#(not that it helps a lot when I can barely get out of bed in the morning bc everything’s jsut too hard)

[keikikait]

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: you're just one of his many conquests, so why does he need you?

warnings: ANGST, friends with benefits, mild yearning/pining, rafe cannot handle his emotions, ward mention, slight jealous!reader, not proofread

a note: idk if i ate. i'm sorry that it's a little short. :( also, my stalker!rafe fic needs SERIOUS work, so i decided to upload this instead. i am very unhappy with it.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Sometimes you think you aren’t meant to be loved. 

It’s almost comical, the way you just sit there and take it. The way you let him walk all over you, taking bites out of you just to toss you aside for later. He cut off slices of you when he needed, never taking the full thing. Always little samples, just to keep you hooked. He would chew you up and spit you out, and you would always come crawling back.

You watch as Rafe dresses himself, eyes landing on his ass as he pulls up his boxers. He always dresses so quickly, not even handing you a towel as he paces around your room, gathering his things. At first, you thought he just didn’t like your apartment. You were a Pogue, after all, even though you were lucky enough to move to a nicer area of The Cut. You spent a lot of time redecorating, trying to make it a little bit nicer. A little bit cleaner. Anything to get him to stay.

Your apartment was small. Cozy. Quaint. 

It reeks of you. And that’s why Rafe won’t stay.

Rafe turns around, catching your eye. He can’t help the small smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his jeans on. “Admiring the view?”

“For as long as I can.” You say.

Your response surprises him, and his eyes widen just slightly. He stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on.

“I wish you would stay.” You mumble, aching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t.

“I know you do,” Rafe sighs, tying his shoes on. “But I can’t, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do.” Your voice is soft.

“So why do you keep asking me to stay?” It comes out angrier than he intended. But maybe you needed that.

“I…” You swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

“My answers always no. Why do you keep askin’?” Rafe stands, grabbing his wallet and keys off of the bedside table. “Shit’s starting to piss me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, sitting up, holding the duvet to your chest. You feel like you’re always telling him that. 

“Quit being sorry. Just stop fucking asking it,” He turns to face you. “Jesus. It’s not that hard.”

You don’t know what to say. You nod, looking down.

Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can’t deny, he loves when you look like that. Sad. Vulnerable. It drives him wild. His gaze lands on your neck, bruised and marked by his teeth. Possession looks good on you, He often thinks. 

But that was it. He could only take so much of your submission. He couldn’t take you asking him to stay, too.

“I won’t ask again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.

His jaw tightens and he stares at you. He wants to take you and claim you. To show you were his, and only his. But he didn’t want to keep you. Why would he? “Good.” Rafe walks around the bed and stands in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing it up. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You nod, looking up at him, mascara still smeared on your under eyes. 

Rafe studies your face. God, you always looked so beautiful like this. Broken and upset. The sight had him wanting to take and claim you all over again. But the look of submission in your eyes makes him want to push you even more. “You look pretty like this.” He murmurs, pushing your neck to the side and looking at the hickeys on your neck. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” You say, although you don’t like it. You didn’t like this version of you, the pathetic girl who would do anything and everything for one iota of his attention; but it got him into your arms, so that’s really all that matters.

“I wonder why that is? Why you look so pretty when you’re crying?” His fingers lightly trace over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You were addicted to him, craving his attention more than you craved anything else. You’d take whatever he gave you. That was the only thing Rafe loved about you.

“Because my lips get all pouty, and my eyes get all red?” You guess, resisting the urge to lean into his palm.

Rafe almost laughs at your answer. It was cute. “Hmm,” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently brushing them. “Yeah, probably.” His eyes meet yours, staring at your face. You were so easy to break. So easy to control. You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no fight or protest. Just endless submission. It was addicting.

You’re getting restless. “Have any plans today?”

Rafe’s hand falls from your face, and his jaw tightens. You always did this. You always try to make small talk, try to create some type of emotional connection between you, even though you knew deep down that he didn't give a shit about you or about your day. “Yeah. I do.” He picks his jacket up from the bed. “Have to go visit my dad's lawyer. Then I’m meeting some friends.”

“That sounds fun,” You say, although meeting with Ward’s lawyer must have something to do with life insurance. “Uh, being with your friends later, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, shrugging his jacket on. He grabs his keys from the bedside table and glances at you. It’s hard, watching you try to connect to him. He knows that you want more than this. You want to be his girlfriend. You want the world to know you’re his. 

But that couldn’t happen. And you knew that.

“Are you, um…” You shift on the bed, the duvet falling just a little bit. “Are you gonna come back over tonight?”

Rafe glances at you, eyes falling to the duvet. God, he loved how you were always trying to keep him around. He loved watching you try and fail to keep his attention. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Do you want me to?” He already knows your answer.

“Only if you want to,” You say, trying to not come across as even clingier than you already are. “You know my door’s always open for you.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. You were always so predictable. So needy. So willing. He starts to wonder when he'll get sick of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He grunts, picking his phone up off of the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Might be with Sofia tonight.”

Your soft smile drops, just for a second, and you hope Rafe doesn’t notice.

Sofia.

Sofia?

Who the hell is Sofia?

You knew everyone he hung out with. Every girl. You had tabs on all of them, shamefully. You didn’t know who the hell Sofia was. Had you missed someone? How had she managed to slip through the cracks?

Under the covers, you dig your nails into your thigh. You had to act casual, as normal as you could be. You were always treading thin ice with him, and you couldn’t risk losing him over this. Your smile returns and you give him a nod. “Cool. Just text me.”

Rafe watches as your smile falters for a moment. He knows it. He knows that you’re jealous. There was no way that you weren't. It didn’t take much to make you jealous. He could make one passing comment about a girl, and you’d spend the rest of the day worrying, wondering who she was. That's why he brought up Sofia, and why he always mentions his other girls to you. Something about the idea of you laying in bed, terrified and anxious to lose him, really excited him.

He smirks as you quickly regain composure, knowing that he got to you. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He says, turning to leave.

“Drive safe.” You say.

He stops as he stands in the doorway. Something about you telling him to drive safe always made him… feel guilty. It was that damn softness you always had and used against him. He glances at you over his shoulder, swallowing whatever sentiment he was feeling. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ��──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You hate Sofia.

After a bit of sleuthing, logged into one of your many burner accounts, you finally find her. She’s a Pogue, like you, and for some reason you find that it stings more. She’s gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, the sweetest girl around, and you fucking hate her.

Rafe had a roster. A rotation, the same few girls on repeat until he got bored, where he would swap a few out for fresh meat. You don’t know how you managed to stay on the roster for this long, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe Rafe thought you had another guy out there, filling your cunt and your bed when he was gone, but you didn’t. You’re too busy being Rafe’s to fall for somebody new.

You used to not care about the other girls. The more and more he mentioned them, though, you got curious. You started looking them up on Instagram, stalking their profile through burners and analysing every post. Every story. None of the girls ever looked like you. None of the girls were like you at all. Why did he like them, and why did he like you?

You wonder if he treats the other girls as poorly, or if in some twisted way, you’re special. You could handle being the only girl that Rafe treated like shit if that meant you stood out to him in some way. You wonder if he fills their necks with hickies, too, if he grips their hips too hard and leaves bruises, if he spanks them until his handprints form welts on your ass cheeks.

You hoped to God you were special.

You tried to distract yourself, running errands and tidying your apartment, but you kept thinking about him. About his stupid baby blue eyes, and his stupid pretty face, and his stupid hands and the way they felt around your neck. You didn’t want to be in love with Rafe fucking Cameron, but you feared you were already in too deep, and soon you would drown, falling below the surface, hand outstretched, hoping just this once that he would pull you up.

You sit on your bed, in the dark and the silence, staring at your phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting for him to text you, to need you.

The hours pass. Midnight. One and two. Three. Before four o'clock rolls around, you still have nothing. You know that you should just give up and go to bed. He probably passed out at his friends’ place, too drunk and too tired to text you, but you keep telling yourself that he's just busy. That he's gonna wake up any moment now and shoot you a text. 

You're praying that something happens, that something keeps you up and keeps you waiting for those messages that you know he most likely won't send. You want him to finally fucking want you in the way that you want him. You didn’t like feeling this way, it wasn’t fun to constantly torture yourself, but is it not fun to feel many other ways? If it wasn’t Rafe, it would just be someone else. Another man, someone else’s son, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you just aren’t meant to be loved.

Why don’t you do it for him? Why aren’t you enough to get him to stay?

You tap the screen, and it lights up. No new notifications.

“Shit.” You mumble, your hand retreating to your side.

You sigh and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Of course, he isn’t going to text you. Why would he? Why would he do that to you, when he never had before? This is exactly what you expected. This is exactly what he loves. Making you doubt, getting you jealous. It gets him off. It’s a game for him. You were his prey, and he was your predator. 

As you lay, staring at your ceiling, you hear three, quick knocks on your door.

At first, you think you’ve imagined them. You sit up, your feet sliding into your slippers as you pad into the living room. You stand there in silence, in the dark, only listening to your own breathing. You’re about to turn around when there’s another knock, this time loud and pounding against your door.

You cross the rest of the room, undoing the locks and opening the door.

Standing on your doorstep, of course, was Rafe, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. He seems… tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying out late. He glances at you from behind those tired eyes, his gaze falling over your body. He’s taking note of the oversized t shirt you’re wearing, and how your hair is dishevelled and messier than it was before. He could tell you had been lying down. “Can I come in?”

Something's off, you can tell. He’s acting different, even though it’s just subtly. You watch him as he chews on his lip, an anxious habit he didn’t think you noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Rafe’s expression falters for a split second, before he quickly regains his composure. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that you asked him that. He looks over you. “Nothing,” He responds, his voice harsh and biting. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”

You don’t believe him. He normally carries himself with intense confidence and gravitas, so much so it constantly inks into your lungs and chokes you, but this was different. He felt different. “Right.”

He swallows hard, shifting on his feet. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him. Concerned, like you cared. He glances away from you, sighing. “Can I come in?” He repeats his question, eyes flicking between you and your living room.

You nod, stepping aside and holding the door opening, flicking a light switch. One of your lamps turns on, casting a warm, soft glow over your living room.

Rafe strides into your apartment, immediately heading for your couch. Everything in your place was so damn cozy; the warm light, the soft couch, your scent lingering on every single inch of every single surface. He collapses back onto the couch, arms spread out and legs splayed. He runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard.

