#“and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catiuskaa · 19 hours ago

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HEURES D’ABSENCE.

come to bed (study me instead).

sum. felix knows you have to study, but… he smells so nice too… ok, hear me out… what if, instead, he helps you... review your research material?

wc: 4.3k

cw: sun & moon metaphors, felix is so down bad, minsung is mentioned, they’re so silly, sir kink? (not explored), kisses, kisses, kisses, oral (m.rec), soft yet unprotected piv sex (don’t!), and that’s all, folks!

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

The Sun is the star at the center of the Solar System. It is a massive, nearly perfect sphere of hot plasma, heated to incandescence by nuclear fusion reactions in its core, radiating the energy from its surface mainly as visible light and infrared radiation with 10% at ultraviolet energies. It is by far the most important source of energy for life on Earth. The Sun has been an object of veneration in many cultures. It has been a central subject for astronomical research since antiquity.

It's kind of an obvious statement, I know, but Felix resembles it quite well, with a couple of exceptions. You know for a fact that he too is by far your most important source of energy for life on Earth. Still, even if Felix can’t help but giggle every time you compare him to the massive star —reason why now his friends call him Sunny, too— he doesn’t feel like he can compare.

He hopes he never gets heated to incandescence. He isn’t sure if any culture venerates him, but he’s quite sure to say that the chances are quite low. He also hopes no one calls him a ‘yellow dwarf.’ But ultimately, he knows he isn’t that massive star that the Earth orbits around because, if he were, he’d probably have a bright, nuclear solution to his silly recent troubles.

But Felix groans. He isn’t as observant as he’d like to be. Moreover, when he does eventually see it, somehow it is always a bit too late.

Hogging the blankets and hugging a pillow, he sinks his head into it again. He’s been turning in bed for what feels like hours because he can’t help but notice it now. He can’t help but wonder how it could escalate to such an extent right under his nose.

Felix blinks, sleepy, but not quite enough to fall asleep.

But hogging the blankets isn’t his thing. He feels hot, so he pushes the bedsheets off of him, just for his arms to feel cold, to which he mumbles a curse and grabs the blanket again. This is bugging him. A lot. Like, sure, it was happening under his nose, but his nose wasn’t even that big. It keeps going for a while: hot, cold, hot, cold.

It’s unfair, or so he feels. It’s gotta be, he grimaces, as he covers himself top to bottom with the stupid blanket, and sticks his foot out. Weirdly, that scares him, so he groans and finally surrenders.

Ladies and gents, it only took Felix a week to figure out and acknowledge: it’s getting harder to sleep without you by his side. The excuse his body gives him is another, however, so he rises from his bed and heads out.

If you hear the faint sounds the wood makes with each of his steps as he goes from his room to the kitchen, he does not know. Felix just stares at your room’s door in your shared apartment, and there’s not even a shy move. Nothing what-so-ever. Not even the slightest gust of wind that moves it.

Felix sighs, the hair in his arms spiky as he opens the fridge and a shiver rushes while he grabs a bottle of water, chugging it as if the answer to his troubles is at the end. Somehow, he never reaches it. He swallows, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the cold remnants of it quickly fade away down his throat.

That refreshes him, but the light from the fridge killed every ounce of sleepiness in his eyes. He leans his elbows on the kitchen counter, passing his hands through his hair.

It’s a struggle for him, and maybe he comes to terms with it just because it’s late at night for him. Because this is as pathetic as it sounds: you have been locked up in your room on a day-to-day basis because of your exams, and even if Felix understands, cooks you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and checks on you when it’s late just to move your sleepy body from your desk to your bed, not seeing you aside from that is getting harder and harder.

Mhhm. Damn right. Pathetic, he knows. His roommate Minho—a poor guy stuck living in a flat with a lovey-dovey couple— had laughed one day so hard that they kicked them both out of the university’s library.

“I mean, sure I might miss Jisung like that whenever he has exams, but if I lived with him?” Minho scoffs as they both get out of the library. He feels bad for the blond boy though, so he sighs, patting his back. “Maybe you guys should talk this out, Sunny. C’mon, let’s get some hot coffee.”

Minho was in Jisung's apartment tonight, so Felix couldn’t go and bother him as he usually did. The only light in the flat was the one that escapes from the underside of your door. Like a moth, he gets closer, surrendering again. He sighs as he steps towards your room. Only then, he stops.

He doesn’t want to bother you. It may sound like a stupid excuse that he makes for himself, but ultimately it’s the only truth he knows. However, he grins, thinking that chances are you’ve probably fallen asleep on the desk again, your room smelling like paper, ink, and noodles. He can lie to himself and say that he was only going to tuck you into bed like usual. And so, taking the doorknob in his hand, and breathes out before opening it.

…until, well. You’re not asleep.

The Moon is Earth's only natural satellite. It orbits at an average distance of 384,400 km (238,900 mi), about 30 times the diameter of Earth. Tidal forces between Earth and the Moon have synchronized the Moon's orbital period (lunar month) with its rotation period (lunar day) at 29.5 Earth days, causing the same side of the Moon to always face Earth. The Moon's gravitational pull is the main driver of Earth's tides.

Maybe that is why as soon as the door is open, his heart dances in his chest. Maybe your gravitational pull is insignificant compared to that of the actual grey satellite, but Felix doesn’t have it in him to care when all he wants is to melt by your side. ‘You’re awake,’ he wants to say, but he shrugs it off. That’s a stupid sentence, even for him to say at three am. It is a fact that you barely sleep and that only worsens during exams week.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t let himself dwell on how not creative his mind turns out to be in the worst moments, not while your eyes hold his. It’s then when he sees through the midst of tired, sleepy confusion in the colour of your eyes that the hours of absence, of longing, of craving, crash against you almost as strongly as they crash against him. The sun and the moon on a collision course—fiery and untouchable, yet destined to shatter the sky when they finally meet.

There are no words —no other worlds: a star, and a satellite— as he stares at you, as you sit on the floor, against the edge of your bed, your room a mess and your desk a battleground that, by the looks of it, Felix can’t help but think you’re not having the upper hand in this war you’re fighting against piles of printed put PDFs. You want to stand up and hug him as if you haven’t seen him in months, but you don’t know your right foot from your left, your mind baffled and your heart swooning as soon as the dim light of your desk lets you see some of his darkest freckles, even as far away as he stands.

And somehow, he understands, meeting you halfway. Maybe he doesn’t, but you don’t have it in you to give a damn. Not when he’s back at your side.

It’d be foolish if he tried it right away, and maybe it’s because he knows you so well, but you appreciate that he doesn’t immediately urge you to go back to bed. Felix wouldn’t know if you had been in bed to begin with, but nevertheless, he sits with you against it, the only sound in the room being the ruffle the bedsheets make as he pulls at them to settle them back on the bed, and the sound of your computer’s fan, setting the mood just right.

You would’ve made that joke out loud, but you don’t have the energy. Not when all of your remaining energy goes to pay attention to the very much welcomed presence next to you, when he cradles your face with the palm of his hand, and every bit of hopelessness of your coloured eyes hits him, unrestrained.

“My misty moon.”

It’s a whisper, one that makes your heart sink. You missed that silly nickname so much, and it’s almost ridiculous –you have seen him during the week, but still, it doesn’t feel the same.

His arm slithers its way to your waist, scooching himself closer to you. You blink, noticing your eyes are teary.

Misty, ha. So funny.

Maybe you missed him that much, because it cracks a smile out of you. You don’t dare to doubt that you did. Maybe it’s because you’re stressed because of all the sheer amount of work you still have left to do —just the thought of it makes the room spin.

He hugs you tighter. Felix doesn’t know what to do. He pulls you closer. No, closer. His soft hands move to your thigh and pick you up, sitting you on his lap. He’s never seen you look so fragile.

It was silly. It was you who had asked him to let you be while exams lasted, because you concentrated better alone. The environment chaotic, sure, because you hadn’t had a dinner before two am that wasn’t noodles in like, a week, but still, even when you were roommates, he knew better than to approach you during exams. You had always made it clear: you just worked like that. He didn’t get it, but he also knows he’d do whatever you need. It hurt his soft little heart to see you push yourself so hard, but in the end, it always paid off.

But you had been missing him so much. So, so, so much you almost were convinced it couldn’t be normal. That you shouldn’t be. You had barely been together for a year, even if you had lived as roommates for longer. Was that even allowed? To miss someone so vividly when they are in the room next to you?

His chest feels warm against you. Oh, you missed him. Your chest gnaws at the feeling, your own heart hating you —despising you, even— from keeping it away from the warmth of this sun for so long —a little over a week— because, how could you be so cruel, your heart whines, teary and all smiley now.

You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re tickling me, moonmuffin.”

His- his voice? His laugh? Surely he’s got to be trying to murder you in cold blood and cuddles. What else could he be attempting when he feels so soft and so warm and so kissable and so… Felix.

“You smell nice,” you mumble instead, excusing yourself as you attempt to break each and every law of physics you may or may not remember as you move and fail to get even closer to him.

“What?” he giggles again, his hands traveling to thread your hair.

His fingers through your scalp feel so nice you sigh and melt against him. You agree with your heart: how dare you take this away for a week? You should be imprisoned and sentenced to mandatory cuddles for the rest of your life. Yeah. Life-sentence cuddles. You brush your nose slightly over his collarbone. You’re lucky you even remember what you had been saying.

“Not my fault. You smell nice.”

You should peach the idea. Life sentence cuddles for not having cuddles before. For attempting to even succeed in not having cuddles for a week. That? That’s fucking crazy.

“Mooncakes. How about we get you to bed, mmh?”

Maybe two life sentences. ‘Damn. You’re really sleep deprived’, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it, loving the thought of cuddles and Felix for life. Wait, no, even better: Felix’s cuddles for life. That way you didn’t need to worry about not having two lives. You could just cuddle. With Felix.

Meanwhile, Felix doesn’t even struggle when his hand passes behind your knees and holds your back, carefully standing up and getting you in bed, and quickly reaching for the blanket to tuck you in.

“What are you mumbling about,” he smiles, stroking your cheek.

His touch feels softer than all the blankets in your apartment combined. Like cotton and clouds, soft, mushy, effervescent. A-blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of deal. Which is a very big deal, because there is no way in hell Felix even tries to leave. You have been sentenced to cuddles for life, and the law is the law.

“Oh no, mister,” you blink, smiling softly. “You don’t get to leave now.”

His eyes are like crescent moons while you look at him as if he was crazy. As if the mere thought of him trying to leave was mindboggling, along with downright impossible. Fat chance you were going to let him go past that door tonight. Or ever, your heart snickers, rubbing hands like birdman, almost menacingly.

“The bed is cold,” he teases.

“Warm it up, Sunny.”

Your reply comes faster than he anticipated despite how sleepy you look, and Felix can’t help but smile. He missed how that nickname sounded in your voice, even if it was layered below sleepiness. “Smartass,” he grins, but he tries to keep his promise. Just in case. He wouldn’t want you to be pissed off at him in the morning. “You should sleep.”

“Haha. As if.”

Your hands travel and link behind his head, keeping him an inch from your face. You’re making this too hard for poor, weak, little Felix, but he bites his lip. His voice turns even softer, a whisper against your lips.

“But I’ll just keep you awake.”

Your eyes trail down to his lips, and he’s so close to losing it. “Somehow I still don’t see the issue,” you mumble.

His nose strokes yours as he can’t help but giggle. “You’re so gonna get all moony about it tomorrow.”

“What does that even mean,” you scrunch your nose, much to his amusement.

Felix just laughs, shaking his head sheepishly.

“We should sleep.”

“Right.”

“You’ll be mad at me if you feel tired tomorrow.”

Now that makes you giggle, letting out a sound much like a lie detector would. A strange meeh that, had he not been as tired as he was, Felix would’ve rolled his eyes at.

“Wrong.”

He sighs, the smile on his face not faltering for a millisecond. “You’re making this too hard.”

You blink at him innocently, and Felix indulges again. Maybe because it’s late, but honestly, his mind is too tired to make up an excuse as to why he lowers his head and kisses your temple.

He hears how your breath hitches, and that makes him as giddy as the first time.

“You know, I read something off the pages on the floor last night,” Felix chuckles, stroking your nose with his as you blink and blush.

“Oh?” You smile, cheekily interested.

“Oh,” he teases you. “So, philosophy major, what’s all that with kisses and their meanings?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, the thought of taking the spare pillow on your bed and hitting him with it getting tempting.

Felix’s hands play with the ends of your hair as it rests against the pillow below your head, a mindless action that he only stops to cradle your face and press against your cheeks teasingly.

“My cute fluffy moon. A philosophy romantic.”

“Enough,” you whine, laughing. His heart does a little dance every time he gets a chuckle out of you, and this time, a win is a win. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it.”

“You know, I’m actually a visual learner?”

Felix bites his tongue when your eyebrows raise. Even he knew that was fairly smooth, which is only acknowledged when you roll your eyes.

“So, technicalities aside, because I refuse to tell the intro again or even read it within the next ten hours,” you state, making him laugh as you continue talking, “the human species has many types of kissing. And all of them have different underlining meanings.”

The look in his brown eyes remains expecting, however, so it seems that short explanation won’t do to make the suddenly-turned Professor Felix happy. Or so he makes it seem, by how he fakes pushing non-existent glasses further the bridge of his nose.

“That seems like an interesting research,” he starts, pushing the non-existent glasses again. “I see,” he snorts, because it’s late, it’s a lame joke, and he’s trying to get you to give him the kisses he’s been missing all week —and he may be close to getting some, which he celebrates silently.

“Any examples, perchance?”

And just why the hell would you refuse?

“Of course, sir,” it’s just because of his formal tone, but something in the air shifts. Maybe just the dust that gets bored and changes direction in the air, but Felix’s eyes also do something you can’t quite place. But your mind goes up to the files, seeing if you understand the topic you are researching.

“How about we do it this way— you say a body part, and I tell you its meaning?”

Oh, fuck yeah. Felix can’t believe he’s getting it this easily. He could die right now, filled with the cheeky malice of getting a plan executed successfully, but he ain’t dying without those kisses.

He ponders carefully but decides to start easy. “A kiss on the cheek?”

As your hands softly move to cradle his face, the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, soft soft soft, so soft he can’t think of a better adjective to describe it nor another by any chance, the gentle and tender press of your kiss triggers the butterflies that linger around in his system ever since he’d started liking you.

“Depending on the culture, a kiss on the cheek indicates affection or tries to portray a sense of welcoming,” you state in a calming voice filled with sleepiness that’s slowly starting to wear off.

“Forehead.” Felix grins, feeling his cheeks heat up when your hands move his head so you can reach from where you are lying down underneath him and shortly peck him.

“A deep wish for protection, with underlying affection. A way to express one’s desire for the other’s well-being.”

“I uh… may be running out of ideas,” Felix chuckles sheepishly. But please don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop. Ever.

He shuts up his heart as you start speaking. “I’ll take the microphone from here, then,” you laugh.

And Felix smiles widely as he starts being pampered to death in the form of kisses. A kiss on his earlobe, “to provoke arousal.” A kiss on his hands, “to greet with respect.” A tiny peck on his nose, “to express care.” A slightly longer kiss on his lips, “love,” you continue as you smile at him.

Had he been standing, Felix would’ve swooned by now. He doesn’t know how his arms haven’t surrendered and finally refused to hold his weight over you, but there he remains, over you, legs tangled underneath the bedsheets, with the only light in the room —your desk light— lighting not only his face, but also his eyes as they shine brighter after every kiss.

“Now, as you so obviously know, as a thorough expert in the matter,” you joke, happy to make him laugh, “other, different kisses may share meaning with these.”

“I see. Go on, then.”

It only takes another “Of course, sir,” and there it goes again. The tension in the room spikes up, like the hair in your arms whenever you look at the mess your room is in during exams.

But you’re having fun. And you smile. “A kiss on the lips indicates love, as I stated prior,” you snicker, kissing him on the lips again, maybe to make a point, maybe because after all these kisses he’s starting to taste like the most delicious thing you could take to your mouth.

Blame the tension for that, your heart grins at you, pushing you from behind to keep going. And there you go.

“There’s also what is called French kissing.” You swear you can see the exact moment where your desk light rats him out, allowing you to see how his pupils darken when instead of lifting your head to reach him, you finally link your arms behind his head and pull him down towards you, kissing him on the lips again, deeply this time, nibbling on his lips and taking advantage of the moment he smiles to slide your tongue in.

