beverage from the cashier, watching as her fingers fumble with the buttons before she relays the bill.
You’re about to pull out your wallet when Gojo reacts quicker than you can comprehend. You watch as he gives his credit card to the cashier without batting an eyelash. He laughs when you huff and grumble about being able to pay for the pastries since he paid for dinner, but he bumps his hips with yours and tells you it‘s on him.
You look so perfect under the awful fluorescent lights in your best dress and hair let down. He’s not used to seeing you like this; so carefree without your worries tucked away in that pretty little head of yours.
Gojo used to think he’d make it through life without relying on anyone and that he couldn’t count on other people for his own source of happiness and companionship. But he can’t deny there’s something about you that tugs at his heart strings a bit too aggressively.
This feeling follows him to the morning prior, when he asked you to accompany him to dinner. Gojo had guessed that you liked him more than you let on but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. This new sensation in the pit of his stomach travels with him tonight, especially when he takes a step back to fully absorb the way you look in his jacket. It dwarfs your shorter stature yet Gojo thinks it was made for you to wear.
The girl behind the counter turns around to finish the order, leaving the two of you to your wits for the time being. Gojo senses that this—casual dating or otherwise—isn’t something you do often. He silently thanks Shoko for drilling him about you (likes, dislikes, who you are as a person aside from the so-called friend group you two belong in) because he sees your finger tapping against the side of your leg and decides to make a move.
“I really like spending time with you,” Gojo starts. “I could do this again and again if you let me.”
“Really?” you ask, sounding something akin to disbelief. Your dress follows your movements as you turn around but all Gojo can focus on is the way your cheeks begin to blush. How cute.
He takes a step forward, nodding. “Believe it or not, I really enjoy spending all of my money on cute girls.”
“Is that so?“ you ask with an uptick in your voice. “Wonder if I’m the cutest, then.”
Gojo knows you’re joking by the way you’re smiling at him, but he wants to set the record straight.
“You are,” he says, “because you’re the only one.”
A soft sound distracts the two of you and he looks past your shoulder to see the cashier has set his beverage on the counter. Gojo thanks her and grabs the cup when he notices notices she’s written her phone number on the back of the surface. His stomach drops when he sees your eyes linger on the penmanship.
He panics.
“I must be special.”
Your voice lacks the humor from moments prior, eyes glazing over the written numbers while Gojo pathetically stands like he’s a frozen statue. He doesn’t know why he cares what you think of him nor why he wants to disprove the theory that he can’t settle down because of an innate need to flirt with everything that breathes. He watches you swallow and avert your gaze to the exit sign when he nods furiously.
“Yeah, you are.”
Gojo throws the beverage in the trash can beside him and cups your jaw in both of his hands to pull you into a tender kiss in the middle of a poorly lit bakery with two other patrons. He thinks your lips taste like coconut and sugar, so soft that he could keep his mouth on you forever and never complain.
He must be doing something right because you’re kissing him back.
You pull away first and he laughs at your flustered state, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips before you can escape him. He pays no mind to the girl who walks into the back room.
“I’ll spend however long it takes to make you understand that I’m serious about you,” Gojo promises.
“You better send Nanami a thank you card.” You grab the box of pastries. “Taking me here was a good start.”
Yeah, he thinks. She’s the one.
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x oc#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x oc#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x oc#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru fluff#ahhh it’s been so long since i’ve written fanfics and it’s 2am#very sorry for any poor writing choices#but i hope you liked it!#<3#my writing
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Work Me Out
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: Smut, 18+
Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!
Length: ~5k
Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]
to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.
@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover
Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)
read part II
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them.
So you go as late as possible.
Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.
Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.
Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.
Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.
You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.
And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.
He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone.
But that doesn’t last long.
“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial.
“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”
Yes.
“No, I can find something else to do.”
You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.
“I don’t mind sharing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”
So that’s where he went.
“Okay, thanks.”
“No problem.”
He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch.
Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.
He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.
You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back.
“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.
“Three forty? Ouch.”
“What? Should I have made it lighter?”
“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”
“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”
He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.
This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is.
And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.
When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too.”
And he’s gone.
Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat?
And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.
Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.
Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.
His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.
When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week.
What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips.
And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.
Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit.
Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.
No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.
Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.
“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”
My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….
There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.
Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary.
But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.