You sit next to him, and for a while, you two sit in a comfortable silence. You look over at him, pushing some hair behind your ears. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Rafe closes his eyes, sighing as you speak. He didn’t want to tell you about Ward. Not when you were like this, so gentle and caring. He was exhausted, to say the least. He was dealing with so much, all at once, and he didn't know what to do. Finally, he looks at you. In this lighting, with your hair messy and your eyes concerned, you looked even more like the sweet girl he always wished you were. Sweet and caring and loving. “Today was my dad's funeral.”

Your shoulders droop, and your eyes soften. You had no idea. He had only mentioned visiting his father’s lawyer to you yesterday morning. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

Rafe almost groans. He loved you when you were soft, when you were sweet. He loved it more than he cared to admit, but right now he hated it. He hated it when you were this caring. It made him doubt everything. He glances at you, a lump in his throat. He hated when you looked at him that way. Because he knew that no matter what he did, you would always have that warmth in your eyes when you looked at him. You would always forgive him, no matter what he did.

Part of him wishes his dad could’ve met you.

You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep. Rafe stares down at your hand, so small in comparison to his shoulder. Something about it makes his chest tighten. It seems intimate, and he feels… safe. Safe with you. Which is a feeling he hasn't felt in God knows how long. 

His hand slowly lifts, his rough fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brings your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently, back and forth.

God, the feeling of you touching him, comforting him, was too much. Your touch was too gentle and warm, and he hated that he wanted it. He hated the way his chest ached at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He had so many reasons he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be letting you touch him like this, and yet there was something inside of him, a small voice in the back of his mind, constantly begging him to please let you take care of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course.” You say softly. 

Rafe glances at you, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. God, he hated this. Your touch on his face, the tenderness in your voice, the look in your eyes. It was driving him absolutely insane. His eyes close, as if he was debating if he actually wanted to ask you this. “Am I poison? Am I poison in the water?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

He opens his eyes again, hand still holding yours to his cheek. He holds your gaze, eyes softening. He hated how vulnerable he was, and yet there was a small piece of him, buried deep inside, that needed it. He could tell you anything right now, and you wouldn't judge him. You would just listen. Care. “Do I… poison everything I touch? Am I the poison that kills everything?”

“No, of course not,” You move closer to him on the couch. “Why would you ask that?”

God, he could smell you, your perfume a subtle, sweet scent that was driving him crazy. He closes his eyes as you move closer, and his jaw tightens. This was insane; he wasn't weak, he wasn't vulnerable, he did not need you. But then again, the hand on yours on his face had yet to move. “Because,” his voice drops to a whisper. “I know that I'm a sick, twisted bastard. I know that I make others sick. I hurt everyone I care about.”

“Rafe, I will admit you aren’t exactly the nicest guy,” You swallow roughly, unsure of what to even say. “But you still have people that care about you. Your friends, your sisters. They know the real Rafe, the guy underneath all the aggression.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath. God, he hated this. He hated being vulnerable. He hated opening up to you, and seeing that look of concern in your eyes. He wants to run, to close you out, leave and forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to treating you like one of his conquests, instead of feeling like he wanted you to hold him. But for some reason, his mouth wasn't listening to his brain. “But what about you?”

“Of course, I care about you,” You say. “I thought that would at least be obvious.”

He had a thousand different replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead his mouth just opened and closed, words dying when they left his lips. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to get up and leave, but there was a deeper part of him, a small piece of himself that he kept buried inside, deep in the back of his mind, that kept whispering, telling him to sit. It was the part that kept his hand on your wrist. He swallows hard, looking away. “I wish my dad was still here.”

“I know,” You say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his eyes begin to sting, something that only added to his frustration. Frustration at himself, for being pathetic enough to cry. Frustration at you, for making him weak enough to cry. Frustration at Ward, for leaving him and his sisters behind. He suddenly hated everything. He hated you. He hated himself. He hated Ward for leaving him with feelings, making him weak. “I don't even know why I came here,” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I just... I wish I could've been good enough for him. I tried to be good.”

“You don’t know how Ward truly felt about you, Rafe.” You say, stroking his cheekbone again.

He hated the way you were comforting him, hated the way you were so gentle with him. He was always on the defensive, on the attack, so when someone was soft with him... Well, the way his chest ached was proof that it was something he wasn't used to. He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “But I do. His actions spoke louder than his damn words ever did,” He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's so stupid, you know, I... I used to pray I’d be like him, do everything that he did. And sometimes I still do.”

“That’s not stupid.” You say.

He lets his hand fall from your wrist, shaking his head. He hated talking about this, he hated admitting how much Ward’s death has messed him up. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up to anybody. The words leaving his lips, however, were not his own. “I hate that I don’t know if he was proud of me... I hate that I’ll never know if I did right by him.”

You remove your hand when he goes to cover his face. You watch him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when you notice his shoulders shake. 

Is he crying?

Your eyes widen when you hear a sob rip through him, shoulders shaking up and down. “Hey, hey, Rafe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

He hated crying, absolutely hated it, but there he was, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. “I’m not even- I…” His voice breaks, chest rattling. He lets out a long, shaky breath, shaking his head as he wipes away the tears from his cheeks. He couldn’t even look at you. He hated feeling so weak. Hated that you were seeing this side of him.

“It’s okay,” You put your arm around him, trying to hug him. “It’s okay--”

Rafe suddenly stands, pushing you back. “No. Don’t… don’t fucking pretend like you care.” He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed that he let Ward affect him this much. He was supposed to be strong. Powerful. Not weak.

“I’m not pretending.” You say, standing up.

His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a sharp glare. God, he was tired of you, of your sweet words, of your gentle smiles. It was messing with his head, playing with his feelings. “Yeah, right.” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t care, don’t bullshit me.”

“Of course I care about you, Rafe,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “I… I lov--”

“No!” He suddenly snaps at you. He didn't want to hear that. He couldn't. “Don’t… don’t you dare,” You stare at him, confusion on your pretty little face, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. Keep that shit to yourself.”

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t want to upset him even more. You just nod, taking a step back.

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He hated the sight of that look on your face. The confusion, the worry, the disappointment. He didn’t understand. Why did you care? He didn’t deserve it, not one bit. What the hell did you think you’d get out of loving someone like him? That he’d love you back? That he’d change for you?

The silence is deafening. You want to say something, you just don’t know what. You take a shaky breath. “I’m here for you, Rafe. You know that. In any way you need me.”

“Why?” He asks suddenly, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you still here for me? Why do you care about me so goddamn much? Why can’t you just give up on me, like everyone else has?”

“Do I look like everyone else?” You ask.

Oh, but that was the problem. You were different. You were the only person in that damn town who was as sweet as you were patient. Who cared so god-damn much about someone so undeserving of that love. “Don’t you think I know that?” He asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you think it pisses me off that you are the way you are?”

“I just want you to be happy, Rafe, and if I can make you happy, I want to.” You say.

Why did you have to be so goddamn sweet? It was driving him mad, the way you stood there, so willing and eager to do whatever it took to help him. He let out a long, shaky breath, staring down at you. “It was different when you were just some girl I was hooking up with.” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m still that girl,” You insist. “Nothing has to change. We can go back to normal. Forget this ever happened.”

His eyes narrow as you speak. He hated that you said that, hated how willing you were to forget the fact that he cried in front of you, and yet he hated himself for the fact that he almost wanted to agree. “Really?” He asks, his voice sharp. “You’d just… forget this? Go back to letting me use you, like nothing happened?”

“If that’s what you want.” You say.

He hated the idea of that. The idea of going back to using you. Of treating you like trash when he knew that you cared so damn much. 

Part of him liked hurting you, like watching you fall apart at his hands. But it was the other side of him that hated how good it felt at first, hated the pit of shame in his chest that grew each time you begged him to stay, or cried while he left, or looked at him like he meant the world to you.

Part of him knew you deserved better.

Rafe sighs, looking away. “Fine. We forget about this.”

“Okay.” You say, nodding.

The fact that you didn't say anything, that you didn't fight back, made his chest ache. God, he hated this. He wanted to yell at you. Wanted to push you down, pin you to the couch, and make you cry out his name. He wanted you to ask him to stay, fight him to prove to him that you cared. He hated how your willingness to forget it all made him want to wrap his arms around you. He couldn't stay. He would do something risky, something that he would regret in the morning. He sniffles, wiping his eyes again. “I'm gonna go.”

You swallow thickly. “If you’re sure. My door is always open.”

“Yeah,” He replies, his voice hoarse. He hated that your gentleness, your sweetness, still managed to get to him. He steps closer to you. He wanted to touch you again. To feel your warm, soft skin against his palm. But he knew better. He knew that if he touched you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Thanks for being there.” He mumbles, his voice cracking.

“Of course.” You smile softly.

He hates how your smile makes his chest ache, hates the tug it gives his heart. He hated how he cared about you, hated how he was so weak that he allowed himself to open up to you. And God, he hated how he was thinking about kissing your pretty, pouty lips. “I'll be back tomorrow night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Rafe nods, licking his lips. He rocks back and forth on his feet before reaching out and cupping the back of your head, pressing his lips to your forehead. Enough to keep you hooked. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your entire body is buzzing. “Drive safe.”

You’re still standing in the same spot when he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

And you will wait for the next time he wants you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

blagh

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[caitified]

TIME

CAITLIN CLARK X FAMILY READER

comments; i am working on paige’s family but i cant get over caitlin’s 🥹 so pls keep family requests coming!

warnings:none.

caitlin had been buzzing about the time photoshoot for weeks. athlete of the year. it was surreal, even for her—someone who didn’t often let herself sit in her accomplishments for too long. she had earned it, of course, with her record-breaking performances and her name becoming synonymous with basketball itself. still, she looked at you the night she got the call, her hazel eyes wide with disbelief, and said, “can you believe this?”

you could. you always could. you’d never doubted her for a second, not in college, not in her rookie season, not ever. but seeing her like this, standing on the edge of something even bigger than she already was—it made you so proud you could barely breathe.

the day of the shoot, you woke up early, the three of you tangled together in bed. bella, your two-year-old, had crawled in sometime during the night and sprawled across caitlin’s chest, her little fingers fisted in caitlin’s t-shirt. caitlin didn’t move much when bella did that; she never wanted to risk waking her up. instead, she just held her close, her hand splayed protectively across her tiny back.

after a while you all get up and head to the kitchen. caitlins nerves manifesting in the way she paced around the house with her coffee, double-checking her outfit and asking you if her hair looked okay for the hundredth time. you’d smiled from your spot at the kitchen counter, bella perched on your hip, her dark curls still messy from sleep.