Felix isn’t just on cloud nine. He’s on cloud nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. He’s never been so high in the sky, and even if it is currently past midnight, had he been the actual, real Sun, not only would he be shining as much as he is now, but also make tomorrow the day with the clearest blue skies.

None of you can tell who is it that starts deepening the kiss. None of you can tell who’s the first that starts panting and gasping while both his and your hands start to map the other’s body, as if they’ve lost something and were sure the other one had it hidden somewhere.

You, however, are sure that there’s no such thing as a good night kiss anymore, because, with Felix’s knee between your thighs and his tongue in your mouth, you’re so not going to allow this alluring man who you’ve been dreaming about since the exams week started to leave you just like that.

To hell with tomorrow’s exam.

Felix, the poor boy, can’t read your mind. Maybe that’s why he gasps so heavily he lets out a moan when you roll him to his back and kiss him again before he can catch his breath. Maybe it's why he keeps letting out moans when he notices you smiling as you kiss him, your hands trailing up below his shirt.

“T-that tickles,” he smiles, panting, as your fingers trail faintly over his skin, making him feel goosebumps.

It doesn’t tickle anymore when it’s your lips that follow his happy trail, down, down, down. He takes off his shirt as if it’s burning, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t think of a time when he has wanted this as desperately as he does now.

There’s no doubt in his mind that in your darkened eyes the same thought lingers on your head, while they stare deeply into his own, almost in a way capturing his soul, the sensation as effervescent yet not as pleasurable as the one that travels from his dick to his whole body as your hand closes around it. God, if Felix loves that sensation. He was so drunk once that he remembers thinking that if he could marry it, he probably would’ve. Somewhere in Las Vegas, too.

His head falls limp against the pillows with a thud, his hand threading into your hair as pretty little moans leave past his lips, following the sticky sweet sounds your mouth starts to make as you attempt to take him in, hollowing your cheeks and leaving your hand at the base to make up for what you can’t fit.

“F-fuck, baby, that’s so good…” he lets out over and over,” so good, baby, so good,” he almost mewls, “missed you s’much, fuck…”

He lets out a groan as he moves your head away, because he could bet money that he was a beat way from bursting, and he wouldn’t lose. Even then, losing the opportunity to fuck you for all the times he sighed pathetically this week, missing you when you were just next door, is much, much worse.

Felix’s soft hands travel, stroking every square inch of surface he can at a time, passing your thighs, your stretch marks and your hip dips —ones he has been a devout worshiper for God knows how long, dedicating entire nights (and days, if it had been only for him) to the both of them— bending to press soft kisses from your tummy up to your cleavage, his hands playing with your nipples just to hear your whines as he helps you lean your back down softly on the bed.

Felix whispers soft and tender nothings in your ear, mixed with silly sentences just because he’s missed having you below him so stupidly, stupidly because you’ve missed him just as much. He too kisses you everywhere after he slides in, only because he’s pretty sure that if he starts moving right away, he might not last as long as he wants.

Your cheek, your forehead, your temple, on the palm of your hand before linking his fingers with it, on your nose just so he can smile at you when you scrunch it.

“Sunny, don’t tease,” you pout cutely, moving your hips.

Finally, Felix giggles as he dives for your lips deeply. And when he kisses you, you smile, reeling in the feeling of his lips against your lips.

A solar eclipse.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

~kats, who’s genuinely tweaking bc why do i feel like this wouldn’t work if i hadn’t sneaked astronomical stuff in it?

catiuskaa, february 2025 ©

I AM??? SO SORRY?? I HAVEN'T POSTED IN?? SO LONG?? MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR??? LIKE ??'?'?'?' I MISSED SO MUCH??

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batboysanonymous · 2 days ago

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Always, My Darling

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, love means letting someone else carry the weight—if only for a moment.

───────────────────────────────

The City of Starlight shimmered below, its beauty lost on you as you sat hunched over your desk in the House of Wind. The towering windows framed a sky painted in hues of amethyst and gold, stars beginning to prick the canvas of twilight. But your attention was tethered to the parchment scattered across the polished mahogany, each document a reminder of the endless responsibilities piling atop your already strained mind.

Correspondence from Illyrian war camps, trade reports delayed by early snows, diplomatic letters from Day Court—all demanding answers only you could give. Your fingers trembled slightly as you scribbled notes, the quill dragging ink across the page with more force than necessary. The tension in your shoulders felt like iron chains, each knot a testament to sleepless nights and days filled with obligations you couldn’t escape.

Because you were the High Lady of the Night Court.

And High Ladies didn’t fall apart.

You told yourself that as you ignored the ache behind your eyes, the burning tightness in your chest, the way your heart raced even when sitting still. You told yourself that as you replayed the faces of your family in your mind—Azriel, his shadows darker than usual, haunted by demons he wouldn’t name. Cassian, hiding the stiffness in his movements after an injury, his bravado thinner than usual. Mor, her radiant smile not quite reaching her eyes lately.

You worried for them all. Poured yourself into fixing their burdens. You could handle it. You had to handle it.

But somewhere in the hollow ache of your heart, you wondered how long you could keep pretending you weren’t drowning.

You didn’t hear Rhysand enter.

But the bond between you whispered of his presence before his footsteps echoed across the room. It was a subtle shift, like the air itself recognized him before your senses caught up—a warmth that curled around your frayed edges, threading through the cracks you tried so hard to conceal.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood in the doorway, his violet eyes drinking you in, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. You didn’t have to look up to feel his gaze—sharp, perceptive, the kind of stare that saw too much.

The furrow between your brows. The restless tapping of your foot. The way your fingers twisted your wedding ring—a nervous habit he’d noticed long ago.

And then he moved.

Swift, graceful, predatory in the way only he could be.

You barely had time to react before strong arms swept you from your chair, your body lifted effortlessly against the solid warmth of his chest.

"Rhys!" you squeaked, clutching at his shoulders as papers fluttered to the floor like snowflakes. "What are you—put me down!"

His response was a soft hum, his lips finding your temple in a kiss so gentle it unraveled something tight in your chest.

"I’ve seen enough," he murmured against your skin, his voice a velvet caress.

You squirmed in his hold, your protests weak and half-hearted. "I have work to do. The Solstice is next week, and the logistics—"

"Hush, darling." He tightened his grip, one arm cradling your thighs, the other wrapped securely around your back, fingers brushing dangerously close to the curve of your breast. His wings flared slightly behind him, a silent warning that he wasn’t about to let you go.

Despite your wriggling, your body betrayed you—melting into the warmth of him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your ear. By the time he carried you into the bathroom, your protests had faded into soft sighs, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

He set you down on the cool marble counter, his hands lingering at your waist before sliding up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, tilting your head so your gaze met his.

And gods, those eyes.

Violet, flecked with starlight and shadows, filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"Rhys," you whispered, trying to summon your earlier indignation. "What are we doing? We don’t have time for this."

His smile was soft, knowing.

"Darling, I don’t mean to hush you, but… hush."

Your mouth fell open slightly, indignant words caught on the tip of your tongue. But he was already leaning in, peppering soft kisses across your face—your temple, the slope of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each one a silent plea, a prayer, a promise.

"You, my mesmerizing mate, are too stressed out for your own good," he murmured between kisses. "I don’t want you to worry about a single thing tonight. I’ll take care of it."

The words unraveled you more than you cared to admit.

"But I can handle it," you blurted, your voice trembling. "I’m the High Lady. This is my duty. I know what I’m doing."

Rhys didn’t argue.

He just listened.

As you spilled excuses, listing responsibilities like armor, he rubbed slow, soothing circles into your tense shoulders, his lips brushing against your skin in feather-light touches.

"S’alright, baby," he whispered eventually, his voice rough with emotion. "I know. I know you can handle it. I know you’re brilliant and capable and strong."

His hands framed your face again, his thumbs catching the tear you hadn’t realized had escaped.

"But if I’m being honest… sometimes I get overwhelmed too."

The admission hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"And when that happens," he continued softly, "do you know what I need?"

You shook your head, your throat tight.

"I need you." His voice was raw, a fragile truth laid bare. "I just need you close to me."

Tears welled in your eyes, the dam breaking under the weight of his love.

"So will you please take this bath with me, doll?" he asked, his grin softening the ache in your chest. "I’ll even feed you chocolate-covered strawberries and give you a massage with that lavender oil you love so much."

You didn’t bother pretending anymore.

The smallest quirk of your lips was all the permission he needed.

With a snap of his fingers, both your clothes vanished, and before you could protest, he was lowering you into a warm bath infused with lavender and bergamot. The heat enveloped you, pulling a sigh from your lips.

Rhys slid in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His hands moved with reverence, massaging your scalp, fingers threading through your hair with practiced ease. He let the conditioner sit while his thumbs worked the knots from your shoulders, coaxing soft, content sounds from you.

The tension bled from your muscles, replaced by warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

After rinsing you off, he wrapped you in a plush towel, carrying you to your bed—the one designed for his large Illyrian wings. He tucked you under the soft blankets, his body molding around yours, wings cocooning you both in warmth and safety.

"You always take care of everyone else," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "Let me take care of you."

And for the first time in too long, you let him.

You let yourself be held. Loved. Cherished.

Sleep claimed you, soft and irresistible, as Rhysand’s voice was the last thing you heard:

"I’ve got you, my darling. Always."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊

Taglist: @willowpains

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bteezxyewriter12 · 24 hours ago

Text

Corruption/ 1

Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader

Word count- 5.1k

Includes- Nerdy virgin Hwa, blow job, deepthroating, pussy eating, cum eating, cock riding, corruption, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78 @blueie-things @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @armystayluv23 @soso59love-blog @annalynsworld

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Corruption Masterlist

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Gif Credit- There's a symbol or something in the corner of the gif that I can't make out. If someone knows the creator let me know and I'll link them

J POV

"Yes, oh fuck yes", the woman on the screen yells

Seonghwa sits with his eyes wide behind his glasses and his mouth dropped while I smirk at him

"Is she-"

"Coming in his mouth? Yeah", I answer

I had no idea that Seonghwa was home when I decided to watch some porn and get off

Luckily I just turned it on and hadn't started undressing when he walked in asking about the moaning

His eyes hit the TV and he looked so surprised and immediately blushed

I made a joke about him never seeing porn before to cover up my embarrassment and he admitted that he's never watch any

Needless to say my jaw fell to the floor

I mean it's not unbelievable

Seonghwa is totally clueless about sex

I figured that out when his mom dated then married my dad four years ago

We were both 21 and thrown together, suddenly step siblings

Although he's never felt like a step brother

More like a shy, nerdy, clueless friend

He even offered to move out of our parents home and into this apartment with me so I'm not solely responsible for bills and rent

Don't get me wrong he's really nice and sweet but he's sheltered, socially awkward and completely dumb about sex

Which is surprising because he's totally hot

Beautiful

But he so doesn't know it

Anyway, I invited him to watch with me and to my shock he sat on my bed, his eyes glued to the screen

"In...his mouth?", he gapes

I nod, "Yeah"

"What uh...what does he do with it?"

I raise my eyebrow, "Swallows it"

"Oh", he says, his cheeks reddening

"Do you wanna stop watching?"

He shakes his head, "I'm ok"

I shrug

Fine by me

The couple on the porn move, her now giving him a blow job

As the scene progresses, Seonghwa pushes up his glasses, his hand shaking slightly

I watch him as the video goes on, liking how nervous he is

Also liking how awed he is at seeing two people have sex

I know his mom is nuts about sex, keeping him in the dark about it, telling him it's bad and to only do it if you want to have kids

I know, she tried the same shit with me when our parents married asking if I was a virgin, shaming me for not being one while proudly stating that Seonghwa is

I honestly have no idea if he is or not but I basically told her to shove it

Yeah, she doesn't like me much

She also is so mad that Seonghwa chose to move out of the house and blames me

Like I'm gonna force him to join a sex cult and have massive amounts of orgies or something

I have no clue how my dad handles her but love makes you deal with stupid things

The guys in the video groans as he cums inside the woman, then he pulls out and the camera does a close up of her pussy dripping his cum

As per usual

When the video ends, I go back to the home site then look over at Seonghwa

He's swallowing hard, his hands over the tent in his pants, trying to push it down

I wonder if he even jerks off

Nevertheless this is the perfect time to lightly tease him and find out about his virgin status

"So have you watched porn before at all?"

His whole face turns red as he answers, "Nnn..not on my own. Once when my friends made me"

Probably Hongjoong and Wooyoung

They're horny little shits, always hitting on me when they're over

I've considered fucking them but I don't want to make things weird for Seonghwa

He was nice enough to move in with me, I don't want him to feel like he can't has his friends over because his horny stepsister will try to fuck them

"Oh. Did you like this one?"

"I uh...well...I...", he stammers, "Yeah"

I nod

For me it was fine

Standard porn

I was just gonna get off quickly then nap so I didn't need anything too kinky

I decided to tease him further

"What part did you like the most?"

He keeps his eyes firmly on my blanket when he says, "I uh...when he.... licked her"

I smirk, "So when he ate her cunt"

I saw him lick his lips a few times while that was happening

His eyebrows shoot up, "Is that what it's called?"

"Yeah. Eating pussy or going down on someone. Or oral. You can call it whichever"

"Oh...I didn't know that", he murmurs, his sheltered life showing, "They...never told me what it was called"

I'm guessing he means his friends

"Have you ever-", I start, curious, but stop when he shakes his head

"I've never...done anything. Not even kissed anyone yet"

I'm fucking shocked

He hasn't even kissed yet?

He's a virgin virgin

Jesus

"You never liked anyone enough to kiss them?"

He shakes his head, "It's not that. It's just I was so worried about it, worried I'd mess up. I'm not really good with girls. And now it's pathetic to tell any girl that a 25 year old man has never kissed anyone and doesn't know how"

Ok now I feel sorry for him

He has to be so in his head about it and now he's scared

"Hwa don't worry about that. The right girl...she won't care that you don't know how to kiss. The right girl will teach you. Just remember that ok?"

He nods, still avoiding eye contact

This conversation took a serious turn and I need to steer it back to a light mood

"So what about the blow job part?"

"What uh...what about it?"

"Did you like seeing that? The girl sucking his dick, choking on it?"

"I uh..yes...the...the sounds...we're uh...nice...when she...choked"

And I see the perfect opportunity to corrupt my dorky step brother

Not gonna lie, I always wanted him

Wanted to fuck him senseless

And this is perfect

Of course if he doesn't want to do anything I won't force him

I'm not like his mom thinks

But I can offer

"Do you...wanna try that?", I ask

His eyes snap to mine, shock in them along with desire, "Try what?"

"A blow job"

"A..a...bbb...blow.."

"Job", I finish for him, "I just...I noticed you're hard and it can't be comfortable. I can take care of it for you"

"You...you can?"

I nod, "I can suck your dick for you. Make those choking sounds you like. Make you cum in my mouth and swallow all of it"

I see his cock twitch in his pants and I refrain from smirking

"I...uh...I don't...I don't....know...what if ..uh.. someone finds out?"

I think he means his mom

"Hwa, no one will find out. I won't tell anyone. We can keep it a secret", I tell him, "The only way anyone would know is if you say something"

"I..I won't", he answers, his eyes pleading with me and I don't think he knows what he's pleading for

He's not thinking, just horny

"So yes?"

He nods rapidly, "Yes. Ok"

"Ok", I smile encouragingly at him, "Lay back"

He slowly leans back against my headboard, sitting up enough so he could clearly see me suck his cock

I slide my hands up his legs, hooking my fingers in his sweatpants

His breathes get harder and harder as I slide the pants down

He automatically lifts his behind up so I can get them down and I smirk at his eagerness

I pull them off and throw them on the floor

Moving between his legs, I lean down and kiss along his cock through his boxers, feeling it twitch against my lips

Fuck, he feels big

I start pulling his boxers down, eager to be face to face with his cock

I waited a long time for this

Getting them off quickly, I move my gaze to his dick and oh fuck

Huge

Fucking huge

Long and thick, nice curve to it

And so fucking hard, straining and crying cum

I literally don't think I've seen a cock this hard before

"Oh Hwa", I murmur, moving my hand around him, pressing a kiss to his underside, "You're so big Hwa"

"I uh...I am?", he asks, so unsure

"Oh yeah baby", I tell him, then lick up from his base to his head, a soft moan coming from him

A moan that makes me so much wetter than I already am

"Your cock is long", I say, licking up again, "And so fat. You're gonna make me choke so good"

"Oh god", he murmurs, his legs already shaking

He's not lasting long

"But before I suck on you, I need a taste", I smirk, then lick along his slit, his cum on my tongue

I collect as much as I can then swallow it

Fucking good

"Mmm Hwannie. You taste so yummy", I praise him

I glance up at him, pleased to see him fucked out already, his eyes on my mouth by his dick

"Do you like seeing me lick your pretty cock?", is sk, kicking again

He nods, "Yeah"

"Want me to suck?"