And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.
“Shit,” you grunt.
Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”
“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.
“Sorry, let me just…”
The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.
“Fuck!”
“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”
Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.
“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“Oh…”
“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“
The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”
“God, you’re gross.”
Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.
“Sticks and stones,” he hums.
“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”
When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.
“Or we can go back to mine.”
He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.
From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?
The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.
“Yeah, okay.”
With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s.
All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.
Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up.
People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this.
A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.
Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.
“Ugh, this is it.”
His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.
Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?”
Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.
“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”
“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.
“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.
“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”
“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”
Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.
“Wanna give me the tour?”
Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold.
“Why are you over there?” You ask.
With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.
“I’m nervous.”
You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”
Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”
“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”
“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.
Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”
Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.
“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”
Oh.
“We don’t hav—”
“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”
You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”
Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.
Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.
He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck.
“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth.
Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.
He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.
“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.
You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”
He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.
Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.
Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.
You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.”
Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.
Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.
He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”
“Give me another and it will.”
You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.
Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.
“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.
Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.
You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.
He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.
“Sensitive?”
Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.
The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.
Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.
“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.
You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.
A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.
“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.
He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.
You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.
His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.
“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.
It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.
The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”
Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.
“Want it like this?”
“Yeah.”
You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.
The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.
No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”
Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.
“Don’t say that.”
You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.
“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager.
“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”
You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.
Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half.
“Harder,” you beg.
Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.
“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.
His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.
A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.
Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.
“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”
He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.
“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”
The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.
Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.
The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.
You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.
When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.
Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.
“Where are you going?” He pouts.
You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.
Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?
“Bathroom.”
Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.
He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case.
And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
#svthub#ksmutsociety#kvanity#svt x reader#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#kim mingyu#svt smut#seventeen smut#kim mingyu smut#🫡 highvern
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Do You Like It Here?
Joel Miller x afab!Reader || W/C: 2k
Summary: Joel contemplates shaving his beard. You are absolutely against that idea, and he makes you explain why.
Content/Warnings: Pics above are for aesthetic purposes only. Neutral descriptions of an AFAB reader (“your top”, “your shorts”, “your breast”, etc.). No use of “y/n”. Joel can carry you but there are no other descriptions of reader. Implied age gap if you squint. Joel being big and burly. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Joel being a menace. Hints of body worship. Dirty talk. Reader liking facial hair for dirty reasons🤷🏻. Joel on his knees for you…. ✨Bathroom counter✨ Cunnilingus. Tongue fucking. Face grinding. Hair pulling (m receiving). Joel’s fucking nose deserves a warning😵💫 Allusions to further sexual activity. As always, let me know if I’ve missed anything!
A/N: Can we tell how much I think about Joel eating pussy?💚 My sweet sweet Roman Empire. Enjoy. :-)
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG -> @endlessthxxghtsnotifs
“Should I shave it off?”
You choke on your own spit, eyebrows hitting the ceiling. “What?”
“My beard. All this scruff. Should I shave it?” Joel asks you, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against his jaw, his eyes surfing his jawline in the mirror much too critically for your liking.
“Do you want to?” You reply back, curious to understand what is going on in that chaotic mind of his.
“No? Yeah? I mean,” he breathes. “I dunno. A lotta white is startin’ to come through, ‘n I feel like it makes me look… raggedy.”
You frown. “Baby,” you say softly.
You woke up before Joel, last night’s activities knocking him out cold right after you two cleaned each other up. Unfortunately for you, no matter how hard you fell into your slumber, your body always woke you no later than 7am. It was a blessing and a curse. You decided a shower was in order.
As soon as you finished and got dressed, your burly, grumpy and sleepy baby of a man stumbled into the bathroom. Wanting his presence always, you hopped up on the bathroom counter, your legs hanging off the edge, and stayed with him as he continued his morning routine. It was after he brushed his teeth and washed his face that he posed his question to you.
You place your hand on his jaw and pull him closer so he’s standing in between your legs. The light press of your fingertips never leave his face. “You don’t look raggedy,” you scold. “You look… well, you look fuckin’ sexy, for one. I love this look on you,” you admit, a little sheepish. Your eyes scan his facial hair once more before you glance at his eyes, then to his lips. Your finger traces his bottom lip. “So fuckin’ sexy,” you mutter, emphasizing your claim.