“mommy looks so pretty, doesn’t she, bella?” you said, smoothing a hand over your two-year-old’s hair.

bella nodded, her thumb in her mouth, but her little brows furrowed. “mommy’s always pwetty,” she mumbled, pressing her face into your shoulder.

caitlin leaned down and kissed her cheek. “you’re pretty, too, bella bear,” she said, her voice warm. “you and mommy are the prettiest girls in the whole world.”

bella giggled, but she clung tighter to you, like she knew the day wasn’t going to be just about her. you’d noticed this about her lately—the way she wanted more of your attention, especially when caitlin’s schedule got hectic. she was used to having her mom at her beck and call, and anything less than that just didn’t sit right with her.

…..

the studio was bustling when you arrived, filled with photographers, assistants, and stylists all working to prepare for the shoot. bella clung to your leg as you walked in, her eyes wide as she took in all the unfamiliar faces and bright lights.

“wow,” she whispered, her little hand gripping yours tightly.

“it’s a lot, huh?” you said gently, crouching down to her level. “but mommy’s going to do such a great job, and we’ll stay right here with her the whole time, okay?”

bella nodded, but you could see the hesitation in her eyes as she glanced over at caitlin, who was already being whisked away by a stylist.

“mama,” bella said softly, tugging on your hand. “why are they taking mommy?”

“they’re just helping her get ready for her pictures, sweetheart,” you explained, smoothing a hand over her curls. “she’ll be right back.”

at first, bella was okay. she sat on your lap, nibbling on a snack while you both watched caitlin pose for the cameras. caitlin looked incredible—her sharp features softened by the warm lighting, her hazel eyes bright and focused as she followed the photographer’s directions.

but as the shoot went on, bella started to grow restless. her little hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, and she kept shifting in your lap, her brows furrowed in frustration.

“mama,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of activity in the room. “why is mommy not looking at me?”

your heart ached at her question, and you hugged her closer. “mommy’s just busy right now, baby. but she loves you so much, and she’s going to be done soon, okay?”

bella didn’t look convinced. her lower lip jutted out in a pout, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her little face set in a stubborn expression.

“i don’t like it,” she mumbled, her voice trembling slightly.

by the time the shoot was finally over, bella was at her breaking point. the moment caitlin walked over to you, still glowing from the excitement of the day, bella turned her face away, refusing to even look at her.

“bella bear,” caitlin said softly, crouching down in front of her. “what’s wrong, baby? why won’t you look at mommy?”

but bella just clung to you, burying her face in your shoulder and shaking her head. “no,” she said firmly.

“no?” caitlin repeated, her brows knitting together in concern. she looked up at you, confused. “what’s going on?”

“i think she’s upset about all the attention you were getting,” you said gently, rubbing soothing circles on bella’s back.

caitlin’s face fell, guilt flashing in her hazel eyes. “bella,” she said softly, reaching out to touch her daughter’s hand. “i’m sorry if i made you feel left out. i didn’t mean to.”

but bella just shook her head again, her little hands clutching your shirt tightly. “don’t want mommy,” she mumbled.

the words hit caitlin like a blow, and you could see the hurt on her face as she stood up, her shoulders slumping. “i’ll give her some space,” she said quietly, her voice heavy with emotion.

…

the rest of the evening was tense. bella stayed glued to your side, refusing to acknowledge caitlin no matter how hard she tried. at bedtime, she insisted that you be the one to tuck her in, and when caitlin came in to say goodnight, bella turned her back to her.

caitlin sighed, pressing a kiss to bella’s curls anyway. “goodnight, bella bear. i love you,” she said softly before leaving the room.

you found her in the living room a few minutes later, sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. “she hates me,” caitlin said when she looked up at you, her voice filled with frustration and sadness.

“she doesn’t hate you,” you said gently, sitting down beside her. “she’s just two. she doesn’t understand. give her time.”

it was almost an hour later when you heard the soft sound of little feet padding down the hallway. you looked up just as bella appeared in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bunny to her chest.

“mommy?” she said quietly, her voice trembling.

caitlin’s head shot up, and she was on her feet in an instant. “bella? what’s wrong, baby?”

bella’s lip wobbled as she ran to caitlin, reaching up with her tiny arms. “want you,” she said, her voice breaking.

caitlin scooped her up immediately, holding her close and pressing kisses to her curls. “oh, bella bear,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i’m so sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to make you sad.”

bella sniffled, her little hands clutching at caitlin’s shirt. “didn’t like those people,” she mumbled. “didn’t like mommy not looking at me.”

caitlin’s arms tightened around her, her hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i’m sorry, bella. i love you so much, and i promise i’ll always make time for you, okay? you’re my most important girl.”

bella nodded, her little body relaxing in caitlin’s arms. “love you, mommy,” she whispered.

“i love you too, bella bear,” caitlin said, her voice full of relief. she kissed her daughter’s forehead before looking over at you, her gaze soft and full of gratitude.

you smiled, your heart full as you watched them. “told you she’d come around,” you said teasingly, and caitlin laughed, the sound warm and full of love.

thanks for reading! i love them so much, more to come. requests open.

[milkoomi]

the basics of health & wellness. ᥫ᭡

a lot of us strive to be that health & wellness icon, but unfortunately we might stumble upon the struggle of trying to figure out where to start. we come across so many health & wellness accounts, creators, videos, books, etc. that might quickly become overwhelming and we just end up lost on where to begin. so let this little guide on the basics be your starting position!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — physical basics

a lot of the time when we think of “health and wellness”, we think about our physical body. we look for workout routines, we might subscribe to a gym membership, we might try and follow workout youtube videos— but, we always somehow end up losing track of keeping up with that kind of physical activity, especially when we jump right into it.

start small! when i say we’re going to talk about the basics, i mean the very bare minimum basics.

make sure you’re getting enough sleep!

that 7-8 hours of sleep is absolutely vital for your physical health. i made this guide on how to get better sleep that i recommend for those who might struggle with getting a good amount of rest at night!

your body needs to rest and recharge. it needs to go into that sleep mode so that the next day you feel energized!

getting a good amount of sleep each night is an overall basic health and wellness tip! sleep doesn’t have just physical benefits, but it also benefits your mental and emotional well-being too!

drink water daily!

2-3 liters is that sweet spot for water intake, so let that be a daily goal for yourself! even if it’s one glass of water every morning, make sure you’re staying hydrated.

what helped me increase my water intake was by getting myself a super cute water bottle! i have this pastel colored owala water bottle and i’m absolutely obsessed with it and since i love it so much i’ve just been more inclined to drink more water!

stay away from the late night snacks!

i’ve been making it a goal for myself to not eat after, at the latest, 7:30pm. with that, i also try to refrain from getting myself a late night snack.

your stomach needs time to digest all the food you’ve eaten at dinner, and doctors/nutritionists always say not to eat 2-3 hours before going to sleep! going to bed with a full stomach can cause digestive problems, and we’re trying to promote health and wellness for ourselves! not make it worse for us!

get your body moving!

even if it’s going for a short walk or getting up from the couch to stretch or dancing around in your room, you need to start moving your body! get it used to physical activity before you start trying workout routines or going to the gym or following a youtube workout video.

if you’re already a little experienced with physical activity, keep your workout routines simple and short! find beginner level youtube workout videos! again, start small. don’t try to force yourself by diving in head first into something intense!

୨ৎ — mental/emotional basics

health and wellness also means making sure your mental and emotional health & well-being are in check. you can’t do physical activities if your mind isn’t in the right place!

journal, journal, journal!

i talk about journaling A LOT, and i’m going to keep reiterating it over and over again because it works! writing down your thoughts/feelings, brain dumping, creating gratitude lists, writing down daily affirmations; it all truly helps to get yourself into a better headspace!

digital detox

sometimes, it really is that damn phone! social media can be so toxic and draining, so spend some time away from it! i’m going to hold your hand when i say this: doomscrolling on tiktok or instagram reels isn’t going to make you feel better. log out and go do something else!

read a book, journal (told you i’d bring it up again), go for a walk, chat/hangout with a friend/loved one, clean your room, take an everything shower, dance around in your room; just do something that doesn’t involve your phone!

if you want to be on your phone, maybe create a vision board on pinterest or go into your notes app and journal that way! you can also go on youtube and watch inspirational videos/podcasts or any content creators that motivate you or make you feel good.

୨ৎ — spiritual basics

this may or may not apply to you, and if it doesn’t you can go ahead and skip this part! but if it does apply to you, then stay tuned!

your spirituality can be compromised when your health and wellness needs aren’t being met. if you’re a believer in God or you believe in another higher being or the universe, try to get yourself reconnected with your spirituality!

write down prayers/affirmations/manifestations

here i am with the journaling bit again, but seriously, write it down! get into the habit of writing these things down for yourself. you can start your day with writing this stuff down or you can end your day doing so!

consume media that inspires you

youtube videos, podcasts, books, articles, essays, whatever it is just find something that you feel helps you connect with your spiritual side and immerse yourself in it!

it could be content about manifesting, content about God, content about tarot cards/readings; anything that brings you closer with your spirituality.

୨ৎ — final notes

i want to give you guys a little bit of an assignment: write and reflect on your current health and wellness. what are some aspects of it that are going really well? what are some things that still need some work? how are you going to implement healthier habits into your routine?

living healthier and promoting your personal wellness for yourself doesn’t have to be complicated. it’s okay to start off with smaller goals! the health and wellness content creators you see have all started off with the basics and the basics have helped them grow! just because it’s a small act or a tiny change, it doesn’t mean you aren’t going to see big improvements!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[justmeinadaze]

November Rain (Part 4)(Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: They and I have been through so much that I just wanted to give them a comfortable day at home.

Enjoy <3

Warnings: Warnings: Older (Late 30s) Daddy Eddie/ Young (early 20s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, morning shenanigans, LOTS of dirty talk, reader gets a phone call and Eddie makes a show of it (so semi public...I guess...Idk lol), Daddy kink of course. FLUFF, they spend the day together just talking, being intimate, and getting to know each other. Ending is hella fluffy to. No Cliffhanger.

Light Angst, like I said reader gets a call from an asshole, Eddie talks to his lawyer briefly, Reader mentions her parents divorce (again brief)

Word Count: 4501

Series Here

Instead of my normal donate button, I'm going to add some charities here. Please help anyway you can <3.

Border Kindness- "provides asylum-seekers, migrants, refugees, and the displaced with comprehensive services that include food, shelter, clothing, medical care, and legal services."

Trevor Project-"Your generosity will power The Trevor Project’s 24/7 crisis services, advocacy, peer support, public education, and research programs."

Human Rights Campaign-"Your membership donation will help push for LGBTQ+ equality and fight the attacks on our freedoms." 