He nods

"Words Hwa. Tell me what you want"

"Please Jo, sss...suck my cock"

Gotta admit, hearing him talk like that is such a turn on

He's normally so dorky, I don't think I've ever heard him curse before

So this is so hot

Moving my mouth around his head, I press my tongue to the underside and suck once

"Oh god...oh my....God", he groans and I take that as a cue to suck more

Hollowing out my cheeks, I suck on his pretty head, his slit already leaking so much in my mouth

I know he's not gonna last so I move down his cock more and more with each suck

Normally I'd take my time, go down his length slowly but I don't want him to cum without deepthroating him

He's louder now, letting out sexy moan after moan as I go down his entire shaft, his cock nestled in my throat

I choke around his dick, spit flowing everywhere, tears in my eyes

God, he's big

I slide back down his length to half way, then bob up taking him back in, his cock sliding down into my throat, making me choke again

God, I love this

I bob up and down fast, fucking my throat on his fat cock, watching his fingers twist in my sheets so hard his knuckles are white

"Oh my god, Jo..oh god....feels so good....fuck"

It's the "fuck" that sends chills down my spine, my eyes moving up to him, blinking the tears away

His face is in so much pleasure, biting his lip hard as he watches me go hard on his length

He's so fucking beautiful it's stupid

I take his hand off the sheet and put it in my hair

I'm craving to feel him pull it

He looks at me with a question in his eyes and I nod

His hand tightens immediately in my strands, holding on but not pulling

I tug on his arm, showing him what I want

"Yyy...you want me to pull your hair?"

I nod, slipping up and down his cock

"Ok", he whispers

I take him all in, sucking hard around his entire dick and he cries out in pleasure, his hand tugging hard on my hair involuntarily

I moan around his length, so turned on, so fucking wet, my panties are complete soaked through

"Oh my god. I can't....I..I think....I'm..", he trails off

I move faster, choking over and over, his cock throbbing in my throat

"Oh fuck, Joanne! Fuck", he cries as his hot cum spills down my throat, his entire body shaking from pleasure, the sound of my name in his voice driving me crazy

I bottom him out, sucking desperately, tasting his sweet cum and swallowing greedily

Goddamn, he cums a lot but I make sure I swallow all of it

When he finishes, I pull off him, licking along his slit to make sure I get all of his cum

Moving my eyes up to him, I smirk at the completely fucked out look on his face

I sit next to him, softly running my fingers in his silky black hair

His eyes move to mine as he smiles weakly

"How was it?"

"So fucking good", he murmurs

"Yeah?"

He nods, "Absolutely"

"Good"

I'm glad I could make him feel good

I give him a few minutes to bathe in the post orgasm bliss

He needs it

I have no clue if he ever jerked off and orgasmed before

But at least I know I'm the first one who's given him an orgasm

I like that

I feel his hand on mine, taking me out of my thoughts and I turn to him

He looks at me nervously

"Can I see....uh...", he trails off, his eyes moving down to my crotch

"My pussy?", I ask excitedly

He nods, blushing again, "Uh yeah"

I shrug, "Sure"

Moving off my bed, I drop my shorts and my panties to the floor

His eyes widen as they look directly at my cunt, him sitting up straighter

I smirk, getting on the bed again, facing him this time

"Wanna see more?", I ask

He nods

I lean back and open my legs for him

He gasps, his eyes widening as he looks

His hands moves around my thighs, as he moves closer, a move I'm not sure he knows he made

"Pretty", he murmurs, making me giggle

Taking his hand, I slowly bring it towards me, putting it on my pussy, pressing his fingers against me, moaning softly at finally feeling his touch

His breath hitches, making me smile

"Mm Hwa", I whimper, "Do you feel how wet I am for you?"

His eyes snap to mine, "Fffff...for me?"

I nod, holding his gaze, "All for you"

"I uh ..wow"

"Touch me", I ask

"I..I don't...I don't know how", he says, sounding so sad

"I'll show you", I tell him, putting my hand over his and guiding him

His fingers run up my cunt and I press them into my clit, moving them in a circle

"Mmm Hwa", I moan, "So good"

I move my hand from his, letting him play with my clit for a bit

I have to say, he's a fast learner, playing with me so blissfully

I look up at him, watching him look at my cunt, his tongue licking his lips slowly

And I get an idea

"Wanna taste my pussy?", I ask nonchalantly

"Yes", he answers immediately, his head nodding like a bobble head doll, "Can you show me what to do?"

"Yeah baby", I answer, moving his hand and putting it on my thigh

"Lick here", I tell him, moving my fingers up my cunt

He nods, taking his glasses off and putting them on my nightstand

He leans down, his tongue on me and he immediately licks up quickly, shivers running up my back

"Slower Hwannie"

He nods, "Ok"

His tongue moves again, this time listening and going slow

"Should I uh ..press harder?"

I nod, "Yeah"

He does exactly that, pressing against my cunt, licking right up between my lips then back down, over and over

"Mmmm", I moan, the pleasure so good, "A little faster"

He listens, doing what I ask and I'm amazed that he's such a good listener

"Where..where your fingers were...", I trail off

"Yeah?", he murmurs

"Lick there"

He nods, the tip of his tongue swiping against my clit over and over

"Yes Hwa", I moan louder, the pleasure increasing so much, "Yes baby, just like that. Fuck"

His tongue now flicks my clit back and forth, a new blissful sensation taking over my body

God he's doing such a good job

His tongue moves in different ways, flicking, swiping, using his whole tongue then just the tip to give me amazing pleasure

I look down to find him already looking up at me, as if he's studying which tongue movement is best, which is my favorite

They're all my favorite

His tongue is just...fuck

"Fuck Hwa", I whimper, "God, you're tongue baby. Fuck, it's so fucking good. You're so good"

He whimpers against my pussy, his tongue moving faster and on his own he tugs my clit in his mouth and starts sucking

Softly at first, stars blasting in my eyes as I scream in pleasure

"Seonghwa!", I yell, my hand burying in his hair, holding on tightly, "Yes baby fuck. Don't stop. Please, don't stop"

His hands push my legs open more, his mouth moving, the sight of his jaw moving as he sucks so fucking hot

The pleasure builds as he slurps around my clit and I let the feel of his mouth around me wash over me, ready to fucking snap

"Keep going Hwa. Just like that", I moan, my hips moving on their own, fucking his face, "I'm gonna cum. Fuck, I'm gonna cum in your mouth"

He sucks hard and I'm thrown head first into a massively pleasurable orgasm, screaming his name as I pull his hair hard

"Seonghwa!", I cry, feeling so fucking good, "Seonghwa! Fuck Seonghwa!"

He sucks me through it, my hips snapping against his face, my legs shaking around his head

Once I relax into the bed, his mouth let's go of my clit but his tongue buries in my pussy licking desperately

"Mmm", he moans, swallowing my cum, soft pleasure humming through me

He licks a few more times then sits up, his cheeks so red, avoiding my eyes

"Hwa", I call softly, patting the bed next to me

He shyly moves next to me, laying down and I turn to him, smiling when I notice his dick is hard

Again

Oh yeah, this is great

I put my hand on his chest, running it down his shirt towards his dick

"Oh Hwa. What happened?", I ask, looking at his length

His eyes follow mine and he swallows hard, silent

"Did you get hard from eating my pussy?", I ask softly

He nods shyly as I wrap my hand around his hard length

So hard, skin so soft

"Did you like it that much?", I tease

He nods again, "So much. You...you taste really good"

I smile at him, "Thanks baby. You taste good too remember?"

"I uh...I...uh", he trails off, nodding

I swear I've never seen Seonghwa blush so much

It's adorable

"So what are we going to do about this?", I ask, glancing down at his cock as I start stroking him

"I don't...I uh I don't know"

"Hmmmm....well....I have an idea", I tell him, getting excited

And so wet from the thought of it

"What is it?", he asks curiously

God, I hope he goes for it

"I can fuck you"

His breath hitches, his eyes finally looking up and meeting my gaze

"You...you can?"

I nod, "I can sit on your dick, slip you inside my pussy and bounce on your cock. Like the girl in the video did when she rode the guy"

His eyes are wide as plates as he stares at me but his cock throbs in my hands as soon as the words are out of my mouth

"Would you like that Hwa? Would you like me to ride you?"

He nods rapidly, "Yes...do you...do you want to?"

"Do I want to be on your dick, riding you hard and coming around your cock? Feeling you cum in my pussy?", I whisper, smiling, "Yeah baby, I want that a lot"

He nods

"Words Hwannie"

"I want you to ride my cock"

Thank fucking god

"Ok baby"

Climbing in his lap, I sit on him, my hands on his shirt, "But first, I need you naked"

"I uh...ok", he stammers

"Sit up for me for a second"

He does and I eagerly pull his shirt up and throw it on the floor

Putting my hands on his chest, I gently push him down, my eyes raking down his body

And my god, what a body it is

His chest is muscular, his skin super soft as I touch him

His heart is beating so fast making me smile

He has upper arm muscles too, which is a huge turn on for me

I love guys' arms and Seonghwa's are perfect

As my eyes travel down, my mouth opens slightly seeing his abs

Like hard abs cut into his skin

How the fuck?

"Oh my god Hwa"

"Www...what?"

"You're a total hottie", I compliment

"I uh...what...I...ah... really?"

He's looking at me with such shock in his eyes

I nod, my fingers tracing his abs, "Oh yeah. I'm surprised you're still a virgin with a body like this"

"Uh...is that...doesn't that mean I'm....a .. loser? Because I'm still a virgin and uh "hot?""

I snap my gaze to him, "No Hwa, of course not. Who told you you're a loser for being a virgin?"

"Uh...well...Wooyoung and uh.."

"Hongjoong?", I finish and he nods, "Don't listen to those idiots Hwa. I like that you're a virgin"

Oh god do I

And if he allows it, I get to take it from him

"You do?"

"Oh yeah", I smirk, "Means I get to show you just how good you can feel. It means I get to have you first, make you cum and fill a pussy first. You liked the blow job didn't you?"

"So much", he nods

"You liked eating me out right? I mean you got hard from it"

"I...I liked going down on you more than the blow job", he says, then his eyes widen, "Not that the blow job wasn't amazing because-"

"Shh Hwa", I giggle, "You're allowed to like what you like ok? It's ok if you liked eating cunt more than getting your dick sucked. Most girls just do blow jobs to get oral from the guy"

"Is...is that why you-"

"Nope", I answer, knowing where he's going with this, "I like sucking dick Hwa. A lot. And I like swallowing cum. I don't give blow jobs to get anything back"

I lean over him, my mouth close to his ear, "And your cum is the best I've ever tasted"

"Uh...thanks", he chokes out

I nod, "Sure baby. How about we see if you like sex more than eating cunt?"

"Ok, but uh...can you...uh", he trails off, tugging on my shirt

"Oh yeah, of course", I answer, smiling, "Wanna see my boobs huh?"

"Yyy...yes", he answers truthfully

I nod, pulling my shirt off, his mouth dropping

Reaching behind me, I undo my bra, slide it down my arms then discard it and my shirt to the floor

When I look back at him, his eyes are huge again, his mouth wide open, his hands reaching out for my boobs

He stops just shy of touching me but I'm not having it

Grabbing his wrists, I pull his hands to me and push them on my boobs

"Oh fuck", he moans, my pussy clenching hearing him curse

His hands squeeze my boobs over and over, my nipples hard against his palm

"You're so....pretty", he whispers, his eyes drinking me in

His hands move down, his long fingers touching my body, tracing the tattoos I have when he gets to them

"You're perfect", he murmurs, shocking me, "Perfect"

Fuck, I need him inside me right now

I rise on my knees, aligning his cock to my hole, "Ready Hwannie?"

He nods, his hands moving back to the bed, palms flat against the sheets

I'll have to fix that when I'm sitting on his cock

He definitely needs to touch me

I sit on his fat head, a soft moan already out of his mouth

I push down, sliding him inside me slowly, letting both of us feel everything

His huge cock pushes into me, spreading me open so pleasurably

I clench on his cock over and over as I move down, sucking him in

"Oh god, oh my god", he cries, intense pleasure on his face

"Mm yeah Hwa, feels so good", I murmur, moving my hips in a circle as I go down his shaft, opening my pussy just a little more for him to fit in

"So good", he whines, "Oh shit"

I finally bottom him out, his head right against my spot, his cock so fat that there's no room to spare

A super snug fit that feels incredible

I rock on his dick, making his head rub my spot, sending shivers up spine

"Fuck", he pants as I reach for his hands and put them on my hips

"How does it feel?", I ask him, grinding on his cock, "How does my pussy feel?"

"So good!", he blurts, "It's so....wet. So warm. And tight. Are you supposed to be this tight?"

I smile, "Well, I've been told I'm tight before but your cock is also fucking huge Hwannie. You make me stretch around you and fill me so much"

"Does...does it hurt?"

I smile at his concern while he's practically unraveling underneath me, "No baby, it doesn't hurt. It feels good"

I slide up his dick then back down, his whimper so pretty

"Don't you feel how snug we are baby? How your big cock stuffs my pussy so perfectly?"

"Yes", he yells, "Yes, oh god"

I open my legs wide, leaning back on his legs, starting to bounce on his cock

I let the pleasure of his dick fill me- the drag of his shaft as he leaves my pussy, the full feeling of him sliding back in, the spark of ecstasy when his head hits my spot

I lean my head back, bouncing slowly but taking him in deep, hard

"Oh my god", I moan, in so much pleasure, "Fuck Seonghwa"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck", he chants

"Oh god, you're cock is so good", I whine, moving a bit faster, my pussy pulsing around his throbbing cock, "So hard for me. Feels so good Hwa"

I'm not lying

He fits inside me perfectly, making me spread around him so pleasurably, throwing my whole body into blissful shivers

I've never felt this good from sex before

It's been amazing but this...this is mind blowing

"Oh fuck", he cries, "Your pussy...so much....white...are you supposed to be..."

"Creamy?", I finish, moving my head, looking at him

His eyes are glued to my pussy riding his cock, his tongue poking out at the side of his mouth as he pants, sweat drenching his gorgeous body, his wet hair plastered to his face

He's so fucking ethereal, so fucking beautiful and he has no clue

"My pussy gets like this, so wet, creaming the cock I'm fucking when it feels incredibly good", I tell him, "How much is there?"

"So much", he answers immediately, "Pouring from your pussy. Covering my whole cock. All over my lap"

"Mmm", I smirk, my legs burning as I ride him but fuck it feels too amazing to stop, "I only cream a cock that much after I've fucked them for awhile. I've been riding you for only five minutes and I'm already that creamy. You know what that means?"

He shakes his head, his fingers digging into my hips so hard

"It means I love your cock inside me", I reveal, "It means your cock is the best I've ever fucked"

He murmurs incoherently, his cheeks blushing yet again

God he's so cute too

"Do you like that baby? That your cock is the best I've ever had inside me? That yours feels the best?"

"Yes", he whines, his cock throbbing hard, "I like that. I love it. Fuck"

I lean over him, my hands on his shoulders as I bounce as fast as I can, each hit to my spot bringing me closer and closer

"I'm gonna cum on your cock", I moan, my body shaking on top of him, "Can I cum on your cock Hwa?"