You don’t have to look into his eyes to know his demeanor shifted. You can feel the way his gaze darkened. He pulls himself closer to you, his knees knocking the cabinets. His hand starts on your knee, dragging it up your thigh and up your side until it settles on your jaw, his fingers grasping your chin to make you meet his eye. “Oh, is that so, darlin’?”
You gulp, your head softly nodding at his words; unable to speak as your eyes gloss over. “What else d’ya love about it, darlin’?” He pushes, his fingers tightening on your chin—words, he’s telling you.
You can feel every part of your body heat up. “It…it…” you stutter. His eyebrow flicks up with a faintness only you’d catch. You clear your throat in hopes it makes you speak up. “You- you’re already so big ‘n broad, ‘n this… the scruff… it just adds to- to you,” you tell him shakily, your brain starting to flood with just how much you love his facial hair. “P-plus, it- oh my god,” you whine, unable to stop the spew of shit that’s about to fly out of your mouth. “It feels so good when it rubs against my thighs ‘n my-” you gasp. You don’t remember when it got there, but his other hand is gripping your thigh, his strength tightening at the last words that fell from your lips.
Slow, tantalizingly slow, he leans in. He places a lengthy kiss to your lips; your eagerness gets the best of you as you try and deepen it, but he’s already breaking away—moving down. His lips grace your jaw, your neck—more open-mouthed and needy these ones are, and he pauses. “Ya like how it feels here?” He says against your neck. Then he’s moving lower.
He peppers kisses along your shoulder and the exposed parts of your chest your top shows. He licks and sucks at a particular sweet spot atop your breast. A breathy little moan escapes you, your arms falling limp to your sides—and out of his way. He pauses his kiss to breathe you in. Lavender. Vanilla. The shower you just finished still clinging deliciously to your skin. “Ya like it here, too, don’tcha?” He places one more kiss on the mark he just gave you, not giving you a moment to respond.
Then. He’s falling to his knees. Today was supposed to be a lazy day for you two, so you settled on solely a pair of sleep shorts. Nothing more. His hands settle themselves underneath your thighs, scooting you as close to the edge as possible without making you off balance. He’s so tall that on his knees, his nose is belly button level with you.
He pushes your thighs open. Starting at your knee, he places a swift kiss there. The higher he goes, the wetter and slower they become. A drop of sweat beads down your neck. His hands make their way to your sides, fingers dancing along the waistband. He meets your eyes for a silent confirmation. Planting your hands behind you for stability, you lift your hips for him, a whimpered please leaves your mouth.
He pulls your shorts off slowly—the wetness staining the center of your shorts peels off of you, the cold air interacting with your slick sends a shiver down your spine. Joel lets your shorts fall to the floor beside him, his eyes darting to your glistening sex. “Fuckin’ wet,” he growls. “All worked up from my white beard? My old age?”
“‘S not what I meant,” you sputter, the kiss he places to your mound throwing you off-kilter. His hands grab onto your waist and he’s angling your hips forward, giving himself a full view of you. He does it again—kisses your sex—but this time, he puts his whole face into you as he uses his tongue to aid him, his scruff tickling all around, on your thighs, your clit. Your hips buck into his face at the sensation, a louder moan reverberating against the bathroom walls.
“Oh,” Joel smirks. “Right there, huh. Ya like the way it feels right there? Right there on that sweet, perfect fuckin’ cunt, huh? Drives you mad? Wild?” He teases.
You lament at his words, conflicted between which you want more—hearing his mouth or feeling his mouth? You're pulled from your internal battle when you feel yourself become impossibly wetter: a glob of warm spit lands right where you need him most. Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah okay, you want to feel him.
One hand behind you leaves from its place and reaches for his curls in an attempt to pull him into you. “Joel, baby, please,” you cry.
His head doesn’t budge no matter how strong you are. “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” he tells you. “Tell me what I wanna hear first, and then I’ll give it t’ya exactly, baby. Just be the good girl I know y’are f’me.”
“F-fuck. Fuck. Please, Joel, please-” you say impatiently. “I love the way it feels when I grind my fuckin’ pussy all over your face, baby, I love how it feels when it starts to burn against my thigh, the way it nudges and scrapes every part of me- it makes me feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire, baby, please,” you rasp.