Planned Parenthood- "We're working every single day to make sure patients can get the care and information they need to control their own bodies and build their own futures."

Eddie rubs his eyes as he groans awake at the sun just barely peeking through the curtains in his apartment. 

A heavy sigh leaves him as his mind runs through all the things he should get done today. 

“I have to go for a run and then weigh in to make sure I’m on track for my fight next month. I need to call my lawyer and double check some information for my divorce hearing. I should check my email to see if my boss approved those extra OT hours I requested. I need to go grocery shopping for some protein and while I do that maybe I can call Paige to check in. Let me go smoke a cigarette and then I can text Y/N to see if she talked to her douchebag.”

Reaching for his pack beside his bed, he realized there was a bit of resistance when he tried to roll over. 

When his eyes landed on your sleeping frame, his heart melted. He was so used to waking up alone lately that for a few moments his brain forgot you had spent the night. 

All of his anxieties evaporated as he rolled onto his side to face you.

What did he do to get lucky enough to wake up to a Goddess like you in his bed?  

Your hair flowed away from your face so he was able to get a good look at your plump cheeks that he reached out to caress as his thumb ran along your still slightly swollen lips from your night of kissing him and leaving your usual marks along his body. 

Eddie had left a few on you, smiling to himself when his fingers traced the hickies along your neck and shoulder. 

As he lightly tugged on the comforter under your arms, you stirred slightly as you rolled onto your back, allowing the blanket to come free as he pulled it halfway down your body. 

Along your skin were more of his love bites but his favorite was the slight ring of purple around your areola where he had sucked and flicked his tongue around your nipple loving the way you squirmed at the feeling while your fingers tangled in his hair. 

Eddie loved the way you reacted to him in more ways than one. Ava was never really vocal in bed and the few times he tried she would shut down so he stopped all together. When he would masturbate in the shower in the morning, he would picture a woman like you. A beautiful woman who would beg to be ruined by him while clinging to his body as he made them cum.

Unlike his ex-wife, he never strayed and did everything he could to satisfy her sexually even while putting his own pleasure to the side. 

You weren’t like that. 

You always voiced your concerns or found ways to let him know you were enjoying his touch. You asked him after those first few times you were intimate if there was anything else he may enjoy. 

“Tell me everything. Tell me all of your fantasies.”, you murmured as you smiled up at him, curled up in his warm embrace.

“Fuck me. Are you real? Are you sure you aren’t just a figment of my imagination?”

Your grin grew as you cupped his cheek in your palm and your eyes looked up at him as if he had hung the moon in the sky.

“I want you to enjoy yourself. I like hearing you whimper, pant, and whine when you’re fucking me.”

Eddie breathily laughed as his fingers moved your hair back as he kissed your forehead. 

“You won’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh, please, Daddy. Tell me.”, you respond playfully as he lightly blushes. 

“Honestly? I think my biggest fantasy was…is…you.”

As his beautiful eyes continued to visually drink you in, he couldn’t help himself as he tilted downward and his tongue flicked out to lightly lick your nipple. You face didn’t move or make any indication you felt anything but your body did as the bud became more erect causing him to salivate at the sight. 

Diving in again, he wrapped his mouth around the nub allowing the muscle within to play as his irises remained glued to your face. Your head turned towards him but your eyes remained closed while he tried to carefully scoot closer to your frame. His lips lightly trailed along your skin leaving little remains of his spit as his tongue would occasionally dart out to taste you. 

While delicately kissing your cheek, his palm disappeared under the comforter and he couldn’t help but groan at how warm you were between your legs as he cupped your sex. 

“Fuck, pretty girl. You’re always ready for Daddy, baby, aren’t you?”

Eddie’s husky whisper roused you slightly, as your body seemed to absently search for him and his smile grew when your side pressed against his chest. 

“Come back to me, sweetheart. I want to see those beautiful eyes.” Rough fingers slid between your folds and the metalhead moaned as he pressed his nose into your cheek. “Are you fucking kidding? How can you be this wet this early? Are you dreaming of me, honey?”

Feeling a sudden fullness, a deep moan left your lips as your eyes fluttered open meeting his now closed ones as two of his digits stretched your pussy open. 

“Daddy?”

“Fuck, baby, don’t…don’t talk like that. I’m going to bust right now if you use that sexy ass voice…God, can you feel how fucking hard I am for you?”

You nod, feeling his cock grind against your thigh. 

Craning your neck slightly, you kiss his lips and he subtly whines against them. 

“Do you want me to help you cum, Daddy?”

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”, he pants, barely able to get the words out as he licks his lips. 

When you give him permission, he haphazardly climbs on top of you and pumps his dick with you slick that was coating his fingers before guiding himself inside you. Your legs wrap around his waist as you hold him to you, tenderly kissing the base of his neck as his head falls beside you. 

Your light touches are a stark contrast to his almost animalistic pace as he continuously pants in your ear. 

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Fuck me. I don’t—don’t deserve you, pretty girl.”

You giggle as your legs lock around him at the ankle, slowing him down as he pushes up onto his palms to look down at you. 

“Yes, you do, baby. You deserve all the good things.”

“Shit…I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie falls against you once more and chases both your highs. A whine escapes your lips as your mouth falls open while your pussy quivers around him and you cum. The feeling is almost too much for him as Eddie’s fingers close around the pillow beside your head and he pounds his release inside of you. 

“Oh, oh, oh, go slow, honey.”, you whimper as he carefully pulls out and falls onto his back beside you, trying to catch his breath. “Good morning.”

He breathily laughs at your joke as he rolls onto his side to face you.

“Good morning. I’m sorry, I just…you looked so beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh my god.”, you giggle even as you lightly blush. “What do you have to do today?”

“Um…I kinda want to…spend the day here with you if that’s alright.”

Smiling, you lean towards him and gently kiss his lips.

“I’d like that. I just have to text Paige and let her know I’m not dead.”

***

Throughout the day, you two barely left each other’s side as if to make up for the lost time of the last two weeks. He made you breakfast and afterward you both relaxed on the couch watching a movie that was one of his favorites as a kid.

“From what you told me, your uncle doesn’t seem like the kind of man to let you watch Gremlins at such a young age.”

“Hey, the 80s and 90s were like the wild west, sweetheart.”, he chuckled. “Plus, as a kid, I didn’t actually realize how graphic this movie was. I mean look at the little Mogwai!”

You offered to make lunch but he insisted on doing it himself which you were absolutely fine with. You loved watching him move around his kitchen as he focused on the task in front of him. His eyebrows would meet in concentration and sometimes his tongue would stick out making you smile. 

“Where did you learn how to cook?”

“My mom was a wiz in the kitchen and Wayne was a master at the grill.”

“What about your dad?”

“He, uh, wasn’t really a master at anything except being a fuck up. He could cook up some pretty get rich quick type of deals but other than that…”

As his voice trails off, you grab his arm, pulling him to where you were sitting on the counter, placing him between your legs and wrapping your own limbs around his neck so you could kiss him. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but I’m always here whenever you want to talk about it. You can tell me anything, Eddie.”

Softly smiling, he tilts down to kiss you again before asking you about your family.  

You tell him everything you can think of including your own parent’s divorce that you breeze past hoping he won’t ask any questions which he doesn’t and after finishing the delicious meal he prepared you sit on his couch as you two continue to talk about everything that comes to mind. 

You weren’t sure why but talking with Eddie came easy and it wasn’t just because of the topic of conversations. While you told a story, he always kept his chocolate eyes zeroed in on your face as if he was literally taking in every word and digesting it into his soul. Occasionally, his palm would reach for yours or another part of your skin and his thumb would softly caress your flesh as if subconsciously reminding you that he was there and you were being heard. 

In the middle of one of your stories, his phone rang but he didn’t make a move to answer it nor react like he even heard it go off.

“You can answer that.”

“They can leave a message.”, he replies casually.  Smirking, you reach for his phone and when you read off the name, Eddie heavily sighs. “It’s my lawyer.”

“Answer it. This could be important.”

“Not as important as you.”

Again, your eyes locked on his as you searched them for any deception or indication that he was just saying these things to make you feel good before breaking your heart. He saw it immediately, the trepidation. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to change on you nor am I hiding how genuinely beautiful I think you are. You mean a lot to me.”, he murmurs soothingly as he reaches out to cup your cheek. 

After giving him a quick kiss, you press the green answer button as he playfully growls and pushes the speaker button with his finger. 

“Hey Carl.”

“Hey, Ed. I thought you were going to come by today?”

“Yeah, um, something came up.”

“Your dick.”, you mouth silently causing his eyes to narrow as he reaches out to lightly poke your side while you bite your lip trying to stifle your laugh. 

“Ok, not a problem, but please come around at least before Friday so we can talk about things. Are you sure you still want to give her the house? I mean after what she did you don’t want anything—”

“Ah, nope, Carl. I’m good with everything. I just want to get this over with as quickly and seamlessly as possible. I’ll come by tomorrow so we can talk. Ok, bye.”

“Well, that didn’t sound suspicious at all.”, you laugh as he takes his phone and hangs it up before tossing it on the table. 

“Sorry. Force of habit. Usually, when people find out I’m not asking for anything I either get the ‘Be a man’ speech or the ‘after what she did’ lecture. I just want to move on, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. My parents dealt with their divorce for a couple of years going back and forth on petty shit. Imagine being a little kid watching your parents go to court to argue about who gets the silver lamp in the living room.”, you giggle as your eyes fall to the void. “It took a while before they got to fighting over me.”

Calloused fingers lift your chin and you’re met with soft lips to yours. 

That evening without telling him, you ordered both of you a pizza and he sighed at your stubbornness as he shook his head. 

“I take care of YOU, little miss.”

“Yeah, ya do.”, you grin as you open the box and crack open one of his beers. “But I can take care of you sometimes to.”

Smiling the entire time, you two finished your meal and you were so giddy off the alcohol and the evening, you crawled into his lap to curl up in his embrace. 

“You alright?”

“More than.”, you giggle as you nuzzle into his neck. “What were you like when you were my age?”

Eddie laughs and as his whole chest vibrates you feel yourself dropping down further into that headspace. 

“Welp, back in ma day…”, he starts with a southern accent, unable to keep it up when he feels your body radiate with a happy energy that has him grinning wide. “No, um, I guess you could say I was a nerd. I played D&D with my friends and was into all that fantasy shit even then.”

As your forehead presses against his neck, your palm absently rubs his pecs to his shoulder before repeating the process. 

“I loved heavy metal and playing with my guitar. Some nights I could stay up till dawn just smoking cigarettes, playing, and talking with my friends. Then suddenly I was a husband and a father.”