"Yes! Yes please! Yes", he shouts

His pleading and the sound of so much pleasure in his voice helps throw me over the edge, right into a mind shattering orgasm

"Seonghwa!", I cry, ecstasy rolling over me in waves as my pussy strangles his cock over and over, coming all over him

I feel myself cream his cock like I've never creamed one before, stars blasting in my eyes

"Fuck! Joanne!", he cries, "Feels so good! Fuck, oh my god, it feels so good"

"Cum inside my pussy Hwannie", I plead, still orgasming and wanting to feel him fill me so badly, "Fill my pussy with your cum"

"Joanne! Fuck! Jo!", he screams, his hips rising, his hands gripping me so tightly as he keeps me on him

His huge cock throbs, then shoots his warm sticky cum, my pussy greedily milking his cock

I want all of it

He screams wordlessly and I watch the stunning sight of him coming

His head pushes into my pillow, his eyes closed, tears falling down his face, sucking in breaths as he screams and shivers under me

"Hwa", I whimper, the last of the pleasure leaving my body the same time he finishes coming inside me

I stay on him, letting his orgasm end, watching him in pleasure

His eyes flutter open, unfocused, looking so fucked out

He looks so cute

I move my hand and wipe the tears away from his face, his eyes slowly moving to me and focusing

"Hi", I smile softly

"Hi", he smiles back

"Was it good?"

He nods shyly, "Amazing. I never expected it to feel that way. I...I didn't know something could....feel that good"

"I know what you mean", I say, moving off him and sitting next to him, "It hasn't felt that good before"

"Uh...really?", he asks, curiously

My face heats up as I realize what I just said

A virgin gave me the best sex of my life, his cock made me cum the hardest I've ever had

What the fuck?

"Uh yeah", I answer, avoiding his eyes

An awkward silence ensues and I need to leave

"So uh, I'm gonna take a shower", I tell him, standing up and inching towards the door, "I'll save some hot water so you can go in after me ok?"

He nods, shy again, his eyes on the floor, "Yea ok. Thank you"

I nod, "Sure"

I leave my room and basically sprint to the bathroom

I get the water on and get in the shower

But I can't get him out of my head

I can't get the images of how beautiful he looked under me out of my head

Of how hot he looked when he ate me out

Of the pleasure on his face when I blew him

And the feel of him inside me was so fucking incredible

Almost like he was made for me

Stop it

It was mostly likely a one time thing

I did what I wanted

I fucked my dorky but surprisingly hot stepbrother

I corrupted him a little bit, like I wanted to

It's over now

I force myself to stop thinking about him and continue my shower

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 day ago

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A Storm of Stars - Chapter Three.

I am updating a day early, besties, as I will be busy all day tomorrow. Enjoy!

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed.

Words - 4,062

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two

As the afternoon drew into the inky dusk of evening, Aemond found himself grow weary after being summoned to the small council, his brother the king requesting his presence. It seemed though to be little more than to continually rebuke his practical advice, Aemond left wondering for what end he had been called there at all.

“That will be all, my lords,” Aegon spoke from the head of the table, the men present as well as the dowager queen all rising. “Not you, Aemond. Be seated.”

He waited until they had left the room, nodding to the royal cup bearer to refill their wine goblets, lifting the freshly topped up vessel to his lips. “I keep you here as a courtesy as my brother, to inform you firstly before the others of my proposal going forth in our war effort.”

Aemond looked a touch pained to have been kept behind, his thumb absently spinning the Valyrian steel wedding band upon his fourth finger, as he often did when keen to return to his wife. Most persons of nobility chose gold, but he and his beloved had sought something a little different for theirs.

“I am listening.” He would at least extend the courtesy of that much, not that Aegon often partook in offering the same token.

“Our alliances are so far yielding good success, but what I wish to secure will take a certain differing strategy,” he began, another mouthful of wine gulped back. “The pretender unfortunately has the greater advantage in so much as she holds the pledge and loyalty of the north, an alliance I wish to snatch out from beneath her.”

A challenging commission if ever there was one, Aemond recognised. It was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms that House Stark embraced their loyalty to a fault. It would take much to turn the tides in their favour with Cregan Stark himself.

“And how do you propose such a task be accomplished?”

“That, Aemond, is simple,” he began, lifting his chin. “I will offer him a wife, and Lord Stark himself a seat at my small council. Men, even as noble as he, can always be seduced by the promise of power.”

He shook himself internally, not immediately able to recall an available Targaryen to offer as a bride. “How?” he questioned sharply. “The only women of our house who remain loyal to the Green and whom are of marital age are our own wives. Unless you seek to offer our mother, a proposition I cannot see her accepting.”

The king’s smile split his mouth almost sinisterly. “I do not propose such, but Aemella will be your wife no longer when I seek an annulment to your marriage, freeing her to carry out a greater duty for our side.”

Gods be good, the king could not be serious. Aemond balked, fury dancing in his eye. Was he dreaming? “You cannot possibly mean to use my wife as a mere pawn in your war effort.” he seethed, fingers clenching into fists on the table before him. “I will not allow it.”

Aegon’s expression remained unchanged, his demeanour disturbingly calm. “You misunderstand, brother. This is not a request. It is a command. For the good of our house, sacrifices must be made. You are loyal, are you not?”

“I am loyal to the Green,” he spat, “but even more so to Aemella. You ask too much of me, Aegon. This is madness.”

The king set his goblet down with a hard thud, his eyes narrowing. “Madness, you say? No, Aemond. Madness is you and Vhagar chasing our nephew through the eye of a storm to his demise. This is strategy. Cold, calculated strategy. The north will not bend easily, but they can be persuaded. Aemella is our best chance at solidifying our power.”

Except that it wasn’t strategy. This, Aemond knew well, was not solely confined to their efforts to strengthen their seat. Nay. Aegon, as ever, relished in the opportunity to toy with him. He honestly could not believe his ears, that his brother thought a plan so feeble, driven by his own need to exact cruelty upon him and little more, was by any means viable.

“If you suggest this in all sincerity, then brother, you are unfit to seat yourself upon the Iron Throne. A king does not entertain such follies. Besides, however would it look within court, hmm? To break up a harmonious marriage simply to achieve alliance?”

Aegon shrugged, smirking. “Your marriage is childless. A sham of a union by that token, some might suggest. An annulment would not be frowned upon. Besides, I am the king. What I fucking decree shall come to pass.”

“By choice, we are childless. You know why,” Aemond gritted, feeling his temper flickering further into life deep in the pit of his belly. While their lack of children might have been a bone of contusion for him at present, he would not take kindly to his relationship being labelled a sham because they remained barren. “When Mella wishes it so again, I will grant her offspring.”

The king’s voice broke on a burst of mocking laughter. “Do you even fuck her, brother? Or is the marriage merely you hiding in the skirts of our sister, too terrified of something real? You cling to the one you shared a womb with because you fear anything else. Seven hells, you probably fear her just as much,” he drawled, circling the rim of his wine goblet with a pointed finger.

Aemond clenched his teeth, the grinding noise audible. “You speak in ridiculous assertions based in mere fantasy. As ever. Anything to demean me.”

Leaning forward, Aegon was enthralled to have received a reaction. His younger brother’s words were calm, but his demeanour lacked it. It there was ever a way to get to Aemond, it was through his twin. “You do. I see it in your eye. When you were thirteen, you refused my offer to take you to a brothel, so you might know what it is to wet your cock. You likely still do not. Tsk, tsk.”

And on he continued with his streaming torment. “Poor Aemella, shackled to a man who fears her cunt too much to go anywhere near it. Was there ever a child at all, or perhaps you arranged another to lay with her in order to sire the babe who was never to be?”

His nostrils flared, remembering the harrowing night, holding a bloodied, wailing Aemella in his arms after their loss, trying in some way to comfort the intense pain his darling wife had suffered. “I will not allow this to stand, Aegon. My marriage is not subject to annulment for political gain or otherwise. We need not forge any new alliances – northern or otherwise – through betrothal.

“Myself and Vhagar, Aemella and Fyreclaw, we are the most competent dragonriders within the realm. Sending her north is an action with little merit behind it. She is needed here. Her place is here, at my side. As it always has been and shall be to come.”

Aegon lifted his chin, his top lip curling. “If I set the order that she is to be married to house Stark, then it is not for you to argue.” Oh, how his brother very much begged to differ, unable to truly believe this spite driven agenda was sincerely his plan of action.

“May I remind you that I was called to your council to do just that; counsel. Not to hear of ridiculous ideas cooked up in order to needlessly break up my marriage. Be honest, Aegon. You do not seek to marry off Aemella in order to forge stronger alliances in our time of war. You seek it to feed your own perverse interest in punishing me.”

Aegon laughed once again, lifting his wine goblet to his lips. “And to what end is this perceived punishment, dear brother?”

He did not hesitate in stating the obvious. “For my role in earning the title of kinslayer, first and foremost.” Indeed, Aegon could not argue with such an assertion, Aemond continuing.

“You also wish to keep me as far from the throne as humanly possible. The rest is mere cruelty, a twisted game. Rather childish, I find. And to think, I am the younger of us. Then again, I was always a threat, was I not? After all, you never sought this, never wanted it either.” He leaned forward in his seat, his eye narrowing. “Now is not the time to play your petulant games, Aegon. Now is the time for us to stand unified.”

With a deliberate, measured breath, the king considered his brother's words. He swirled the deep red liquid in his goblet, his eyes closing momentarily as he seemed to calculate his next move. Aemond's steadfast resolve was a formidable barrier, one that Aegon had tested countless times before. Most of the time as children, he’d broken it, but his brother was undoubtedly much stronger in character than he had once been.

"Do not mistake me for a fool, Aemond," he finally spoke, his tone laced with a blend of amusement and underlying threat. "Your love for our sister is undeniable, but love does not always align with duty. The realm demands sacrifices, and sometimes those sacrifices come at the expense of personal desires."

Aemond's gaze remained unyielding, his determination unwavering. "I will continue to assume you the fool if you let your hostility toward me drive your agenda. Especially at a time of war.”

“A war your foolhardy actions ignited,” Aegon spat, poking his index finger onto the table aggressively. “Would I be so wrong to punish you for that?”

“Yes, and I tire of having this thrown at me by you and our mother at every given opportunity!” he began, his words strong, voice set to the conviction he felt inside that no, he would not continually be blamed over the semantics of their current position. “Whether I had been the catalyst or not, we both know the pretender would never relinquish her claim. That is a given. War was inevitable!”

Leaning back, he picked up his goblet, draining the contents. “I will not sacrifice my love, my wife, for the sake of a fleeting political advantage. Our bond is unbreakable, and no decree from the crown will change that." Rising from the table, he turned, storming toward the door, beyond exhausted by the measure of his brother and his ridiculous games.

“I was not asking you, Aemond.”

Pivoting on his heel, he lifted his chin. “No, but I am telling you. If you push this ahead then you go to war with me, too. Distension within these walls will not lead to your victory. Only your downfall. Choose wisely.”

Returning to his quarters, he dreaded having to reveal the state of play to Aemella, knowing of course his usually calm and well-measured wife would likely - to put it mildly – be plunged into nothing less than tempestuous fury.

“Mella?” he called, entering the living area of their quarters, taking a beaker and decanting into it a large measure of rum, bolting it back in one gulp. Turning, he saw her move through the room, aiming a nod to where he poured himself a second measure.

“Your meeting with our brother went successfully, then?”

Her light sarcasm was met with a stony face, Aemond taking a seat. “Trust me. Once I have revealed the news I hold, you might find yourself in need of similar fortification.” He patted the space beside him, sipping his drink before placing the beaker upon the table. “Come, sit. You must promise me, though, that you will not fly into incandescence.”

Her heart jolted sharply, unsure she could uphold such a vow. “Well, husband. That all depends on what it is that I am about to learn.” Sitting at his side, her hand went to his thigh, resting atop the lean, hard muscle beneath his britches, ready to hear his news. Once it had been revealed, she did not remain seated for much longer.

“He cannot seriously seek to enact this?” she cried, her eyes wide and usual cool composure all but lost.

Aemond nodded. “He does, and he is a fool for it. I told him as much.”

“A fool? Brother, that is putting it in the mildest of terms!” Her voice cracked on a sudden gasp of laughter, throwing her hands to the heavens. “He will make himself a laughingstock! Annulling his sibling’s marriage in order to marry his sister off in hopes of a forged alliance with Cregan Stark? Has his lost his mind entirely?” She began to pace, Aemond leaving her to her need as he remained seated.

“He thinks that little of our union as to order its dissolution for political gain, a gain he isn’t likely to successfully attain? We all know how strong a bond is with the Stark’s and their word. Cregan will no more back away from his pledge to Rhaenyra with the promise of a bride and a seat upon the small council dangled before him than he would the threat of burning Winterfell to its foundations with dragon fire!”

Her husband sighed, sinking his rum. “Reason is lost upon him. He seeks this of course not merely as a feather in his cap for our war effort, but mostly to spite me. I instructed that this truly was not the time nor place for his games, to exact his personal vendetta against me further.” His mouth tightened, nostrils flaring. “He did that to me enough when we were children.”

Aemella's pacing slowed as she processed the weight of Aemond's words. Her eyes, once wide with fury, now narrowed with determination. "Then we must be ready for what comes next," she declared, her voice resolute. "If Aegon wishes to tear us apart for his own gain – or under the masquerade that this is to fortify alliances - he will find us unyielding. We will not be pawns in his reckless game."

He reached out, halting her pacing and taking her hand firmly in his. "You are right, my love. We stand together, and together we are stronger than he could ever imagine." He paused, a spark of defiance lighting his gaze. “Besides, there is a way we could make this ridiculousness cease before he truly has chance to set the wheels in motion.”

She caught his drift immediately, a flash of trepidation flickering in her eyes. She knew, though. It would kill his plan dead, should this preposterous scheme to have their marriage annulled ever come to fruition.

Aemella was not naive enough to think that Aemond wouldn’t personally relish in getting his own way by extension, too, but truly, the gravitas of the situation meant that she had little choice but to allow it. It was the only way to put a stumbling block before their brother.

“He cannot dissolve our marriage and send me north if I am carrying your child.”

Even though it had been his suggestion, he still looked upon her with care, remembering well her hurt after their very recent quarrels on the matter. “It is the perfect counteraction to his treachery. Are you quite ready for such, for us to try again? You made your stance very clear only this morning.”

He received his answer in Aemella lifting her dress, seating herself astride him, her skirts pooling in froth around his hips as she leaned to press her mouth to his. Her kiss was all honeyed embers, her tongue rolling slowly with his as his hands moved to bracket her slender waist.

“Take me to bed and fill me with your seed, my love.”

He did not need to be asked twice.

Clothes were shed, the alluring dance of hands delighting over bodies they knew inside and out, soft moans peppering the air between kisses borne of fever and need. There in his wife’s embrace, though, Aemond still struggled to truly shake the king’s words from his mind.

“He said I feared you, you know,” he muttered bitterly, his hands gliding her curves, one lowering to gently cup at her sex. “Your cunt specifically.”

Aemella snorted on a chuckle. “Oh, darling husband. For a man who fears it, you certainly do spend ample time within it.”

“Just as I plan to tonight, as I so sweetly task myself with putting a babe in your womb, my love.”

Even through his pledged resolve, Aemella still felt turbulence coiling through him. She always did read him flawlessly, sensing his need for her to take charge of him for a while, banish what haunted his thoughts like phantoms.

Turning him onto his back, her fingers weaved with his, squeezing his big hands in hers. “Lie back, my beloved. Let me show you how much I hunger for you at my mercy.”

Desire danced in his eye, as well as a little playful objection to countenance. “Oh, I am to acquiesce to your dominance, darling wife?”

“Yes, you are” she purred reaching to the bedpost, her fingers curling around the ever-present length of black rope looped around the heavy wood. “And if you do not,” she continued, threading it over his wrists, “I shall force it.”

A sharp tug had him sufficiently bound, a soft grunt of appreciation welling in his throat. “Then it looks as if I am without further option but to allow it.”

“I will untie you again,” she pledged, scattering a descending path of kisses upon his chest. “Eventually.”

His eyebrow fluttered. “You enjoy my hands too much to keep me bound for long, love.” He watched her mouth lowering, tongue licking along the thin line of silver hair descending his navel, leading to the thicker, but well-groomed thatch above his cock. As soon as her mouth closed around his hardness, his head rolled back onto the bed, a groan fluttering from his lips. He’d needed this for hours.

“Gods, Mella,” he panted, lifting his head once more to watch himself vanish into her mouth. “I... I... fuck. My words fail me.”

“Then for once, be quiet, husband. Not too quiet, though.” Indeed, he was not, the groans she pulled from his throat upon flickering her tongue over the very tip of his cock all smoke and grit, her mouth swallowing him back again tantalisingly slowly.