“Atta girl, darlin’,” he coos, licking his lips before his hands pull you flush against his face, his tongue flying straight to your seam, licking a messy path that sends your slick and his spit everywhere. Instantly your head flies back, your hand curls into the roots of his hair once more as you moan and squirm against his grasp.
Joel loves spending his time down there, but regardless of the fact, you’ll never get used to how fucking good he makes you feel. Joel is ruthless when it comes to eating you out—always making you see stars even in the light of day.
“F-fuck, j-just like that, baby,” you pant, your one arm keeping you up threatening to lose balance at the greedy touch of his skillful tongue. He drags his muscle from your entrance and up to your clit, running circles and figure eights on it for a moment before he latches onto you—his lips completely wrapped as he suckles and continues to flick where you’re most sensitive. His dominant hand leaves your hip and he drags his fingers to your opening, his middle finger sliding in with ease—the sensation sending you to the edge of something white, hot, and all-consuming.
“I’m- I’m gonna cum, Joel, shit, I’m gonna cum-” you squeak, your entire body feeling flushed at his actions.
He pulls his finger out of you, his hand finding its rightful place perched against your hip as he pulls you impossibly closer once again, your ass nearly hanging off the bathroom counter, his grip the only thing keeping you up. Your arm loses its strength and you fall limp, your head thumping against the bathroom mirror, completely at the disposal of your man as he ravishes your sobbing pussy.
He lifts off your clit momentarily. “Give it t’me, sweet girl,” he tells you in a frenzy. His mouth is on you again, his tongue going straight to your hole—his tongue pushes inside of you as much as he can, his face pulled tightly against you. He begins moving, advancing his tongue in and out as you mindlessly begin grinding against face. With every upward push of your hip, his nose nudges at your clit and the pure ecstasy that washes through you is evident in the way you’re practically mewling above him, your obscene moans and gasps enough to make Joel’s hips thrust into nothing on their own accord in an attempt to seek some kind of relief.
More arousal pours from you, and Joel is quick to drink it up. You can feel the way his tongue flexes as he gulps, and fuck, that is what sends you reeling. You yank onto his hair tighter, driving your hips into his face at a ravenous pace—practically fucking his face—and then it hits you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your back arches in this awkward angle, your orgasm hits you hard. It’s without warning, heart-pounding, toe-curling, addicting, and everything Joel.
Your lips are babbling nothing coherent, the occasional drop of his name escaping your mouth as he continues to fuck you through your high. He’s moving much slower now, much more precise—as if he’s doing this solely for his benefit now, not yours. Which, you don’t mind. Even as you start to slip into overstimulating territory, you don’t want him to stop.
You’d lay at his mercy for him to use you in any way he pleases if it meant you got to experience what it means to be loved by a man like Joel. With him, it’s all or none—none of that half in, half out bullshit. No, when Joel loves, he loves hard, and it’s evident in everything he does for you. Especially when it comes to your pleasure.
A particular lick to your clit causes you to yelp out in a pleasurable pain, so Joel finally rises again, kissing your spent cunt one last time before he pulls you up, rubbing up and down your spine to ease the uncomfortable position you were in.
“You okay?” Joel asks, slight concern and slight amusement on his features as he looks at your face. Pure bliss and contentment fills your features; he can still see the fog clearing from your head.
“Yeah,” you mutter softly, a lazy grin plastered on your cheeks as you look up at his shiny face. Weakly, you bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you. He takes the hint, and he bends down, letting your lips meet in a soft yet enthusiastic embrace. You love the way you taste, especially when it comes from his mouth.
Pulling away breathless, both your and Joel’s eyes are aflame again.
“Don’t shave, baby.”
“I won’t, darlin’.”
You kiss him once more before he wraps your legs around his waist and carries you back to bed.
You were wrong. It’s going to be a busy day after all.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope it made your private parts tingle you enjoyed💚 If you’d like to be notified for upcoming fics, follow my notif blog!
@pedrostories
#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#fic#smut fic#one shot#pedrostories#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut
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˖⁺ ⊹୨ Y2KISSME ! ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ kinktober 2023 !
let’s kick it back to the year two thousand, but this time it’s wetter, wilder and raunchier aka the sexier versions of your fav y2k films.