Eddie feels you scrunch closer to him and his hand comes up behind you to tenderly stroke your hair. 

“Being a husband was never like this.”, he murmured. “I never felt…I don’t know…everything happened so fast. There’s not one moment I can think of where we had a day like I had today with you.” Your palm cupped his cheek as you leaned back so your eyes could meet his. “Thank you.”

Nodding, the tip of your nose touches his as he tilts down, pressing his lips to your own. 

“You’re welcome, Daddy.”

A gentle smile paints his lips as he tilts you onto your back to allow your head to lay on the arm rest as he opens your legs and lays his upper body between them to kiss your soft tummy beneath his shirt you were wearing. 

Eddie’s large hand braces against your hip as he closes his eyes and rests his head, exhaling when your fingers come down to play with his hair. You’re not sure how long you both lay like that but you know its long enough to fully fall into the warmth of your subby girl headspace and when his head tilts to look up at you, you know he sees it to. 

“If we were the same age and went to school together, do you think you still would have wanted me?”

His grin grows as you nod your head before your mouth opens and you tease, “No.”

Biting your lip, you giggle as he quirks his eyebrow and very lightly, spanks the side of your behind.  

“I’m just kidding, Daddy. I definitely would have wanted you to be mine. We would have had to sneak around though.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“My father wasn’t a fan of me dating, let alone dating bad boys like you.”

Eddie’s laugh hisses through his teeth as he leans his cheek against your knee and places his palm on your mound, allowing his thumb to hover near your parted legs. 

“What makes you think I was a bad boy, huh?”

“Guitar, smoker, motorcycle, getting into fights… Naw, you were definitely an altar boy.”

Your breath hitches as his thumb presses down on the fabric of your panties just barely allowing friction on your clit. 

“Psh, I didn’t learn how to ride a motorcycle till I was 30.”, he jests. “Everything else was on point though. I definitely would have had you on the couch in my uncle’s trailer on the second date.”

“Second date?”

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles wide when you cackle, loving the way your body moves when you do. “Jesus, these panties are soaked. Is that all because of me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His chocolate irises lock on your face as his tongue flattens against the garment blocking your cunt. 

“Fuck, you always taste so good.”

Pushing up onto your elbows, you watch as he slowly licks up and down repeatedly driving you crazy at the delicate pace. 

“Daaaaaddy…”

“Am I being too mean, baby?”, he chuckles at your whine. “I’m sorry. I just…I love taking my time with you.” Your body slightly trembles as he tenderly kisses the meat of your thigh, trailing his lips to your core before making you pout when he stops. “Let’s get these off.”, Eddie whispers as he reaches for the band of your underwear and slides them down your legs. 

Your phone on the table vibrates but you ignore it as you feel his tongue finally where you want it. 

“Please.”

“So beautiful, Y/N.”

Placing your palm over the one he has resting on your side, you moan as he runs the organ in his mouth from top to bottom between your folds, stopping to flick and suck your clit before repeating the process. 

“Fuck, just like that.”

Your heavy pants encouraged him while he continued to devour you, his lips always having you see stars. 

Again, your phone went off and you grunt in frustration when Eddie pauses. 

“You should check that.”

“I can call them back. Don’t stop—”

“Could be important—”

Angerly you grab your device, checking who was stopping you from getting what you needed. 

“It’s no one.”

“Yet they’ve called twice—”

“Eddie, please!”

The man moved in the blink of an eye; his muscular arm reaching over you to grip your cheeks till your lips puckered out. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t need to. His annoyed eyes burning into your own as you swallowed, trying to calm down. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Eddie nodded, accepting your apology as he brought your lips to his. The phone rang again and this time you showed him your screen. 

Brad

He growled lightly before a devious smirk painted his features and he answered the call. Your eyes widened in shock as you hit his shoulder but he effortlessly caught your wrist and pulled you forward so his lips could kiss you again. 

“Hello? Y/N, are you there?”

“What do you want, Bradly?”, you hiss sassily causing the metalhead to snicker. 

“I want to talk. It’s been a couple days and I haven’t heard from you. I got punched in the fucking face and my girlfriend doesn’t seem to give a damn.”

“I’m NOT your girlfriend.”

With amazing strength, Eddie pushed you back against the couch and lifted your legs over his shoulders as he pressed his face back between your folds. 

“Then what the fuck have these last couple of weeks been?!” Covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to muffle the moans that wanted to escape as the boxer made out with your pussy, his mouth barely lifting from you while his tongue expertly roamed. “Huh?! Fucking answer me!”

“It…it was…was a mistake. Now leave m-me alone.”

“You think you can just play around with my emotions like that?!”

“Fuck…Fuck you…you can’t just…come b-back into my life and think—”

“Y/N are you…are you with someone?”, he growled eliciting a smile when you felt Eddie do the same. 

Climbing up the length of your body, two of his fingers slide effortlessly inside of you and as he thrusts them into your cunt his head falls beside yours. 

“Tell him, baby. Tell him Daddy’s taking care of you.”, he whispered, your eyes rolling shut. 

“I’m with…with Daddy…fuck M��gonna cum.”

“Naw…you…your fucking lying. Trying to make me jealous. Who would want someone like you?”, he sneered. 

“There she is. That’s it, pretty girl. Cum hard for me.”, Eddie said more prominently as your body shook and the coil snapped. “Good…good girl…MY beautiful angel.”

You smiled up at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. 

“Alright, honey, time to let little boy go so Daddy can make you cum on his cock.”

“Fuck you! And fuck you, Y/N! How dare you—”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he hung up your phone and tossed it across the room on the opposite chair. 

“Do you think he’ll recognize your voice?”

“I think he was to hung up on his ego to notice, fucking asshole.”

“Aw…I like who you get all grouchy like an old man.”, you coo obnoxiously as he chuckles. 

“Hey now. You’re my girl and no one insults my girl.”

At his words, your smile faulters slightly as your fingers reach up to caress his cheek down to the stubble on his chin. 

“I’m your girl?”

“Yeah…yeah, sweetheart, if you want to be. I know we have some…I don’t know…kinks to work out—”

“I guess you could call it that.”, you joke and his grin grows.

“But I just want you to know that I’m not…I mean…I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.”

“I haven’t either. Brad and I didn’t…we didn’t do anything, I swear. I like being with you. I feel safe with you.”

The tip of his nose grazes your own. 

“You are safe with me, baby. No matter what happens I’ll be here and I’ll protect you.”

Your lips gently kiss his, steadily growing more passionate as his lower half grinds against you seeking friction and Eddie lets out a soft hum as your palms run down his bare, muscular back. With closed eyes, his forehead leans against your own as you pull down his sweats enough to free his hard cock within. 

Your eyes watch his gorgeous face as his eyebrows furrow together and he licks his lips at the feeling of your hand around him. 

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.”, he whispers and you oblige as you guide his length to your entrance.

He effortlessly takes over as he gradually thrusts his cock inch by inch into your cunt and every time his hips touch your own an utterly sexy strained grunt escapes his mouth as his jaw goes slack.

“Fuck, your pussy takes me so well. Mmph—taking Daddy so deep, baby.”

Your legs lock at the ankle around his waist and his head falls into the nook of your neck as his hand comes up along the other side to dig into the fabric of the couch as if he’s using it for leverage to try and push himself deeper. 

“Atta girl…how-how does it feel?”

You struggled to find words as his mushroom tip delicious glided along that spot inside of you gradually that had your eyes rolling. Pushing up on to his palms, his long hair tickled your face forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Tell me, honey. I need to hear it.”

Eddie knew what he was doing. 

He knew you having trouble recollecting the English language as he purposely arched his back and rolled his hips.

“Tell Daddy, baby.”

At his whispered words, he smirked as your pussy tightened around him and your whimpered breath hit his face.

“Feels good…Fuck… please…”

Falling flat against you, his palm slid down to rub your thigh around him.

“Please what?”

“Faster, Daddy, please. I wanna cum.”

The feathery kiss he placed just below your ear was light but the way he thrust himself was anything but as he did what you pleaded. Your fingers threaded through his hair as your arms wrapped around his back and Eddie mewled at the feeling of your lips trailing along shoulder to his neck. 

“Cum…Cum with me.”

He didn’t verbally respond but you felt him nod as he picked up his pace and his grunts of pleasure filled your ears. Clinging him tighter to you, your orgasm crashed into you like a wave and a giddy smile remained on your lips as he roughly pumped his release into your heat. 

While his head rested on your chest, you kissed his forehead before he pushed up onto his elbows to give you a soft kiss. 

“Nooooo…”, you whine as he starts to get up and push away from you.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart, I promise. I have to clean you. Do you want another shirt? Something not slightly covered in my sweat.”, Eddie teases as he pulls up his pants and starts heading for the bathroom. 

“No, thank you. It… smells like…you.”

He chuckled as he shook his head and disappeared to get a washrag. 

“Well, at least let’s move to the bed so you’ll be—”

When he entered his living room again, your eyes were closed giving him pause as he took in the sight before him. Kneeling down on the floor, he carefully opened your legs and tried to clean you without moving you too much, murmuring soft apologies when he notices your face scrunch at the feeling. 

“I think you were a good husband.” Eddie’s brown irises fleet to your face as you continue, your eyes still closed even through your head was turned towards him. “You said…being a husband never felt…like this. I don’t think…that was your fault. I think you were a good husband…”

Smiling, his hand cups your cheek as his thumb runs along your soft features. 

As he watches his arm across you rise and fall steadily, he realizes you’d fallen asleep again and as carefully as he can, lifts you in his arms to bring you back to his bed. After crawling in himself on his side facing you, you promptly scoot closer to him and press your face into his chest. 

His arm circles around you as he places his chin on top of your head while staring out the window behind you into the city skyline.

“Thank you, baby, for what you said. I’d…I’d like a chance to try again one day…to be a husband…maybe someday soon.” When you don’t react, he knows you’re down for the count. “Baby?”, he questions, just to make sure but when you don’t stir, he cranes his neck to kiss your forehead before whispering delicately against your skin, “I love you, Y/N.” 