He was heavy and wide between her lips, the salty tang of leaky fluid mingling on her tongue as she slid her mouth as far as it would go, using her hand on the remaining inches. She thought herself the luckiest of women, married to a handsome man she not only adored beyond measure, but with a long, thick cock he knew exactly how to use.

The sound of the rope pulling as his arms tensed brought her delight, his hips shivering as pleasure corded through him. He twitched against her tongue as she tightened the pressure, her cheeks hollowing, watching the way all of his chiselled muscles danced beneath his pale, blemish free skin.

While the prince and princess spent their evening favouring the pleasures of one another, not much could bring the same to their brother. Aegon sat alone in his quarters, his hand steadfastly clutched around a wine goblet, drinking to his usual excess to quell his burdens.

He stewed in fury over the reckless tactics implemented by his brother, thinking Aemond should be lucky that marrying their sister off to a Stark was the only punishment he was receiving.

“A war criminal, instigator of this wretched mess we find ourselves in, and he can only continue to think of himself?” he gritted, draining the goblet. “Pompous fucking twat!”

More wine was poured hastily, Aegon feeling restless and prickled to his very bones. He did not trust that his brother might not once again show such abandon, be ignited by the short fuse of his temper. After all, the king knew well how powerful Aemomd was capable of being.

It was why he had always sought to make him feel less than, bring him down to a size he could more easily manage. He would have exerted much further cruelty upon him too, had it not been for Aemella standing so rigidity in her twin’s corner.

Without her there at his side, Aemomd would be half the man he was. To part them would destroy him, render him powerless in his quest to – as the king so asserted – usurp the throne from beneath him by devious means. What he ultimately failed to realise, though, was that the calming influence of Aemella was perhaps the only buffer that prevented Aemond becoming as unhinged as he probably would without her.

This aside, it was not solely his own paranoia over such that drove his decision, though. Within Aegon, a streak of envy ran just as deep as the gorge of inferiority.

He had never wished to be married to his sibling, the union bore him not one ounce of contentment. Witnessing his brother and sister in such matrimonial harmony twisted sharp in the pit of his guts. Aemond loved her more than life itself, was entirely happy with her, and there was he, betrothed to his oddity of a sister, without one ounce of Aemella’s intelligence or grace.

In short, he hated what they had, that fierce fury leaving him to sink so much wine within his quarters, he swayed in drunkenness while making his way to theirs. Nearing the guarded door, he could hear muffled noises from behind the heavy wood, ordering Ser Arryk to move aside before flinging the door open.

There on the bed, he witnessed the sight of his sister spread before Aemond, his mouth buried at her apex. Aemond jumped a little, freezing as embarrassment misted over him, Aemella covering her breasts with her arms.

That bashfulness soon retreated, though, when Aemond realised that on this occasion, he had the definite upper hand over his brother. Perhaps it was high time that the tormented become the tormentor.

Looking up over the rise of her covered breasts, he released his suck upon her with a soft little slurp.

“Can I help you, brother?” he spoke, the king staring piercingly at the scene, swaying as he grasped the door for support. At least Ser Arryk had the good grace to turn around and avert his eyes.

“I’ve... and you... I’ve...” he slurred, chagrin pinking his cheeks.

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Allow me to guess,” he smirked, “you’ve come to witness for yourself how much I fear my wife’s cunt, hmm?” He placed a quick lick to her bud, making her jolt and gasp through her chuckles, her laughter aimed at the ridiculousness of their elder sibling. He then sat up, holding his gaze defiantly, steering his cock to sink into the cunt he so allegedly feared right to the very hilt.

It only added further insult to injury, for Aegon to notice that his younger brother also happened to be hung like a horse.

“If you’ll excuse me, your grace. I’d rather not make love to my wife with an audience. Unless of course, you wish to perhaps learn something about what it is to pleasure a woman? If so, then by all means, do stay.”

Having his shame tactics turned back on him to such an extent, Aegon felt his ire glow white-hot, only serving to embarrass himself further by releasing the door to storm over toward the bed, making it all of three steps before ending up in a drunken heap.

“Ser Arryk, if you would be so kind to escort the king back to his quarters,” Aemond called, lifting Aemella from the bed to protect her modesty in front of him, the knight entering and coming to the king’s assist. Aegon made little protest to fight, so annihilated he was upon the wine he truly did not have the stomach for.

The door closed softly, Aemond smirking. “Mittys.” he hissed quietly, turning his full attention back to his wife, who did indeed agree their brother to be much the idiot.

While the drunken ruler was taken to his bed, the love and passion shared between his siblings was ignited to roaring flame within theirs. And, just maybe, the beginnings of what would make his dastardly plans to part them an impossibility.

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :)

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #HOTD #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond and aemella #a storm of stars

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letterstoalonewolf · 2 days ago

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Always, My Darling

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, love means letting someone else carry the weight—if only for a moment.

───────────────────────────────

Because you were the High Lady of the Night Court.

And High Ladies didn’t fall apart.

You worried for them all. Poured yourself into fixing their burdens. You could handle it. You had to handle it.

But somewhere in the hollow ache of your heart, you wondered how long you could keep pretending you weren’t drowning.

You didn’t hear Rhysand enter.

The furrow between your brows. The restless tapping of your foot. The way your fingers twisted your wedding ring—a nervous habit he’d noticed long ago.

And then he moved.

Swift, graceful, predatory in the way only he could be.

You barely had time to react before strong arms swept you from your chair, your body lifted effortlessly against the solid warmth of his chest.

"Rhys!" you squeaked, clutching at his shoulders as papers fluttered to the floor like snowflakes. "What are you—put me down!"

His response was a soft hum, his lips finding your temple in a kiss so gentle it unraveled something tight in your chest.

"I’ve seen enough," he murmured against your skin, his voice a velvet caress.

You squirmed in his hold, your protests weak and half-hearted. "I have work to do. The Solstice is next week, and the logistics—"

He set you down on the cool marble counter, his hands lingering at your waist before sliding up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, tilting your head so your gaze met his.

And gods, those eyes.

Violet, flecked with starlight and shadows, filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"Rhys," you whispered, trying to summon your earlier indignation. "What are we doing? We don’t have time for this."

His smile was soft, knowing.

"Darling, I don’t mean to hush you, but… hush."

"You, my mesmerizing mate, are too stressed out for your own good," he murmured between kisses. "I don’t want you to worry about a single thing tonight. I’ll take care of it."

The words unraveled you more than you cared to admit.

"But I can handle it," you blurted, your voice trembling. "I’m the High Lady. This is my duty. I know what I’m doing."

Rhys didn’t argue.

He just listened.

As you spilled excuses, listing responsibilities like armor, he rubbed slow, soothing circles into your tense shoulders, his lips brushing against your skin in feather-light touches.

"S’alright, baby," he whispered eventually, his voice rough with emotion. "I know. I know you can handle it. I know you’re brilliant and capable and strong."

His hands framed your face again, his thumbs catching the tear you hadn’t realized had escaped.

"But if I’m being honest… sometimes I get overwhelmed too."

The admission hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"And when that happens," he continued softly, "do you know what I need?"

You shook your head, your throat tight.

"I need you." His voice was raw, a fragile truth laid bare. "I just need you close to me."

Tears welled in your eyes, the dam breaking under the weight of his love.

You didn’t bother pretending anymore.

The smallest quirk of your lips was all the permission he needed.

The tension bled from your muscles, replaced by warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

"You always take care of everyone else," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "Let me take care of you."

And for the first time in too long, you let him.

You let yourself be held. Loved. Cherished.

Sleep claimed you, soft and irresistible, as Rhysand’s voice was the last thing you heard:

"I’ve got you, my darling. Always."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊

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tellmegoodbye · 2 days ago

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Well...this is it you guys. The final day of our beloved 911 Lone Star. I'm feeling very overwhelmed about this.

To cope with that, I've decided to share a few apocalypse-esque songs that have me in my feels today. No explanations this time. Just vibes.

And don't worry, because even though our show is coming to an end, so long as our fandom is here we will always have music monday!

When The End Comes - Andrew Belle

Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes, oh I don't say I hardly knew you, oh 'Cause where would I be then when the end comes? Looks like you're living out on an island Did you leave a number where I would find it? You get along, your head is clouded Your lungs are full of air, but you're drowning, drowning

11:59 - Michael Franti

It was eleven fifty-nine and fifty-nine clicks. The whole world's burning, but the clock just ticks. Some people cry, others occupy, throw your hands high as the bullets fly by. I dry my eyes, others wonder why, but I just wanna be with you till the day I die One love, one blood, one heart, one soul and one drum and only one rhythm, One tribe and all of us singing. It's eleven fifty-nine and fifty-nine seconds. If I'm gonna die tonight I want heaven, ay, ay, with you.

World's On Fire - Mike Shinoda

It all fell apart, don't know where to start Everything moves so slow I can't get a break, it's too much to take But closing my eyes I know

When the world's on fire, all I need is you I don't always think to say it, but it's true When I just wanna disappear You're the one who keeps me here The world's on fire, all I need is you

Tagging: @strandnreyes @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet

@ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @herefortarlos @literateowl @eclectic-sassycoweyes @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @carlos-tk @rangersoup

@carlossreaders @reeeallygood @goldenskykaysani @toomanycupsoftea @kiwichaeng @goodways @firstprince-history-huh @certifiedflower @freneticfloetry @guardian-angle22 @annoyingcloudearthquake + open tag

#har rambles #music monday #911ls music mondays #music tag #911 lone star

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ghostpebble · 2 months ago

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"#i carry your heart with me by ee cummings"

i got to sing that with my choir and when i say the song does SO right by the poem, the story feels so much like pouring your heart out because you can't keep it all inside

Alright tell me in the tags, what’s Your Poem? That poem you heard once and it has dwelt within you ever since?

#i carry your heart with me by ee cummings #<- prev tag #i cried on stage #and during rehearsal #“and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant #and whatever the sun will always sing is you“#AND #“i want no world for beautiful you are my world”#“and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart”#LIKE HELLO??? SOMEONE PUT ME DOWN #OLD YELLER ME #THAT POEM IS ALREADY TOO SWEET AND HAVING TO SING IT WAS A DEATH SENTENCE #someone wrote that #someone loved someone and wrote that to tell someone else they loved someone #crying again sorry #just wanted to let you know you should listen to the song version

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clairenovaking · 1 month ago

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it's the wonder that keeps the stars apart

“Didn’t think I’d see a day when hunters kept a witch safe,” he calls, and a low snarl emits from Sam’s chest. Dean nearly throws his brother a glare over his shoulder, but he’s not keen on taking his eyes off the threat, so his grip on his gun tightens, and he lifts it haughtily. “Might as well just turn around,” he says, and shrugs a shoulder. “Witch killin’ bullets, and all." That, at least, gets a reaction from them- they step back slightly, wariness in their eyes as they examine Dean’s relaxed posture despite the raised gun. But then the woman speaks, and Rowena stiffens, eyes darting to Sam across the circle. “Should use those on her, with what she’s carryin’.”

or, while on the hunt for Lucifer, two witches force Rowena and Sam's hand into revealing a secret they've been keeping. Or rather- Rowena's been carrying.

chapter one now posted!

#samwena #rowena macleod #sam winchester #castiel #dean winchester #spn fic #it's the wonder that keeps the stars apart #otp: dibs on samuel #uh...i did not mean to bust out 5k words this morning and yet. here i am!

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youngpettyqueen · 11 months ago

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I love this argument that Julian and Garak are having about Earth vs Cardassia political styles and I especially love that Garak is like. shocked at how impassioned he is about this topic

#star trek: ds9 #a stitch in time #julian bashir #elim garak #this is JUICY #this is fascinating #fascinating fascinating fascinating #like. yes of course Julian is all for Earth democracy and he wants Cardassia to follow in that #but more importantly he wants GARAK to follow in that #he keeps trying to convince Garak to come to Earth!! and this is established as being a recurring thing #and I love that Garak is VERY resistant to this #obviously the way this is presented is clouded by Garak's own annoyance but this does track with Julian as a character #where he thinks he has the solution and he's confident about it but he doesnt have all the context #so of course he thinks democracy would solve Cardassia's political problems #and sure yes Cardassia at this point does very much need a change in its political systems #but the way Julian explains it- as written in this section- comes across as incredibly condescending #and I LOOOOOVE that Garak is pissed about it!!#because while I think Garak sees that things on Cardassia need to change- what would Julian know about it?#what would Julian TRULY know?#so hearing him confidently explain that the answer is Earth and Federation-style democracy #like it's just that easy #no wonder he gets pissed!#because he cares! he cares about Cardassia and his people so much it hurts!#and being reminded of this takes him by surprise!#especially that he's mad at Julian of all people #I love this insight into how he views him and Julian as having drifted apart #I did not read it like that in the show itself #god I cant wait to rewatch with this in mind

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mira0000000-blog · 5 months ago

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Brain shadup

#have a comic idea but i dont know how to make that lol #its Nier automata shit like #2B and 9S find an old space museum #and then there is that room that simulates the planets and stars #and then 9s is like man i wonder how it was like when humans could see the starys before earth fucking stopped turning #and then pod 042 pipes in saying that all the humans residing in the safe bunker never saw the stars before going to space either #because of pollution and shit #and this is just like them because the only time they can see the real stars is when they are in space #so maybe they have a shared experience #9S asks some stuff like why was it so polluted and pod's answer basically boil down to capitalism and stuff #kinda like when they visit the abandoned apartment complex and 9s asks why its like that and pod is like.housing crisis.#idk i really loved the moments in the game where they were constantly deluded of what they think humans are like because they are programmed #to adore and love them unconditionally as if they were gods #“we were made in their image after all”#they keeo trying to find things that connects them #in the end the simulation running in the background generates a shooting star and 9s is like wait humans make wishes under these #and he wishes for something he and 2B can do after the war #he looks at 2B waiting for a reaction but she barely reacts and is ready to get out of there and keep going on their mission #but another shooting star appears and she wishes for the war to end. so 9S wish can be possible #9s says that wish is very lame and she doesnt say it but she thinks “and you are too hopeful”#with ohhh ominous final panel of her stabbing 9s cos u know the never ending cycleee #like in a fucked up way the only one that will remember his wish is her because he cant keep his memories after shes ordered to kill him #if the war ends in this “incarnation” he will at least remember it #its so fucked upp #like the hoomans..the hoomans arent comin guys #its all a liee

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afleur-de-peau · 1 year ago

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[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

#I remembered this poem and it takes on a meaning I had never imagined now that Guillaume has passed #I also remember sending my (cheating) across the ocean ex-lover a package with several Amelie Nothomb books translated into English #and writing on the reverse of the card where his address was (“and it’s the wonder that keeps the stars apart)

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shoesfromoxfam · 7 months ago

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Saw someone wondering about how the buildings in gotham are chipped from years of the bats grappling everywhere and am now imagining

- the bats swing around all the time but in certain areas they tend to parkour instead of grapple

- after a couple of them have close calls of falling, gothamites realise its bc the buildings are too weak in places to use the hooks safely anymore

- in starts in one neighborhood but quickly spreads throughout gotham; people get into the habit of checking their roofs for chips and cracks and start painting them

- different places do it different ways, some people use bright neon colours, an apartment block keeps a tin of glow-in-the-dark paint in the rooftop garden for anyone to use, one children's shelter fills the chips in with glitter glue

- slowly but surely the gotham skyline becomes a starry night with stars of paint and colour, marking the weakpoints so they can be seen even in the darkest of the city's nights

#pls i just live for gothamites looking out for the bats #batfamily #batfam #batman #robin #red robin #red hood #nightwing #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #gotham #dc comics

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fvsm4x · 18 days ago

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Manwhore Roommate - gojo s.

synopsis. After a string of failed attempts to find a new place to live, you reluctantly agree to share an apartment with Satoru Gojo—a cocky, flirty, and insufferably attractive guy known for his endless roster of hookups and carefree lifestyle. From the very first day, his personality clashes with your grounded, no-nonsense demeanor. You’re determined to keep things strictly platonic and avoid getting caught up in his games, but Gojo thrives on breaking rules

+ warnings/content. Roommate! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader - roommate AU - gojo is a manwhore - pinning - MNDI/mature themes - suggestive - teasing/touching - reader is described to have an big ass - gojo is annoying - eventual smut - not proofread

+ wc. 9 k

The apartment smelled faintly of old takeout, worn leather, and something warm and musky—like cologne. Not an overpowering scent, but the kind that lingered, deeply embedded in the fabric of the place. You paused in the doorway, fingers tightening around the handle of your suitcase, staring at the chaos ahead.