୨୧ — NOTES. here it is my loves!! kinktober 2023. i hope you guys like it i’m super excited. some things might be scrapped but idk !! we’ll see. click here ! to join the taglist. rbs are totally fetch ! ♡ ⋆｡˚
୨୧ — RATED R: the following films contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. ugh, as if ! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.
╰₊✧ OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES - starring; satoru gojo ! ྀི
movie contents: thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown…
KINK: breeding ft. spit, infidelity, agoraphilia, daddy kink, baby trapping, breast play, royalty!au.
╰₊✧ OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS - starring; katsuki bakugou ! ྀི
movie contents: in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore!
KINK: free use ft. dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia.
╰₊✧ OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS - starring; yoichi isagi ! ྀི
movie contents: if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way!
KINK: overstimulation ft. scratching, car sex, public sex, food play, sweat kink, dry humping.
╰₊✧ OCT 16TH CLUELESS - starring; megumi fushiguro ! ྀི
movie contents: are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you?
KINK: step cest ft. photos, videos, soft sex, praise kink, body worship, panty sniffing, stuffed animals.
╰₊✧ OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY - starring; eijirou kirishima ! ྀི
movie contents: there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot.
KINK: monsterfucking ft. gags, claiming, choking, branding, blood kink, cock warming.
╰₊✧ OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE - starring; seishiro nagi ! ྀི
movie contents: there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…
KINK: coercion ft. dumbification, overstimulation, mind break, oral fixation, cherry chasing, power imbalance.
╰₊✧ BONUS CHARLIE'S ANGELS - starring; bakugou, kirishima ‘n midoriya ! ྀི
movie contents: your three precious angels deserve a little reward for all the hard work that they do, don’t you think, charlie?
KINK: gangbang ft. dvp, frottage, blowjobs, voice kink, running a train.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro smut#bllk smut#isagi x reader#isagi smut#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro smut#kirishima x reader#kirishima smut#deku smut#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tw: dark content
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Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼
I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)
I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."
late night talking.
op x fem norris!reader
in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…
hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍
songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit
4.1k words
sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.
that’s what you do, oscar and you.
you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.
you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.
rinse, repeat.
you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.
lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.
and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.
-
“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.
he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.
it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.
“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.
“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.
you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.
“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.
“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.
oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.
“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.
“more careful?”
you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.
“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.
“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”
“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.
you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.
-
“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.
“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.
he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.
“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.
“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.
“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.
you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.
“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”
“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.
a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.
it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.
-
somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago
“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.
“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.
“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.
“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.
you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.
“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.
“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.
“agreed.” he breathes.
“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.
“always.”
-
always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.
you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.
you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.
“lando, are you okay?”
will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.
your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.
that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.
and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.
but you stand there alone.
just like always.
-
somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago
“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.
you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.
the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.
“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.
he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.
“brown?” he questions teasingly.
“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.
“why?”
“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.
“you flirting with me?”
“you bet i am.”
you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.
-
the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.
he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.
“you just stood there.” you croak.
“love, i-“
“don’t call me that. please.”
hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.
“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.
you nod feebly.
“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”
“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.
“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“
“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.
“i can fix this, i will.”
“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.
“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.
“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”
“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately
“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.
you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.
“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”
“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.
“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”
“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.
oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.
“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.
the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.
“i love you, osc.” you whisper.
he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.
“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.
“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.
he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.
“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.
“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.
he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.
“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.
“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.
“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.
your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.
“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.
you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.
“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.
“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.
it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.
“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.
oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.
“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.
-
“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”
you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.
“what?”
“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.
“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.
“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.
“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“
“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.
“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.
“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”
-
“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.
“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.
you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.
“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”
“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.
“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.
“promise, i promise, i love you.”
you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.
“i know.”
“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.
“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.
he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.
“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.
“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.
“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.
his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.
“there’s something we gotta do.”
-
you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.
still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.
ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.
“oscar, what-“
“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.
oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.
your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.
“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.
“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.
lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.
but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.
“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.
“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.
“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.
“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.
“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.
“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.
“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.
all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.
“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”
jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.
“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.
“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.
“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.
“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.
you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.
-
you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.
you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.
when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.
you and oscar, you’re built to last.
-
“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.
it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.
the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.
“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.
“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.
“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.
yeah. duh. come on, man.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.
lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.
you’re gonna be okay.
-
hehe
-
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