###################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity @eddiesclub @wiinterwiidow @stylesxmunson

[mattsnight]

pregnancy release - chris sturniolo

warnings: oral (female!receiving), pregnancy, pain, cursing…

English is not my first language !<3 have fun

you love the idea of bringing a baby to this world. to be able to take care of something so special to you. but there are a few sides to it that suck. for example; the stupid cravings. you crave the weirdest food combo’s ever. sometimes its cheese and mustard and the other time it’s something like beans and rice. yeah, it’s crazy.

there’s also fake contractions. those ones hurt more than anything. since you’re 8,5 months you get them a lot. but then your boyfriend chris comes to the rescue and helps you get through them.

even today, you were feeling uneasy all day. you got lots of cramps, soreness and all that. chris noticed your behavior and decided to help you out, but this time a little different. before you were pregnant he used to help you with your period cramps by making you cum. it was pretty simple. he would just slowly rub your clit while the two of you were in the shower and it helps you a lot.

that’s why he wanted to try it with your pains from the pregnancy.

he carefully lays you down on the bed, making sure nothing hurts. you look up at him in confusion. what is he going to try this time? you realise what he is about to do when he gets on his knees in between your legs. his hands move to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down in a smooth motion.

then, he takes off your panties, smirking at the sight of your bare pussy. he looks over your belly, making eye contact with you. “you okay with this, ma?” he says, rubbing your inner thigh. you nod immediately. his hand moves from your thigh to your labia, rubbing over the outer ones slowly. a small gasp escapes your lips as your hands sink into his hair.

he presses one finger against your hole, not pushing it in just yet. his face inches closer to your clit, but stops. “you think you can take two fingers and my mouth, gorgeous?” he asks, wanting permission first. “mhhmm..” you hum. “use your words.”

“y-yes.. please chris.. i need it.” you whine, tugging on his hair to get him closer. he listens and quickly presses his tongue against your aching clit. you jump at the sudden feeling, while a soft moan escapes your lips. “oh! fuck— yes!”

chris pushes a finger into your hole, stretching you a little. he bites his lip as his finger completely disappears into the heat. after a short time of pleasure he adds another finger, stretching you out to your max. his tongue speeds up it’s movements, determined to get you over that edge.

and it doesn’t take long until the room is filled with your loud moans and whines and his deep breathing. then suddenly, waves of pleasure wash over you. chris slows down his movements, prolonging the orgasm until you’re left panting. “shitttt you’re so hot like this, mama..” he says, pulling back and plopping down on the bed next to you.

“Did that help the pain a bit?”

“oh it for sure did something.” you say, chuckling.

that was the best release he ever gave you.

[k1ng-ej]

Politely requesting (desperately begging) for Michael Myers and Thomas Hewitt with a (fem preferably) s/o that is super talkative and can have a conversation for hours by themselves with their nonstop rambling 🙏🏼 (my friends now time me, my record for nonstop talking about one topic is thirty two minutes)

Thomas Hewitt & Michael Myers X Reader who is talkative and rambles a lot!

Thank you for the request! Talkative is the complete opposite of what i am so i was a little stumped when i first wrote this lol. i hope you enjoy!!

Thomas Hewitt

He truly appreciates your rambling. Although he's not much of a conversation person, he’ll happily listen to you until he needs to assist Luda Mae with household chores. He finds it adorable when he catches you talking to yourself while you're busy, whether it's helping with dinner or tackling the laundry. You always manage to spark a conversation, no matter what you’re doing.

As you and Thomas lay together in bed, nestled in his embrace with your head gently resting on his chest, he played with your hair while you chatted away. Though he only half-listened to your words, he relished the soothing sound of your voice. Recently, you've taken the time to teach him how to braid hair, and now he was focused on practicing his newfound skill with your locks.

His touch was tender, and though you couldn't see it, his loving gaze was fixed upon you. He had skillfully braided a section of your hair before pausing to run his fingers through the loose strands, intently listening as you spoke. At one moment, you tilted your head up to him, seeking comfort as you nestled into his side.

He smiled warmly, his hand gently cradling your cheek. You were in the midst of recounting your trip to the store with Luda Mae, elaborating on every little detail and getting sidetracked a few times. Thomas gazed at you intently, his thumb softly stroking your cheek, completely captivated by your words.

As you were speaking, he leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, followed by a soft kiss on your lips. Your initial shock faded swiftly, and you resumed your conversation, only to be interrupted once more by his sweet kiss.

"Hey, I'm trying to tell you a story." You whined, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. While you enjoyed Tommy's kisses, you wanted to finish your story before he smothered you with them.

He shook his head softly, planting gentle kisses on your lips before finally nodding, encouraging you to continue speaking.

Michael Myers

Initially, he found you to be quite bothersome. He couldn't comprehend how one person could have an endless supply of topics to discuss or how you were able to engage in lengthy monologues with yourself. Frequently, he would stand up and walk away in the midst of your chatter.

As time went on, he became accustomed to it and could endure the noise, yet there were moments when he craved silence. Though he would never confess it, there were instances when he genuinely tuned in to your conversation and even found himself intrigued.

Both of you sat on the couch, a random movie flickering on the TV. As you focused on creating a birthday gift for your friend, you shared amusing stories about them with your murderous boyfriend. It didn’t matter whether he was listening or not; you simply enjoyed recounting the tales.

Out of nowhere, a hand pressed firmly over your mouth. Confused, you furrowed your brows and glanced at Michael, who remained fixated on the television before him.

You pried his hand off with a frown. "That was rude, you know you can just turn the tv up if you don't want to hear me, right?"

With excruciating slowness, he turned his head to face you. Although his eyes were concealed by the mask, his gaze held an intensity that was impossible to ignore. You arched an eyebrow and let out a sigh before returning to the task of wrapping the gift, continuing the tale you had been sharing.

Barely a few words in, his hand was back over your mouth. You attempted to push it away, but it was no use. Frustration escaped in a huff through your nose as you shot him a glare, though he remained fixated on the movie.

Michael felt a sudden wetness followed by a sharp, painful pinch on his palm. Instinctively, he pulled his hand back and examined the damage. Deep teeth marks were indented in his skin, leaving it slightly red and swollen. As he turned to face you, he caught sight of your mischievous smirk.

"You gonna let me finish my sentence now?"

You could hear him huffing behind his mask as he leaned back against the couch. Satisfied, you nodded and resumed sharing stories about your friend while you wrapped their gift.

[orphicrealities]

LITTLE THINGS THAT HELPED ME SHIFT REALITIES

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

-> no methods, all about mindset (for shifters who haven’t shifted yet)

Note; I haven’t shifted to my DR, but I have shifted before. It was smooth, it wasn’t desired, but it happened. I do not claim to be an expert, I share my own experiences and what helped me.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Being scared to shift

Obviously, shifting involves stepping into a place that is unknown, no matter how much you script it, your subconsciousness right now has not experienced it.

Facts to help;

There’s no “OMG I shifted” moment, it’s natural. You have existed in your DR since you were born in that reality. It is just like here, you don’t freak out when you wake up, it’s a smooth and natural process. This is the same for your DR.

Life. Sure, for some perfectionists and paranoid people you might want to think of every single thing that could go wrong and script to avoid it. How have you survived in this reality like this? Exactly. Life will throw all sorts of stuff at you, you’re at an advantage in your DR because of your script, doesn’t mean bad stuff won’t happen, because it will. Life being unpredictable is a constant, take it as such.

Your script isn’t a cage. “What if I fall out of love with him”, break up. Everything is constantly changing, feelings especially. It doesn’t matter, it just happens. It’s not the end of the world if after a couple years in your DR your life is completely different to how you imagine it. It’s like your CR. TAKE THIS AS A CONSTANT

You will always have constants, similarities and the option TO SHIFT BACK. Remember: you are in control

Methods to overcome;

Journaling about why you’re scared is a massive help. This doesn’t have to be physical! There apps such as “Dayol” which are beautiful for journaling. Addressing your fear directly as it is can help overcome it, or learn to live with it.

Work on letting go. Meditation/subliminals to work on mentally preparing and letting go of this reality, being ready to face whatever happens in your DR and remembering that you are always in control.

Create a comfort of day to day routine in your DR. Do not just think about big moments, like you and your S/O’s first kiss, first day of Hogwarts etc. Think about your warm cozy evenings in bed, your school timetable. This is what relates and links this to your CR, those small moments that you cherish wherever you are, can help let go.

Speaking of letting go, let go of the pressure. Be excited, but view it as a small (if any) change in your life. Its natural, it’s fluid and it’s barely a transition

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Get out of the “failing” mindset

“I had a dream about my DR but didn’t shift” “I tried to shift but I just woke up in this reality” When you use asleep methods (or even awake methods and end up falling asleep) if you end up dreaming about your DR (or even if you don’t), it’s a sign that your subconscious is engaged in working towards the goal of being in your desired reality. Do not be demotivated by this, if you can move your mindset to being more positive, you can recognise that dreams can offer a sign of hope, insights and clarity about our DR while within your CR

Your CR is still one of the many realities in the multiverse for you to explore. Treat it as such, yes your DR may be more desired, but there is still so much to do here, to learn, to discover. You’re never stuck in your DR, why would you be stuck here?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

You deserve it, and you can have it

You deserve those drastic changes, being able to do magic, be with those you love and love your dream life.

I feel a lot of shifters have very low self esteem, not knowing if they deserve it but knowing they can have it -> therefore in turn putting their DR on a pedestal.

You deserve it, you can have it there, you can have it here. Stop being so defeatist, confidence.

Confidence;

- KNOWING you will shift, not an “attempt”

- KNOWING you deserve everything

- KNOWING it’s just your life

Look in the mirror, repeat them every day, every time you remember.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

You got this, happy shifting. You will shift.

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[cumironi]

I CAN F☆CK TREAT YOU BETTER g. satoru

☆ sum. you and gojo were all alone, no geto around, just the two of you— all alone, in the bed, kissing, make out under the glisten of the dim lights, under the blanket.

warning. established relationship au, fem! reader, pet names, nipple-plāy, unprotected sēx, gojo is jealous because you love geto’s broodiness, i need thissssss

there is one thing about you that your two boyfriends never get used to, even though you’ve spent years dating: whenever one of them goes on a mission for a few days and it’s just you with one of them, you become a different person. you’re more clingy, more affectionate, more romantic and sweet, making them fall in love with you all over again.

just like right now, you were laying on your side, face to face with gojo. it was just the two of you for a few days before geto had to leave for a mission, which meant you both had a lot of time to enjoy each other’s company.

the two of you didn’t say anything, just looking into each other's eyes, your cheeks flushed against the soft pillow under the gentle blue light of the moon. the quiet moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his gaze held a mix of adoration and curiosity. it was in these moments that you felt the most connected, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek, marveling at the way his expression shifted, softening as he leaned into your touch. “you know, i could get used to this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo found himself lost in the depths of your eyes, captivated by their warmth and tenderness. he let out a soft sigh, his fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, relishing the sensation of closeness between the two of you.

he chuckled at your words, his hand moving from your arm to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing soft circles against your jawline. “you get so clingy when it’s just us,” he teased, a playful smirk on his lips. “are you complaining?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

“absolutely not,” he replied, his smirk widening as he shifted closer, the tips of both your noses just barely touching. his fingertips grazed the top of your cheekbone, his gaze never leaving yours.