The living room was barely holding it together. A hoodie—black, probably expensive—was slung haphazardly over the back of a couch with stuffing poking out of one armrest. The coffee table was an explosion of clutter: unopened mail, a stack of coasters that clearly weren’t being used, a half-empty bottle of water lying on its side. Sneakers were scattered like an afterthought near the door, and one single sock lay abandoned under the TV stand.

You inhaled slowly, letting the air out through your nose. “So…this is it?”

Behind you, Satoru Gojo leaned lazily against the doorframe, the picture of smug satisfaction. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed about the state of his apartment. If anything, he looked like he’d just scored some kind of victory.

“Welcome to Casa Gojo,” he said with a grin, spreading his arms wide as if presenting a five-star hotel. “Cozy, huh?”

You gave him a flat look. “Cozy isn’t the word I’d use.”

He laughed, shameless and loud, brushing past you into the living room. “Don’t worry, you’ll warm up to it. It’s got character. Charm. A certain je ne sais quoi.”

“It’s got a mess,” you muttered under your breath, dragging your suitcase inside.

Gojo either didn’t hear you or pretended not to. He was already in the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. The door creaked ominously as he surveyed its contents, completely unfazed by the questionable state of the shelves. From where you stood, you could see a carton of eggs that looked suspiciously close to their expiration date, a pizza box taking up an entire shelf, and…was that a single slice of cake just sitting there, uncovered?

“You hungry?” he asked, grabbing a soda and cracking it open with one hand. “We’ve got, uh…” He leaned in for a closer look. “Eggs. And, uh, mystery leftovers. Oh, wait, there’s pizza.”

“I’m good,” you said quickly, already regretting this decision.

You never imagined your life would lead to this—standing in the doorway of Satoru Gojo’s chaotic apartment, wondering if you’d made the worst decision of your life. Just a few weeks ago, things had been fine. Stable, even. You had your own one-bedroom apartment—a tiny but cozy space that you’d worked hard to afford. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. The shower had a slow drip that your landlord swore wasn’t “worth fixing,” and the heating was practically non-existent in the winter, but it was yours.

Then the pipe burst.

You’d come home after a long day to find your kitchen under several inches of water. Your landlord, of course, didn’t pick up your frantic calls until hours later, and when he finally showed up, all he could offer was a half-hearted apology and a shrug. “It’ll take a couple weeks to fix,” he’d said. “Maybe more. I’ll call someone.”

“Where am I supposed to go in the meantime?” you’d demanded, trying to wring water out of your socks without screaming.

He’d just looked at you blankly, as though it wasn’t his problem.

The next few days had been a blur of packing, moving what little you could salvage into storage, and hopping between temporary places to stay. Your best friend let you crash on her couch for a while, but she lived with her boyfriend, and you felt like a third wheel every time you stayed too long. Hotels were an option, but they were expensive, and your savings were already taking a massive hit. Every apartment you found online was either laughably out of your budget or in parts of the city you wouldn’t visit during daylight, let alone live in.

You were running out of options—and patience—when a mutual friend brought up Satoru Gojo.

At first, you thought it was a joke.

“Gojo?” you’d asked, incredulous. “Satoru Gojo? The guy who can’t take anything seriously? The guy who’s practically a walking HR violation?”

Your friend had laughed. “I mean, yeah, that’s one way to describe him. But his old roommate moved out, and he’s got an extra room. Rent’s dirt cheap, too. He could probably use the help.”

You’d bristled at the idea immediately. Satoru Gojo was infamous—not just for his looks, which, fine, you could grudgingly admit were objectively attractive, but for his personality. He was the type of guy who could charm the pants off anyone—literally. A shameless flirt, perpetually smug, and somehow always the center of attention, Gojo wasn’t exactly what you’d call roommate material. The thought of sharing a living space with him sounded more like a punishment than a solution.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t have many other choices.

It wasn’t like Gojo was a bad person—annoying, yes, but not bad. And the friend who suggested him had insisted that, beneath all the arrogance, he was actually pretty decent. “Besides,” they’d added with a grin, “it’s not like you’re gonna fall for him or anything, right? You’ll just be roommates.”

You weren’t so sure. You’d heard the stories—how Gojo had serenaded someone’s girlfriend at karaoke, how he’d once flirted his way out of a parking ticket, how he never seemed to take anything seriously. But your savings were dwindling, your patience was running thin, and no one else was offering you an affordable place to stay.

So, against your better judgment, you’d dialed his number.

“Yo,” he’d answered after the second ring, his voice casual and teasing, as if he’d been expecting you. “Calling to confess your undying love for me? Finally?”

You’d rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “No, Gojo. I need a place to stay. Someone said you’re looking for a roommate.”

“Oh?” His tone had shifted slightly, curiosity laced with amusement. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you’d replied through gritted teeth. “I just don’t like you. Big difference.”

He’d laughed, loud and unbothered. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t need my roommates to like me. I just need them to pay rent on time and not steal my snacks or. So, what do you think? Wanna shack up with the great Satoru Gojo?”

You’d hesitated, gripping your phone tightly. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to hang up and find another option, but logic didn’t have a flooded apartment and a rapidly draining bank account.

“When can I move in?” you’d asked finally, your voice resigned.

“Tomorrow, if you want,” he’d said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “But, uh, fair warning—my place is a little messy. I wasn’t expecting company.”

“How messy are we talking?”

“…You’ll see.”

Now here you were, standing in Satoru Gojo’s living room, suitcase in one hand, a growing sense of regret in the other. The place wasn’t just messy—it was alive with chaos. The kind of chaos that didn’t just happen overnight but had clearly been cultivated over weeks, maybe months.

Gojo sauntered back into the living room, his soda can dangling from his fingers as he leaned against the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. He tilted his head at you, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“You look tense,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of the open floor plan?”

“It’s not the floor plan I’m worried about,” you muttered, eyeing the lone sock under the TV stand. “Do you even own a vacuum?”

“Sure do,” he said, pointing to a closet near the hallway. “It’s, uh…in there somewhere.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you ever use it?”

He grinned, shameless. “Why bother? You’re here now. I’m sure you’ll whip this place into shape in no time.”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Mostly. But hey, it’s not so bad, right? It’s got character.”

“Character,” you repeated flatly, glancing around at the cluttered surfaces, the mismatched furniture, the pile of laundry peeking out from behind the couch. “Right.”

Gojo didn’t seem the least bit bothered by your disapproval. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying it. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you take in your surroundings, his grin never wavering.

“Come on,” he said, pushing off the counter and gesturing toward the hallway. “I’ll show you your room.”

You followed him reluctantly, dragging your suitcase over the uneven floorboards. The hallway was narrow, lined with a few framed photos that looked like they’d been thrown up haphazardly. One was crooked, and you resisted the urge to straighten it as you passed.

“Oh, heads up—the walls are kinda weird. My old roommate had this thing for, like, anime posters or whatever. I didn’t bother taking them down.”

“Great,” you muttered,

“Here we are,” Gojo said, stopping in front of the last door on the left. He pushed it open with a dramatic flourish, stepping aside to let you in. “Home sweet home.”

You stepped inside and stopped in your tracks.

The room wasn’t bad, exactly—it was bigger than you’d expected, with a decent-sized window and a closet that didn’t look like it was falling apart. But the walls…

Gojo hadn’t been kidding about his old roommate. The walls were plastered with posters—bright, garish, and all of them anime-themed. Characters with oversized eyes and gravity-defying hair stared back at you from every surface, their poses dynamic and exaggerated. One corner featured a particularly dramatic sword-wielding figure, while another was dominated by a group of girls in school uniforms mid-pose.

You blinked. “What…is this?”

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly trying not to laugh. “What? You don’t like anime? My old roommate was a big fan.”

“This isn’t a room,” you said, gesturing at the walls. “It’s a shrine.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. You might learn something.”

You turned to glare at him, but he was already laughing, the sound echoing down the hallway.

“If it bothers you that much, you can take them down,” he said between chuckles. “Or leave them up. Maybe they’ll grow on you.”

“I’m taking them down,” you said firmly, setting your suitcase down by the bed.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, straightening up and heading back toward the living room. “Dinner’s on me tonight, by the way. Consider it a ‘welcome to the madhouse’ gift.”

“Generous of you,” you called after him, already making a mental list of everything you’d need to clean, fix, and replace.

As his footsteps faded, you sat down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long sigh. The apartment was a mess, Gojo was insufferable, and you were pretty sure the next few months were going to test every ounce of patience you had.

But at least it was a roof over your head.

For now, that was enough.

You spent the rest of the afternoon settling into your new room. The posters came down immediately, but not without a fight. Whoever had put them up had used enough tape to secure a small building, and by the time you’d peeled off the last one, your fingers were sore, and you were pretty sure you’d taken a chunk of paint with you.

The bed was another ordeal. The mattress wasn’t terrible, but the sheets Gojo had left on it were…questionable. They smelled faintly of old laundry detergent, with an underlying note of cologne. You made a mental note to wash them tomorrow and just threw your own blanket over the top for now.

The rest of the room wasn’t much better. The closet door creaked ominously when you opened it, and the lightbulb in the ceiling fixture flickered every time you turned it on. But it was manageable. Barely.

As evening rolled around, you finally emerged from your room to find Gojo sprawled across the couch, a gaming controller in his hands and the volume on the TV set way too high. Some kind of fast-paced shooting game flashed across the screen, the sound of gunfire and explosions filling the living room.

“Hey,” you said, stepping into the chaos. “What happened to dinner?”

“Huh?” He glanced over his shoulder at you, one hand still expertly working the controller. “Oh, yeah. About that…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Forgot? Never.” He grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I ordered takeout.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

“See?” he said, pausing the game and hopping to his feet. “I’m a man of my word.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the door, curious about what he’d ordered. When he opened it, a delivery guy handed over two large bags of food, the smell immediately filling the apartment.

“Hope you like ramen,” Gojo said, setting the bags down on the coffee table and plopping back onto the couch.

You eyed the bags suspiciously. “That’s a lot of ramen for two people.”

“Is it?” He pulled out a container and handed it to you with a pair of chopsticks. “What can I say? I like to keep my options open.”

You sat down on the far end of the couch, making a point to keep some distance between you. The ramen, at least, smelled incredible, and you had to admit you were starving.

“So,” he said, between bites, his voice annoyingly casual. “First impressions? How do you like living with me so far?”

You gave him a look, setting your container down on the coffee table. “Do you want the truth, or should I sugarcoat it?”

“Truth,” he said, grinning like he already knew what you were going to say.

You leaned back, crossing your arms. “Your apartment is a disaster. You’re loud, you don’t clean, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to regret this decision within a week.”

Gojo didn’t look remotely offended. In fact, he looked downright entertained. “Wow. rough. Just the way that I like it”

You groaned, picking up your ramen again. “I don’t know how anyone puts up with you.”

“Oh, plenty of people put up with me, if you know what i mean—” he said, winking. “But you’ll see. By the end of the month, you’ll be begging for more of me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but crack a small smile despite yourself.

Dinner turned into a strange, semi-comfortable routine faster than you expected. Gojo, despite being an objectively messy person, was surprisingly good company when he wasn’t actively trying to annoy. The conversation shifted effortlessly between lighthearted topics—like his absurd stories from college—to things you didn’t expect to discuss with someone you’d just moved in with.

“So, why’d you move out of your old place?” he asked suddenly, leaning back on the couch with his half-empty ramen container resting on his stomach.

You hesitated, chopsticks frozen in mid-air. “It’s not like I had much of a choice,” you admitted, poking at your noodles. “My landlord is incompetent, and my kitchen turned into a swimming pool. Not exactly livable conditions.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “No kidding. And he didn’t offer to put you up somewhere? Like, isn’t that his job?”

You snorted. “You’d think, right? But no. He told me to ‘figure it out’ and just…disappeared.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “asshole.” Then, after a moment, he said, “Well, his loss. Now you’re here, and let’s be honest—you’ve upgraded.”

You gave him a pointed look. “This is what you call an upgrade?”

“Obviously.” He gestured vaguely at the cluttered living room. “I mean, come on—free entertainment, great company, world-class ramen delivery and if you want— someone to keep your bed warm.“ he smiled at you,“What more could you ask for?”

“Clean floors,” you deadpanned.

“Touché.”

He grinned, unfazed, and reached for the TV remote. “Alright, you’ve earned your place on the couch. Let me properly welcome you to Gojo’s world.”

“What are you doing?” you asked warily as he scrolled through a streaming service, the remote clicking in rapid succession.

“Movie night,” he said matter-of-factly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s tradition. New roommates get to pick the first movie. Consider it a rite of passage.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a dramatic gasp. “Wait—don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s never seen Star Wars. Or, God forbid, Lord of the Rings.”

“Relax,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’ve seen them. And I’m not watching them with you.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, mock pouting. “Your call, then. But choose wisely. This moment sets the tone for our entire roommate relationship.”

You sighed, leaning forward to grab the remote. “No pressure or anything.”

Eventually, you settled on a movie—a rom-com you’d seen a hundred times but couldn’t resist—and to your surprise, Gojo didn’t complain. He sprawled out on the couch like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did), one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other digging into a bag of chips he’d somehow produced out of nowhere.

“This is cute,” he said about halfway through, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. “Do they fall in love in the end? Kiss in the rain? Ride off into the sunset?”

You shot him a glare. “If you’re going to talk through the whole thing, I’m turning it off.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No more commentary. Scout’s honor.”

But, of course, he didn’t stay quiet for long.

By the time the credits rolled, he’d managed to make at least three sarcastic remarks about the leading man’s haircut, two unsolicited critiques of the soundtrack, and one entirely unnecessary comment about how he would’ve handled the grand romantic gesture at the end.

“For the record,” he said as he turned off the TV, “I could totally pull off that rain scene. Probably better, actually.”

“You? Running through the rain for someone?” You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t buy it.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m a very romantic guy. People line up for the Gojo Experience™.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you said, grabbing the empty ramen containers to take them to the kitchen. “But romance and whatever it is you do are two very different things.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he called after you, his voice light and teasing.

In the kitchen, you rinsed out the containers and stacked them neatly on the counter, trying not to think too hard about how easy it had been to banter with him. It was strange—living with someone like Gojo, who seemed to thrive on chaos and charm. You’d expected to be annoyed, and you were. But there was something oddly comforting about how effortlessly he filled the space.

When you returned to the living room, he was still lounging on the couch, flipping through his phone. He glanced up as you walked in, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Not bad for a first night, huh?” he said.

You shrugged, suppressing a small smile. “I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, sitting up and tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “I’ll grow on you.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” you shot back, heading toward the hallway.

His laughter followed you all the way to your room.

As you shut the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel like, for all the chaos and noise, this arrangement might not be as terrible as you’d thought. Maybe.

But oh. How wrong you were.

The morning started off deceptively quiet. When you emerged from your room, the sunlight streaming through the blinds made the living room look almost…peaceful. The kitchen was spotless, the couch was miraculously free of clothes and clutter, and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

For a brief moment, you thought Gojo might’ve actually cleaned up his act overnight.

Then you saw him.

He was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee like a walking ad for morning perfection. His silver-white hair was damp, his loose hoodie hung just right, and his sweatpants rode low enough to remind you he probably didn’t own a single pair of fitted jeans. He looked like someone who just woke up that hot—not a single ounce of effort needed.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, flashing you a grin that was as disarming as it was infuriating.

You ignored the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Do you ever not sound smug?”

“Nope. It’s part of my charm.” He smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Coffee?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “You made coffee?”

“Of course. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t caffeinate my lovely new roommate?”

“The kind of host who leaves his socks on the coffee table,” you muttered under your breath.

He pretended not to hear that, holding out a mug. “Come on. One sip, and you’ll see I’m full of surprises.”

Reluctantly, you accepted the mug and took a cautious sip. To your utter annoyance, it was good. Like, really good.

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly, reading your expression.

You gave him a pointed look. “Don’t get used to this dynamic. I’m not falling for your weird, ‘charming’ roommate routine.”

“Who said anything about charm?” He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m just being myself, baby. If that’s irresistible, it’s not my fault.”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “Did you just call me baby?”

“Hmm?” He feigned confusion, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry. Roomie. Same thing, right?”