“in fact, i quite like it,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “it’s like i get to see a side of you that’s meant just for me. and that’s a privilege i’m not gonna take for granted.” gojo’s eyes flicked over your face, studying the way the soft moonlight illuminated your features. the two of you were so close that he could see every small detail of your expression, each flutter of your eyelashes, each subtle shift in your expression.

he couldn’t help but be captivated by you, by the way you responded to his touch, by the way you looked at him with such open affection. he leaned in just a little bit closer, his breath fanning across your lips. “you know,” he began, a hint of teasing in his voice, “if suguru was here, i wouldn’t get to have you all to myself,” he finished, his hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

a small, almost possessive smile played at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer still, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours. “and i’m kinda selfish when it comes to you.”

you chuckle, feigning a pout as you replied teasingly, “well, you know, i can give just as much attention to one of you without the other sulking and pouting about it.” you mutter between your smile. the tip of your index finger poking his dimple.

gojo chuckled at your teasing, his smirk only growing wider. “oh really?” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “you’re telling me you could give us both equal attention without playing favorites?” he leaned into your touch, his dimple indenting a bit more as you poked it. “i’m pretty sure i’ve seen the way your eyes light up whenever suguru walks into a room. you’d always choose him over me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, scrunching your nose playfully at his accusation. your fingers danced lightly over his chest, tickling him just faintly as you replied, “it’s not my fault that suguru is so dreamy and handsome and soft!” you flashed him a teasing grin, enjoying the way his expression shifted, a mix of amusement and mock jealousy. “i mean, can you blame me? he has that whole brooding look down to a science,” you added with a dramatic sigh.

gojo let out a mock gasp, pretending to be offended. “oh, so that’s how it is? you like geto more because he’s brooding and brooding is attractive?” he feigned a pout for a moment before his smirk returned, his hand moving down from your neck to rest on your hip, his fingers drumming against the skin. “well, you know what? i can brood too, you know. i can be serious and intense.” he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping another octave. “can geto do this?”

and before you could respond, gojo’s lips were on yours in a searing kiss. it was a possessive kiss, his hand gripping your hip tighter as his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. he pressed into you, his body almost fully on top of yours as he deepened the kiss, his free hand finding its way into your hair, tangling among the strands.

he broke the kiss, but only to kiss down the side of your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. he sucked on your pulse point, his teeth grazing against it, his hand on your hip moving up your side to lightly brush against the underside of your breast.

gojo’s fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of your jawline as he pulls away, his touch sending shivers down your spine. he shift back onto his sides before continued to gaze at you with an intense, brooding look, his eyes locked onto yours.

“i can brood just as well as he can,” he said again, his voice still soft. “maybe even better. i just choose not to, because i think it’s more fun to make you laugh.” he leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “so, have i won you over yet? am i brooding enough for you?” a warm smile coloring his handsome face.

you couldn’t help but giggle at his faux broodiness, your heart fluttering at the way he was trying so hard to be serious and sexy.

you reached up a hand, cupping his cheek as you studied his expression, his sharp features framed by the moonlight. “oh, definitely,” you replied, your tone playful and lighthearted. “i don’t think i can handle that brooding stare of yours. it’s just too intense.” you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your thumb caressing the high line of his cheekbone.

“but,” you added, a sly smirk playing at your lips, “i might need a little more convincing. just to be sure.” your hand moves down from gojo’s cheek to his chest, your fingers brushing against the firm muscle hidden beneath his shirt. your touch is light, teasing, your fingertips tracing circles over his pecks.

“you know,” you continued, your voice lower now, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed for this little demonstration.” you glanced down, noting the way his shirt was still very much on, preventing you from fully appreciating his toned physique.

gojo’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk tugging at his lips. “too clothed, huh?” he repeated, his hands immediately going to the hem of his shirt. he pulled it off in a swift, fluid motion, flinging it carelessly onto the floor. the moonlight illuminated the planes of his chest and abdomen, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

your eyes roamed shamelessly over the expanse of his bare torso, taking in the dips and curves of his muscles. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked, not by a long shot, but the sight of him like this always seemed to make your heart race. you reached out, your hand tracing a slow, languid path down his chest and stomach, following the sculpted ridges that disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers.

gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rich in his throat. “you like what you see, huh?” he teased, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pinning your hand to his chest. he shifted closer to you, his breath warm against your neck. “well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed as well.”

a shiver ran down your spine as gojo’s breath ghosted over your neck, his words sending a spark of anticipation through your body. you tilted your head, exposing more of your skin to his teasing touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in the feeling of his lips grazing against your ear.

“oh, am i?” you replied, your tone lilting with playful coyness. “i suppose you’ll have to do something about that then.” gojo smirked, taking the hint as he slowly pushed you back onto the bed, his body caging you in as he leaned over you.

his hands were everywhere, skating over your arms and your sides, skimming over the edges of your clothes, fingers tracing over every curve. he reached your shirt, his fingers catching on the hem. he tugged at it, pulling it up over your stomach and ribcage, revealing more and more of your skin.

he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his mouth warm and soft against your skin. he moved lower, his hands sliding the rest of your shirt up and over your head, casting it to the side. his mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your breast, his teeth grazing over the fabric of your bra. he reached around your back, his fingers hooking into the hooks of your bra. dextrous fingers nimbly work to undo the fastening.

as gojo’s mouth and tongue lavished your body, his hands worked to free you from the confines of your bra. you arched your back, your breath coming in soft gasps, your body responding to his every touch. he was gentle but insistent, his fingers moving with practiced ease, like he had been doing this for years. he took his time, but not too much time, his hands slipping the straps off your arms.

gojo’s mouth was on your skin again, his lips and tongue exploring the newly exposed flesh of your chest and stomach. he moved lower, planting soft kisses along your stomach, each touch sending shivers of desire down your spine. his hands skimmed over the curve of your hips, his fingers hooking into the edges of your pants, his mouth still moving over your skin, his teeth lightly nipping and biting at the sensitive spots he knew drives you crazy.

one by one, he undid the buttons and zipper of your pants, his hands slipping them down over your hips, taking your panties down with them. they were tossed onto the floor without a thought, his hands quickly moving back up your legs, his touch light and teasing, dancing just shy of where you wanted them to be.

gojo’s hands glided over your legs, his touch a tantalizing combination of feather-light and firm. he was taking his time, prolonging the anticipation, his lips moving back up your body, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way up to your neck. his body was almost flush against yours, his arms bracketing your head, his weight bearing down just enough to keep you trapped under him.

you push yourself in your elbows, pushing gojo’s head away to meet his lips. your hand runs around his chest to his nape, brushing your fingers to his undercut. the kiss was slow, deliberate, no lust or hunger like you pour all of your love for him.

as your lips meet in a slow, loving kiss, gojo melts into it, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen the contact. he lets out a soft moan, the sound muffled by your mouth, his hand moving to cup the side of your jaw, his fingertips tracing gentle circles against your skin.

he tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours, his body pressing closer, his chest flush against yours. there’s a tenderness in the way he’s kissing you, an affectionate adoration that pours out from every fiber of his being.

gojo breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his eyes soft and sparkling in the dim moonlight. he traces his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, his touch gentle and almost reverent. “you know,” he says, his voice quieter now, a hint of teasing still present in his tone, “you didn’t let me finish my demonstration.”

you chuckle, scrunching your nose out of a habit while you let your hand caressing his neck to his bare chest. “forget the demonstration, let’s just cuddle,” you murmur, “a naked one,” you added before giggling. gojo chuckled at your response, the sound deep and rich in his throat, his eyes sparkling with affection and amusement. he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side, pulling you close against him, your body molding against his.

his arms encircled you, pulling you tight against his chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “i suppose a naked cuddle is an acceptable alternative,” he teased, his voice low and affectionate. he nuzzled against your hair, burying his face in your neck. “you’re such a distraction, you know.”

you shook your head with a soft chuckle, gently pushing gojo’s face away from your neck. “i wanna see your face,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze. your hand rested against his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you smiled warmly at him. “wanna see my boyfriend,” you said softly, taking in his face, appreciating the quiet intimacy.

gojo’s heart swelled at your words, a soft, almost shy smile spreading across his face. he leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression softening with each caress of your thumb against his skin.

“you’re such a sap,” he teased, his voice dripping with affection. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even tighter against him, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m right here,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours. “right where you want me to be.”

you hummed softly, the sound barely audible as the two of you lay there, lost in each other’s gaze. the room was filled with a quiet, intimate stillness, your cheek flushed against the soft pillow, while gojo’s warm presence enveloped you completely.

gojo’s fingers traced patterns on your back as the two of you lay together, his eyes lazily tracing the contours of your face, his fingers dancing over the dip of your waist before moving up to trace your jawline. there was no rush, no urgency, just the slow, languid movement of his hands against your skin, the quiet rhythm of your breathing filling the room. he leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “you have no idea how much i love these moments with you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hummed softly again, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you as gojo shifted slightly, settling onto his side to mirror your position. his cheek pressed into the pillow, and his bright blue eyes stayed fixed on yours, filled with that familiar mix of affection and playfulness.

your fingertips gently tugged a few strands of his hair behind his ear, then trailed across his scalp, eliciting a quiet sigh from him. your voice was barely audible as you murmured, “i love your eyes,” your thumb softly brushing over his temple.

a soft smile tugged at the corners of gojo’s lips as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the sensation of your fingers in his hair. he nuzzled against your hand, his cheek pressing firmly against your palm, his expression relaxing further. “do you now?” he replied, his tone lilting with teasing. “what is it about them that you love so much?” his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours once again, a sparkle of mischief in their depths.

you hummed in confirmation, your voice gentle as your fingertips continued to glide softly over his scalp. “it’s beautiful,” you whispered, your tone sincere. “like i’m looking at the open sky, like i’m drowning in a warm ocean. it’s warm… it’s like summer.”

your words left gojo momentarily stunned. his usually confident, playful demeanor faltered as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. nobody had ever told him they loved his eyes, not for anything other than the immense power they held. but here you were, speaking so simply, so earnestly, about them.

gojo was silent for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the honesty and vulnerability in your words, his mind struggling to process the raw emotion in your voice.

he exhaled slowly, a soft, shaky breath slipping past his lips. no one had ever described his eyes like that before. to everyone else, they were a tool, a symbol of power, a weapon. but to you, they were something beautiful, something warm and comforting. he reached up, his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your lips.