“No, it’s really not,” you said flatly, setting your mug down.

„By the way, just a heads-up—I have someone coming over later.”

You frowned. “Someone?”

“Yeah, you know. A friend.” He smirked, the word friend dripping with suggestion.

You set your mug down on the counter. “You couldn’t even wait a day?”

“Hey, don’t judge me,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got needs. And besides, You knew from the start—this is who I am.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “I moved in less than twenty-four hours ago, and you’re already—”

“Relax, it’ll be fine,” he interrupted, brushing past you to grab a bag of chips from the cabinet. “You won’t even know we’re here.”

By the time his “friend” arrived that afternoon, you were safely holed up in your room, pretending to be engrossed in a book. You had already resigned yourself to enduring Gojo’s antics, but as the knock sounded at the door and his voice rang out in greeting, you felt your stomach twist.

Her laughter echoed through the thin walls—a bright, bubbly sound that grated against your already frayed nerves. You couldn’t make out their words, just the ebb and flow of conversation, the occasional rise and fall of her giggles mixing with Gojo’s smooth, low voice.

They moved to the living room, and the indistinct murmur of their voices grew louder. It was maddening—like trying to tune out a conversation happening right outside your door. You couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the rhythm of their tones was unmistakable. The lighthearted teasing, the easy banter—it all set your teeth on edge.

You clenched your book tighter, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but your eyes kept darting to the wall as if you could somehow will the noise to stop. It wasn’t your business, you reminded yourself. You didn’t care what Gojo did with his spare time, or who he brought over. It didn’t matter.

But when their voices softened, becoming more intimate, you felt your chest tighten with dread. The murmurs grew harder to distinguish, and soon, all you could hear was the faint rustle of movement and the occasional low chuckle from Gojo.

And then the real noise began.

At first, it was subtle—the creak of the couch, a muffled laugh that was cut short, followed by a sharper sound, like something hitting the floor. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach.

When the rhythmic creaking started, punctuated by the occasional muted groan, your heart sank.

No. No, no, no.

You pressed your hands over your ears, as if that would somehow make it stop. But the thin walls of the apartment offered no escape. Every sound seemed amplified—the shifting of weight, the faint hum of voices, the occasional laugh that broke the tension.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, tossing your book onto the bed and pacing the room.

For a moment, you debated knocking on the wall or even storming out there to put an end to it. But the thought of interrupting whatever was happening made your skin crawl. Instead, you grabbed your headphones, shoved them over your ears, and cranked up your music.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how loud you made the playlist, the creaking and muffled sounds seemed to filter through, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

When the noise finally stopped, you yanked your headphones off and slumped back onto your bed, letting out a heavy sigh. The room felt unnaturally quiet now, as if the apartment itself was holding its breath.

The front door opened, followed by the woman’s voice, light and cheerful.

“Thanks for today,” she said.

“Anytime,” Gojo replied, his voice dripping with charm. “Drive safe, gorgeous.”

You cringed at the sound of the door clicking shut and the silence that followed. A beat later, you heard Gojo’s footsteps padding toward the kitchen.

Summoning every ounce of patience, you stepped out of your room, determined to at least get a glass of water. You found him leaning lazily against the counter, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Well, look who’s finally out of hiding,” he said, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

You ignored him, walking to the sink and filling a glass with water.

“Rough day?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself.

You slammed the glass down on the counter and whirled around. “Seriously, Gojo? Can you not keep it down? I could hear everything.”

His grin only widened. “Everything, huh? Guess I should’ve warned you about the acoustics in here.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t be mad. If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it quieter next time.”

“Next time?” you snapped.

“What can I say?” He shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m a people person.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Hey, for what it’s worth,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “you’re more fun to talk to than she was.”

You froze, your face heating. “Don’t even try it.”

“Try what?” he asked, his tone playful. “I’m just saying, if you ever want to hang out, you don’t have to hide in your room.”

You glared at him over your shoulder. “In your dreams, Gojo.”

He chuckled, watching you retreat to your room. “Every night, sweetheart.”

You slammed the door behind you, but not before you heard his soft, self-satisfied laugh echo through the apartment.

A week passed, and life in the apartment settled into a grudging rhythm. You’d managed to avoid another direct confrontation with Gojo, though the memories of that first encounter still made your skin crawl. You convinced yourself you could manage this arrangement if you just kept your distance and stayed in your lane. To his credit—or maybe just your luck—he hadn’t brought anyone else over since that mortifying incident.

The apartment remained mostly quiet, aside from his occasional antics: music playing at odd hours, the clatter of snacks in the kitchen when you were trying to focus, and Gojo humming to himself as he wandered around like he owned the place.

But living with Gojo wasn’t just about tolerating the noise. It was about tolerating him. His overwhelming presence. His insufferable teasing. The way he seemed to enjoy pushing you just far enough to elicit a reaction, like a child poking at a caged animal for fun.

Case in point: the morning you stepped out of your room to grab breakfast, still half-asleep, only to find him lounging on the couch, shirtless, with a bag of chips balanced precariously on his chest.

“You know,” he said without looking up from his phone, “it’s rude to stare.”

You blinked, your brain taking a moment to catch up. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, flashing you a lazy grin as he finally looked at you. “I get it. I’m irresistible.”

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to smack the smugness off his face. “Or you’re just in my way,” you shot back, walking past him to the kitchen.

He craned his neck, following you with his eyes as you moved. “Feisty this morning. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Maybe because I’ve been trying to avoid you,” you muttered, rifling through the cabinets for your coffee mug.

“Aw, you wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically, which sent a few chips tumbling to the floor. “I’ve been nothing but welcoming to you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Welcoming?” You scoffed, finally finding your mug and filling it. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He grinned. “Of course. Didn’t you feel welcome when I made breakfast last week? Oh wait, never mind—you hid in your room.”

You ignored him, stirring sugar into your coffee and silently counting to ten. He thrived on attention, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Hey,” he called again, his tone turning almost conversational, like he wasn’t intent on annoying you. “Do you ever, like, not wear sweats?”

You glanced down at your oversized hoodie and joggers, then shot him a pointed glare. “Do you ever, like, mind your own business?”

“Ouch,” he said with a mock wince. “Just saying, you’ve got potential. Might even clean up nice if you tried. You‘ve got an big ass.“

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Good thing your opinion means nothing to me.”

His laughter filled the space as you grabbed your coffee and headed toward your room, your patience wearing thin.

“Oh, come on,” he called after you, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. “You’re not even going to hang out? What kind of roommate are you?”

“The kind who values her sanity,” you shot back without missing a beat.

His laughter followed you as you reached your door, hand on the knob, ready to escape his relentless teasing. But as you glanced at the clock on the wall, a realization hit you. Your eyes widened slightly.

You turned on your heel abruptly, nearly colliding with Gojo, who had apparently taken the opportunity to stand and stretch—still shirtless, of course. His smug grin faltered for a second as you stopped dead in your tracks.

“I’ll be late today,” you said quickly, sidestepping him to set your coffee down on the counter.

Gojo tilted his head, his grin returning with full force as curiosity flickered across his face. “Late? You? Didn’t think you had a social calendar.”

You rolled your eyes, opening the fridge and pretending to look for something. “People can have plans, Gojo. Even me.”

“Plans?” He leaned against the counter, his tone dripping with mock surprise. “Wait a second. Are you… going somewhere exciting?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you replied, focusing intently on the fridge shelves as if the milk carton was suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

His eyes narrowed slightly, amusement dancing in them. “You’re being cagey. That means it’s something good.”

You grabbed the milk with more force than necessary and shut the fridge door with a pointed look. “Or maybe I just don’t want to deal with your incessant need to pry into my business.”

“Touché.” He chuckled, watching as you began pouring milk into your coffee. His voice softened slightly, the teasing edge giving way to something more casual. “But seriously, where are you going? Work? Errands? Hot date?”

Your hand faltered for the briefest second. It was the tiniest movement—so small you hoped he didn’t notice. But the sharp glint in his eyes told you he absolutely had.

“Just out,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “Don’t wait up.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, straightening from his lean. “Out, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of exaggerated skepticism. “You’re not denying it’s a date.”

“I’m not confirming it either,” you shot back, grabbing your coffee and brushing past him toward your room.

“But you didn’t deny it!” he called after you, his voice full of glee. “Come on, who’s the lucky guy? Is he tall? Handsome? Rich? More charming than me?”

“Literally anyone is more charming than you, Gojo,” you replied dryly, not even turning around.

His laughter followed you down the hall, loud and unbothered. “Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart! At least tell me if I should warn him about your sweats obsession!”

You slammed your door shut before he could say anything else, but his laughter still echoed faintly through the walls.

Inside, you set your coffee on your desk and let out a long sigh. Gojo was insufferable. But even as you tried to focus on getting ready, his teasing words stuck with you.

It wasn’t his business, you reminded yourself. He didn’t need to know about your date—or the nerves twisting in your stomach at the thought of it.

Still, as you changed out of your usual oversized hoodie and joggers, you couldn’t help but wonder how Gojo would react if he saw you now.

And for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, you hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

The minutes ticked by as you debated between two outfits: a casual but flattering dress or a sleek, semi-formal ensemble that screamed confidence. You settled on the dress, deciding it struck the perfect balance—nothing too over-the-top, but enough to make an impression.

You checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric nervously. Your hair was styled neatly, and you’d even put on a bit of makeup—not something you usually did unless the occasion called for it. This definitely qualified.

Gojo didn’t need to know the details of your plans. Still, his voice echoed in your head, taunting and teasing. Hot date, huh? You clenched your teeth and took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get to you.

Stepping out of your room, you found Gojo still sprawled on the couch, now munching on what appeared to be a chocolate bar. His phone was perched on his knee, and he scrolled through it lazily, not even glancing up when you walked past him.

For a second, you thought you might actually escape without another comment. But then his head snapped up, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you like a predator catching sight of prey.

“Whoa,” he said, sitting up straight and letting his phone drop onto the cushion. “What is this?”

You froze mid-step, your heart sinking. “What’s what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing broadly at you. “You. Looking like that.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear unfazed. “It’s called getting dressed. Some of us do it properly.”

He smirked, standing up and sauntering closer, his eyes raking over your outfit—not in a leering way, but with an exaggerated flourish that made you bristle. “Are we sure this isn’t a completely different person? Because you clean up way better than I expected, Roomie.”

“Gojo,” you warned, your voice clipped.

“Relax.” He grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying you look… nice. Stunning, even. Makes me feel all tingly. The kind of nice that makes me wonder who you’re trying to impress.”

You stepped past him, heading for the door. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is my business,” he said, following you like an oversized shadow. “If you’re going on a date, I have a responsibility as your roommate to make sure this guy’s good enough for you. Do I need to give him the talk?”

You snorted, pulling on your shoes. “The talk? What are you, my dad?”

“Worse,” he said smugly, leaning casually against the wall near the door. “I’m your roommate. I see all the little things he doesn’t. Like the fact that you leave your underwear all over your room—”

You glared at him, your cheeks flushing,“Wh— were you in my room, you pervert?!“

He smirked, but you quickly turned around and grabbed your bag, not letting him ruin your mood. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his grin turning sly.

“Wait—,” he started, his tone light but laced with something almost mischievous, “if you are going on a date, you know the rules, right?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “There are no rules because it’s none of your business.”

“Wrong,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, his grin widening. “Rule number one: if the guy so much as breathes wrong, I’m allowed to deck him.”

“Gojo—”

“Rule number two,” he continued, holding up two fingers as if this were a serious negotiation, “if he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Fix it? What, with chips and bad jokes?”

His grin turned downright devilish, and he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not exactly what I meant, sweetheart. But if you know what I mean… well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Your face burned instantly, and you glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. “You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, I’m just offering my services,” he said, backing up with a mock-innocent shrug. “I’m a giver like that.”

You threw your bag over your shoulder and turned toward the door. “Thanks, but I’ll take my chances with the real world.”

His laughter followed you, low and teasing, as you pulled the door open.

“Don’t come crying to me when the real world disappoints you!” he called after you. “But seriously—don’t let him screw this up. He’s lucky to have your attention, even if it’s temporary.”

For a moment, you faltered, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity buried in his words. You glanced back at him, but the cocky grin was already back in place.

“Goodnight, Gojo,” you said, stepping out and shutting the door behind you.

As you walked away, his last comment replayed in your mind, a mix of genuine care and infuriating arrogance. You hated how easily he got under your skin. And worse, you hated that part of you couldn’t quite stop thinking about it.

The date had started out decently enough. He’d been polite when he picked the restaurant, complimented your outfit, and pulled your chair out for you when you arrived. For a brief moment, you thought this might actually turn out okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get through the evening without regretting every decision that led you there.

But it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show.

He started checking his phone a few minutes into the conversation. At first, it was subtle—a quick glance here, a soft buzz there. You told yourself it was probably work, something urgent that couldn’t wait. But as the evening progressed, it became increasingly obvious that it wasn’t. His chuckles at the screen, the way he tilted it away from your line of sight—it all screamed disinterest.

Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t realize how much it bothered you.

But then came the comments.

“You don’t seem like the type to like action movies,” he said, after you mentioned your favorite film. His tone wasn’t curious or surprised—it was dismissive, like he already had you pegged as someone who wouldn’t understand explosions and car chases.

“Wow,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “What type do I seem like?”

He shrugged, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Rom-coms? Something light and fluffy.”

You bit back the urge to roll your eyes. “Right. Because girls only like light and fluffy things.”

He laughed, completely missing the edge in your voice. “Hey, I didn’t say that. But, you know, it’s not a bad thing. It’s cute.”

By the time dessert arrived, you’d had enough. His phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t bother hiding your irritation.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked, your tone sharper than intended.

He glanced up, finally noticing your expression, and smiled sheepishly. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just some friends in a group chat. You know how it is.”

“Right,” you said flatly, setting your fork down. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your important group chat.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely confused, like he couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. But then his confidence kicked in, and he leaned forward with a smug grin.

“Come on,” he said, his tone dripping with self-assurance. “You have to admit, I’m a pretty great catch. You’re lucky I’m even single.”

You blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of his words. “Lucky?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, how often do you meet someone like me? Smart, successful, good-looking—”

You stood up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Thanks for dinner,” you said, grabbing your bag. “But I think we’re done here.”

“What?” He gaped at you, his grin finally faltering. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely,” you said, throwing some cash onto the table for your share of the bill. “Good luck with… whatever this is.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel and walked out, leaving him sitting there, stunned and silent.

By the time you got back to the apartment, your irritation had morphed into something else—a mix of regret, exhaustion, and the dull buzz of the wine you’d downed at dinner. You’d stopped at a bar on the way home, hoping to wash the memory of the date away, but all it had done was make your head spin.

You fumbled with your keys at the door, muttering under your breath about arrogant men and wasted evenings. When you finally managed to unlock it, you stumbled inside, kicking off your heels with a groan.

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV illuminating Gojo, who was sprawled on the couch in his usual carefree manner. A bowl of popcorn sat in his lap, and he turned his head at the sound of the door opening.

“Well, well,” he said, sitting up slightly and smirking at your disheveled state. “Look who’s back. And drunk, no less.”

You glared at him, wobbling slightly as you made your way to the kitchen. “Not now, Gojo.”

“Oh, I think now is exactly the time,” he said, following you with a smirk. “Let me guess—date didn’t go so well?”

You grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and drinking deeply before slamming it onto the counter. “You could say that.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that infuriating grin of his. “What happened? Did he turn out to be a secret serial killer? Or worse—a guy who calls movies ‘content’?”

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing another glass of water. “Worse. He thought he was God’s gift to women.”

Gojo let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Ouch. Tough break, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you muttered, brushing past him toward your room.

He caught your arm gently, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, his usual teasing tone replaced with something almost genuine. “I’m not pitying you. Just saying you deserve better.”

You looked up at him, your vision slightly blurry, whether from the alcohol or the sincerity in his words.

“I know I do,” you said quietly. “But it’s not like guys like that are exactly rare.”

He frowned, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. “Then maybe stop wasting your time on losers who don’t know what they’ve got.”

You snorted, pulling your arm free, as you entered your room. “Oh, right, because the perfect guy is just going to fall into my lap?”

Gojo grinned at your sarcastic remark, that infuriating spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. Before you could process what was happening, he moved quickly, closing the distance between you in a couple of long strides.

“Gojo, what the—”

Without warning, he gave you a gentle push, and your knees buckled, sending you backward onto your bed. You landed with a soft bounce, your protest cut short as he followed, dropping down beside you in one smooth motion.

But instead of stopping there, he shifted lower, placing his head directly in your lap. His face nestled against your thighs, his hair brushing against the soft fabric of your dress.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Gojo!”

He tilted his head to look up at you, his grin widening as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “What? You said you were waiting for the perfect guy to fall into your lap. Here I am.”

You stared at him, half in disbelief and half in a panic at the heat creeping up your neck. “Get off me!”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he made himself more comfortable, his arms casually draping across your waist like he belonged there. “Why? Your thighs are pretty nice. You’re comfortable, and I’m saving you from wasting time on all those losers out there.”

Your hands hovered uselessly in the air, unsure whether to shove him off or cover your face to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re insane,” you finally managed, trying to ignore the way his breath tickled your skin.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, almost teasing, as his head shifted slightly against your lap.

Before you could snap back, he turned further into your thighs, the movement deliberate, nuzzling deeper as though testing just how far he could push you. Your breath hitched, caught between outrage and something you didn’t want to name.

It wasn’t until you felt the warmth of his breath, hot and steady, against the thin barrier of your panties that you froze completely. The realization hit like a jolt—your dress had ridden up when he pushed you onto the bed, leaving the bare skin of your thighs pressed against his face.

“Gojo,” you said, your voice coming out sharper than intended.

He didn’t immediately move, his lips quirking in a way that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. There was an unmistakable smugness in the way he exhaled, a low hum vibrating against your skin.

“You smell nice,” he remarked lazily, his words sending a shockwave of mortification through you.

Heat flooded your face “You’re disgusting!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. You should be flattered.”

Before you could fire back, he leaned in again, catching you completely off guard. His tongue dragged a slow, deliberate line up the fabric of your panties, the warmth and pressure sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as your hand shot out, fingers tangling in his hair. You yanked, forcing him to pull back slightly. “Gojo—what are you doing?” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning hot enough to rival the sun.

His eyes locked onto yours, half-lidded and teasing, as his hands rested firmly on either side of your thighs. “Satoru,” he corrected, his voice low and smooth. “Call me Satoru.”

You couldn’t tell if it was his tone or the way he said it, but something about the moment sent your thoughts scattering. His gaze, piercing and unrelenting, didn’t waver as you tried to form a coherent response.

“Satoru,” you repeated, the name slipping out more out of shock than agreement.

He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating through him and straight into you. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” His grin softened, still playful but laced with something heavier, something you couldn’t quite place. The weight of his gaze was nearly unbearable.

“What are you doing—?” you asked again, your voice catching in your throat. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for any hint that he was joking, that this was just another one of his games.

Instead, his expression softened further, the teasing edge of his smirk shifting into something far more deliberate. “Remember what I said before you went out?”

You frowned, confused and thrown off balance, but before you could respond, he reached up. His hand closed over yours where it was still tangled in his hair, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pried your fingers free. You let him guide your hand down, watching in stunned silence as he brought it to his lips.

The kiss he pressed to your knuckles was warm, lingering, and shockingly intimate. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as his lips brushed against your skin.

“‘If he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it,’” he murmured, his tone lower now, almost a whisper, like the words were meant for you alone.

His eyes stayed on yours, and for once, they weren’t filled with amusement or mockery. There was something raw there, something that made your stomach twist painfully, though whether it was from unease or… something else, you couldn’t say.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your voice caught in your throat. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your head felt too foggy, too clouded with alcohol and the heat of his touch.

“So…” he said after a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand, tracing absent patterns into your skin. “What do you say? Will you let me fix your heartbreak?”

His smile returned, slow and deliberate, but it wasn’t as infuriating as before. This one was softer, almost tender, though it still carried that maddening confidence that was so inherently him.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air growing heavier with every passing second. You felt his free hand move, his palm sliding to rest against your thigh. His touch was steady, the warmth of it searing through your skin.

You knew you should say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was spinning, and it felt like all the blood in your body had rushed to your face. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to break whatever spell he was weaving.

And yet, before you even realized what you were doing, you nodded. It was subtle, hesitant, but unmistakable.

His smile widened, a glimmer of triumph flashing in his eyes. “Good answer,” he said softly, his hand squeezing your thigh just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallowed hard, your breathing uneven as he leaned in closer, his face still pressed near your lap, his thumb still tracing lazy circles into your skin. Your thoughts felt muddled, trapped somewhere between disbelief and the hazy warmth spreading through your body.

Somewhere deep down, a small part of you screamed to stop this, to regain control of the situation. But in that moment, with the alcohol clouding your judgment and his touch grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain, you didn’t move.

You barely had time to register what was happening before his hands found your shoulders, gently pushing your upper body back against the mattress. The soft give of the bed beneath you made it impossible to resist as he shifted your position, leaving you staring up at the ceiling.

His movements were deliberate, slow enough to let you protest if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You felt the brush of his hands against your thighs, warm and confident as he worked your dress higher, inch by inch, until it bunched at your waist. The cool air hitting your skin made you shiver, and you became acutely aware of just how exposed you were.

Your damp panties were now on full display, the fabric clinging to you in a way that made heat bloom across your face. A small voice in your head begged you to snap out of it, to push him away and demand he stop. But the alcohol’s haze dulled that voice into a faint whisper.

The you from a week ago would be screaming at you right now. She’d call you an idiot for letting this happen, for giving him this satisfaction. You knew Gojo—he’d never let you live this down. Tomorrow, he’d smirk and tease, and you’d be left trying to figure out why you hadn’t stopped him.

But none of that mattered right now. You were too drunk, too tired, too overwhelmed to care.

Just this once, you thought. You’d let him have this one, even if you knew it was a terrible idea.

His fingers slid over the damp fabric of your panties, his touch cold enough to make you shiver but firm enough to send a spark of something foreign racing through you. He pressed his palm against the growing wet patch, massaging gently, as if testing your reaction.

“So wet,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. His thumb brushed over the edge of the fabric, dangerously close to your bare skin.

Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his words hung in the air, taunting you with their boldness.

You should have stopped him. You knew you should have. But instead, your body betrayed you, your hips shifting just slightly into his touch. It was all the encouragement he needed.

a/n: get cockblocked loser ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo #geto suguru #gojo smut #gojou x reader #satoru x reader

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nachojaehyun · 10 months ago

Note

like a part 2 where the reader just keeps on acting nonchalant like nothing happened and wonwoo gets more and more riled up. cause “why am i the only one going insane here” type of feelings. and he just ends up taking here in a dressing room or something cause damn they need to fuck

she’ll ride the dick like a carnival

pairing. idol! wonwoo + new staff! fem reader!

summary. since that one fateful night at his apartment, jeon wonwoo realizes that he is fucked. but not really, since he can’t seem to get you in his bed.

warnings. [PLEASE READ] dom/sub dynamics, slight dom wonwoo, dirty talk, use of nicknames, THICK dick and lowkey desperate wonu, reader is VERY nonchalant, implied mirror sex, riding, wonu almost cries… AGAIN, sloppy kisses on the tits, subtle jizz play — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. desperate sex that turns steamy and passionate is my favorite genre holy shit 😭 first time answering an ask! hope you like it :)

find part 1 here

jeon wonwoo could only watch you from across the waiting room as you pranced around in a midi skirt, chatting happily with the staff.

he wanted to cuss you out.

shifting in his chair, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, angrily sniffing.

how could you act like this?

how were you so nonchalant? so unbothered about the fact that you had him seeing stars merely 72 hours ago?

it had been 3 days since you had sucked the soul out of his body. 3 days since he couldn’t stop rutting his cock into his fist to the thoughts of you. 3 days since he had become insane.

he tried to get your attention, he really did. the poor boy would keep trying to pry anything out of your mouth that gave him a hint about your feelings.

but you were unpredictable, just as he had thought.

your face was like a wall — completely emotionless. any thought that passed through your head could barely be understood and wonwoo wanted to smash his head into the concrete at that realization.

“jeez, what’s got you this tense?” mingyu sits down next to him, adjusting his costume as he stared at his best friend. “i’m just… worried about the performance, nothing else.”

mingyu knew that wonwoo was lying.

hell, even wonwoo knew he was lying.

but none of them seemed to question each other as they sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts.

“wonwoo-ssi?” your voice called out to him. the boy singled out you and your sound amid nearly 50 people in the room, surprisingly springing to his feet as he walked towards you.

“your outfit is ready, follow me.”

the man silently walked behind you, striding toward the secluded attached room in the corner.

he pulled the curtain and stepped inside, and he was immediately handed his clothes. the outfit was simple— a sleeveless shirt and some baggy white jeans.

“i’ll be outside,” you nodded, bidding him farewell as you pulled the curtain.

sighing, wonwoo turned to look at himself in the mirror. his hardened cock stared at him in the face— a haunting image of the effect you had on him.

how am i the only one who is this riled up? he wondered. i can’t be the only one… right?

he wasn’t.

you would be lying if you said your panties weren’t glued to your core since you walked in. the sight of him had your head spinning, wanting nothing more than to strip him down and pull his dick into your throat.

but of course, you were not some depraved whore.

you set boundaries after that night. he was your client, and you were his stylist. of course you weren’t supposed to suck him off!

the fitting next morning after the incident had made you lose your self control. you recall how you had to get yourself off in the bathroom, relishing in the thoughts of seeing wonwoo in a tight fitted suit.

but of course, you would never voice these thoughts out loud. being in the same room as him was punishment enough to remind you of your sins. you wondered if applying for a styling job for a different member would work—

“uh?” wonwoo’s deep voice cut off your lewd thoughts, making you shake your head to clear them out. “a little help?”

“you good?" you sighed. “i’m coming in,” sucking in a breath as you stepped inside the small box.

wonwoo was leaning against one of the mirrored walls, one leg up on a stool in the corner. “what’s wrong?” you searched for a solution in his face.

“i seem to be stuck in a seemingly hard situation.”

one look down to his hands, you immediately realized the problem.

wonwoo’s dick was hard, the bulge over his boxers made that evident. the problem? the sheer size of his chub was not allowing the zipper of his jeans to zip up.

the man had a small waist but also had weirdly broad hips. his pants always had to be altered so that they suited his body type.

however, this was a problem that no other stylist had ever had to deal with.

“what do i do?” wonwoo whined, pouting his lips as he pushed up his glasses.

“wonwoo-ssi,” you spoke. your voice remained surprisingly stable, despite the fact that you could feel your pussy pulsating.

“i think you need to solve this problem on your own,” you looked into his eyes, almost feeling bad at how he panted.

however, before you could turn around and leave, wonwoo pushed his glasses up his nose and caged you between his arms.

your back hit one of the mirrored walls, as a surprised gasp fumbled from your mouth.

“wonw—”

“for the love of god woman, do you not see what you do to me?”

the desperation in his voice made your knees buckle as you stared into his eyes, gaze alternating to his lips as he bit them.

wonwoo heaved as he inched closer towards your face. “give me one good reason why you shouldn’t take care of my problem. you’re the one that caused it after all.”

hearing him voice out his thoughts, you turned your head to the side, embarrassed by the effect his voice had on you. how was this even your fault—

but with a harsh grip, jeon wonwoo grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing to you look at him.

“can’t think of anything can you?” his head dipped down, tracing his teeth along your neck. the sensation made you hiss silently. “help me, please. what would carat think if i went out on stage looking like this?”

“sit,” is all you managed to say, voice enamoured with need.

you all but pushed wonwoo onto the iron stool in the corner, hauling yourself onto his lap as you crashed your lips into his.

fuck, your lips were way better than he had ever imagined. they were soft and pillowy as they engulfed his mouth, tongue grazing against his own as you ground down on his crotch.

wonwoo’s free hand pushed your head impossibly close as he licked into your mouth, wanting to memorize every crevice.

spit dribbles from your connected mouths, sloppy and wet kisses sounding obscenely loud in the secluded area. the man does not care that drool is now staining his tank top. he could never get enough of this.

his other hand gripped tightly onto your ass, groping and fondling the fat. after a second, he pulled away from you, glasses foggy and lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

“shit baby, i can’t take it anymore,” he whisper-screamed, tears coating his lashes. you wished you could burn this image into your head for the rest of your life.

you could only nod, ready to sink to your knees before wonwoo stopped you, tutting. “pull your panties to the side, doll,” he commanded, chest heaving.

the change in his tone had your thighs tingling. you pulled your midi skirt up, tucking the ends into the hem as you exposed yourself.

at the sight of your baby blue cotton panties, jeon wonwoo nearly growled.

the material was thoroughly soaked and ruined, a deep blue patch staining the cloth. as you pulled them to the side, he noticed how slicked up your heat was, a string of arousal connected your folds to the cotton.

you gripped onto his shoulders for support in your half-sitting position as he glided two fingers against your folds.

“so wet for me already, huh? don’t even need to work you up for my cock,” he smacked his lips. “filthy girl.”

wonwoo strained his ears to listen for any footsteps near the area as he sucked his dampened fingers into his mouth. your taste was making him dizzy, breath faltering as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head.

without wasting any more time, you pulled his cock out of its confines, sliding his boxers down just enough to free his length.

the sight of him always made you salivate. however, it was clear that he didn’t want that happening today.

steadily, you positioned yourself over him, hovering before you finally pushed his fat tip in.

the sensation had you moaning out loud— before he slapped his hand over your mouth. “shh! don’t be so loud baby, they will hear us,” he cooed.

you nodded frantically, slowly inching downwards as his dick began to fill you up. once he was bottomed out, you couldn’t help but sob into his palm.

“i know baby, i know. feels good yeah?” he smirked, shushing you with sweet words as he let you adjust to his size.

wonwoo’s thick dick was buried up to your hilt, and you felt so incredibly full. your poor walls clenched around his cock, nearly making him bust.

without a word, the man beneath you grabbed at your waist, moving you up and down on his length, slowly. with him pistoning in and out of you, you could feel your senses going into overdrive.

wonwoo tugged your top down with his teeth, suckling along the valley of your breasts to keep himself quiet. your pussy felt incredibly tight, creaming him for all he was worth.

his strong arms continued to guide you, until your legs automatically adjusted to the pace. your body began to move on its own accord— tits jiggling in wonwoo's mouth with each bounce.

"f-fuck!" you whimpered, beginning to lose your mind. for a moment, he looks up at you through his glasses, smiling widely from between your breasts.

the bastard's cheeky grin has you forgetting your own name as he lapped his tongue around your skin like he fucking owned it.

"already going dumb on my cock? shi— you ride so well baby."

your bounces show him just how stretched you were, making wonwoo's stomach clench as he split you apart. you tease him a little by slowing down, grinding down on him as he bites his lips and throws his head back.

as his hands grab onto your cheeks to spread them, he accidentally catches a glimpse of your back in the mirror opposite to you two.

god, you looked so fucking hot.

without knowing why, you felt him twitch inside. "not gonna— oh shit! — last very long now baby."

at the sound of his confession, you bring a hand down to rub at your clit. taking the hint, he begins to rut back into you, using all his strength to fuck into your heat.

"p—please wonwoo hah! cum inside, please please please,"

you're not sure why you beg, but you're too cock drunk to process anything but the fact that you want him filling you up, stuffing your cunt full with his release.

"you su— fuck fuck fuck—" wonwoo whispers, biting down on your right tit to subdue the moan that was about to leave his throat.

with that and a grunt, he cums inside your pussy, filling you up to the brim. his length twitches inside you, shooting out excess spurts. feeling himself soften, wonwoo pulls out of you. you whine at the sudden sensation of feeling so empty.

the boy stays mesmerized at the way your cum mixes together, escaping your spent hole in small globs.

as a pathetic attempt, he uses two fingers to plug the release back inside you, making you whimper again at the sudden intrusion. "sorry," he apologizes, before placing your panties back where they belonged.

with a fluid motion, jeon wonwoo tucks himself back into his calvin klein boxers and then zipping his pants up, meeting your dazed eyes with another cute smile. "see? it fits now."

you can’t help but smile back at him, panting to catch your breath.

your thighs hurt from the awkward position, but you were sure that you would never have it any other way.

so, that's how you end up walking around the rest of the working day— wonwoo's cum safely filled up inside you, as you and him exchanged comically wide-eyed looks every few minutes, a shade of pink grazing your cheeks.

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