“you’re really something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a mix of awe and tenderness. he shifted closer to you, his chest pressing against yours, his leg slipping between yours. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him, burying his face in your neck. “you always say the most unexpected things,” he continued, his lips skimming against your skin, his breath hot and warm against your collarbone. “and you always leave me speechless.”

you gently pushed him away, just enough to create a bit of space between you, your fingers lightly pressing against his chest. “no, no, no,” you murmured, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “come on, don’t do that. i wanna see you.”

your eyes searched his, wanting to keep that connection, to see the emotion that flickered across his face whenever you said something unexpected. your fingers found their way back to his jawline, tracing the contours of his face as you gave him a small, playful smile. “i don’t like it when you hide,” you added softly, your thumb grazing over his bottom lip.

as you gently pushed him back and your fingers traced his jawline, gojo chuckled softly, his smile a mix of amusement and affection. he leaned back just enough to let you see his face, his eyes tracing over every feature, drinking you in.

your words linger in his ears, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “i wasn’t hiding,” he protested, his tone lighthearted. “i was snuggling.” he couldn’t help but smile at your playfulness, his hand moving to caress your side, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip.

“you just make it so difficult to not bury my face in your neck,” he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “every time you say things like that, it sets my heart racing, and all i want to do is get closer, closer, closer.”

he pulled you flush against him, his body molding to yours, his arms wrapping around you like a tight embrace. he buried his head in the crook of your neck again, pressing his lips against your skin, inhaling your scent.

you groaned softly in protest, your hands coming up to gently push at his chest again. “oh, come on,” you whined playfully, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. “i said i want to see your face, not have you hide in my neck.”

gojo chuckled again, the sound muffled against your neck as he buried his face deeper into the crook. he knew he was being petulant and stubborn, but he couldn’t help it. he loved being close to you, the feeling of your body against his, your scent filling his lungs. “but it’s so comfortable here,” he protested, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “and you smell so good. and you’re so warm.”

you tried to tilt his head up, your fingers threading through his hair, but gojo only chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “just a little longer,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, clearly enjoying how much you were trying to pull him away.

gojo was clearly enjoying your struggle, his arms unyielding as he held onto you with a smirk on his face. he nuzzled against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “just a little longer,” he repeated, his voice filled with faux innocence. “i’m not tired yet. and you'’e so warm and soft, it would be wasteful to not take advantage of it.”

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he was lying halfway on top of you, his body completely covering yours, his weight pushing you down into the softness of the bed. “besides,” he murmured, his lips skimming over your jawline. “i think you secretly like having me pressed against you like this.”

you groaned, feigning annoyance, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, pulling him closer. “don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, your lips brushing against his ear, though the smile on your face betrayed your playful mood. as you glanced down at his bare form, your eyes caught sight of his rear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. without thinking, your hands slid down his back, and before he could react, you grabbed a handful of his cheeks, giving them a playful squeeze.

gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth at your unexpected squeeze. he let out a yelp, the sound a mix of surprise and mild outrage. “hey!” he protested, lifting his head and looking down at you with amused indignation. “warn a guy next time!” he exclaimed through a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he shifted slightly, his body moving into a more comfortable position atop yours, a playful smirk spreading across his lips.

you burst into laughter, unable to contain your amusement. “it’s not my fault!” you teased, still chuckling. “it was just there, looking at me.” you punctuated your words with another playful taps on his rear, the sound light but cheeky.

gojo rolled his eyes, a mix of mock annoyance and amusement in his expression. he propped himself up on his arms, a sly smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “oh, so it’s my fault for having a perfectly shaped backside?” he teased, arching an eyebrow, his arms caging you in. “i think you’re just trying to cop a feel whenever you get the chance.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your face. “perfect?” you echoed, giving his ass another teasing squeeze. “more like flat! if i squeeze it, it feels like a bag of airbags!”you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of mock horror that crossed his face, and you leaned back against the pillows, clearly enjoying this banter. “seriously, baby, you need to work on that if you want to maintain your ‘perfect’ reputation!”

gojo’s eyes widened comically, his brows shooting up to his forehead. “airbags?!”he sputtered, his tone incredulous. “my ass is not bags of airbags, it's firm and toned and well-defined!” he feigned offense, a dramatic pout crossing his face as he pretended to be deeply wounded by your insult. “do you know how many squats i do? how many leg days i put in? this is an insult to my hard work and dedication!”

he leaned back, lifting his hips up so you could see the full expanse of his rear. “look at it! look at the muscle tone, the symmetry, the perfection,” he exclaimed, gesturing broadly. his tone was laced with playful sarcasm, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced down at you. “surely you’re not blind. you must see how flawlessly sculpted it is.”

you hummed thoughtfully as you looked at his rear, pretending to admire it. then, with a swift motion, you gave him a playful spank, laughing as you looked up at him. “yeah, flatass!” you teased, your voice light and filled with mischief.

gojo let out another exaggerated gasp, the sound filled with fake shock and indignation. he placed a hand over his heart, his expression one of mock hurt. “flatass?!” he exclaimed, feigning disbelief. “after all the hard work i put into sculpting this masterpiece? you wound me, babe. you truly wound me.” he leaned back down, his chest pressing against yours again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll have you know, my behind is a work of art. a masterpiece of the human form.”

he leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his expression still one of mock outrage, though his eyes sparkled with mirth. “i think you need to show me some appreciation, apologize for that baseless disparagement of my very well-maintained behind,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“baseless disparagement!?” gojo repeated, a hint of indignation in his voice. “i’ve never seen a more shameless display of disrespect. my backside deserves respect and admiration. and you, dear one, owe me payment for the slander you have inflicted upon it.”

he leaned down even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes darkened with desire. “and i demand a proper apology. a thorough, passionate one.” your heartbeat quickened at the low rumble of his voice, a shiver running down your spine as he hovered over you. his proximity and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief made it hard to resist.

“oh, is that so?” you replied, feigning mock ignorance. “and how exactly do you want me to express this appreciation? a kiss? a squeeze? too bad suguru wasn’t here to back me up.”

gojo chuckled, his eyes filled with laughter as he shifted slightly, his body pressing even closer to yours. “now now, no bringing up my best friend while we’re having an intimate moment. that's cheating.” he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “i think a sincere apology, one that involves your hands expressing their remorse, would suffice. and perhaps a few kisses, just to drive the point home, naturally.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your lips as you murmured, “yeah?” your fingers trailed slowly down his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. you reach lower, brushing your fingers to his happy trails and feeling his hardness pressing against your thigh.

you leaned in closer, your voice teasingly soft. “and what exactly do you want from me, oh great master of the flat ass?” your hand continued to explore, relishing the way his body reacted to your touch, eager to see how far you'd push this playful moment.

gojo chuckled again, his breath hot against your neck as he felt your fingers trailing down his chest, his body responding to your touch instinctively. he shifted slightly, arching his back as your fingers moved lower, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he felt your touch on his happy trail.

he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear again, his voice a deep, rumbling murmur. “i want you to show your appreciation, darling. show me just how much you admire this apparent ’flat ass’ of mine.”

you murmured softly in his ear, your breath warm against his skin, “oh, i can definitely do that.” your lips brushed lightly against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

with a sly smile, you pulled the cover over the both of you, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of the blanket. gojo chuckled, his grin widening as he realized your playful intent. “hiding, huh?” he teased, his voice low and amused as the blanket enveloped your naked both, creating a cozy cocoon around your entwined bodies. “i like where this is going.”

gojo’s heart raced as the blanket enveloped you both, his body instantly warmed by the close proximity of yours. he could feel your skin against his, your breath on his neck, the playful anticipation thrumming through his veins. he chuckled again, his smile matching your own as his hands roamed, exploring the curves of your body beneath the cover. “i can see where this is headed, naughty girl,” he teased, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

he leaned in, his lips finding your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin there. his hands continued to roam, his touch a tantalizing mixture of firm and gentle as they explored your body with a possessive quality.

he shifted his position slightly, his body settling between your legs, his weight pressing against you as he hovered above you, the cover hiding your bodies from view. “you sure know how to play dirty,” he murmured, his voice filled with mischief and desire.

your arms wrapped around his broad shoulder, pulling him impossibly close to your naked body, his body curling around yours. a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his chest brushing against yours.

“hiding? me? never.” you teased, his voice filled with amusement as you let out a soft moan. “just creating a little private sanctuary for us, away from the judgmental eyes of the world." you leaned in, breathe warmly against his shoulder, your teeth gently nipping at his shoulder. “just the two of us and this cozy blanket cocoon. just the two of us, no suguru. us.”

gojo grinned, his teeth nipping back at your shoulder, a playful growl escaping his throat. “a private sanctuary, hm?” he mused, his voice low and sultry as his hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer into his embrace. “well then, i suppose we should make the most of our privacy.”

his lips trailed lower, kissing along your collarbone before planting a series of kisses across your chest, each one landing with more pressure than the last. he suckled gently on your nipple, teasing the hardened peak with his tongue, his hands still holding onto your hips firmly. “and don’t worry about suguru,” he whispered huskily, his voice vibrating against your skin. “i promise not to tell.”

the sensation of gojo’s mouth on your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your toes curl underneath the covers. a soft gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back onto the pillow as he lavished attention on your breasts.

“mmm...” you hummed, arching your back slightly, pushing your chest further into his mouth. “that’s exactly what i was hoping for.” your hands moved down to his waist, slipping under the covers to explore the contours of his strong, toned body. your fingers traced the lines of muscle, feeling the ridges and dips of his abdomen, before eventually reaching lower, towards his throbbing member.

gojo’s eyes darkened with lust as he felt your fingers trail down his stomach, inching closer to his aching erection. a low groan rumbled in his chest, his hips involuntarily bucking up into your touch.

“careful now, naughty girl,” he warned, his voice thick with desire. “you’re playing with fire.” despite his words, he didn't stop you, instead, guiding your hand to wrap around his hard length, his breath hitching as your fingers closed around him.

he began to move, thrusting into your grip as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts, alternating between sucking and biting the tender flesh. his free hand slid down to join yours, helping to pump himself in time with your strokes. “fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger and need.

the sound of his voice, laced with desire, sent another wave of heat rushing through your body. your grip tightened around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately, wanting to draw out every moan and gasp from his lips.

“you’re so hard...” you purred, leaning up to capture his lips in a searing kiss. your tongue danced with his, the taste of him filling your senses. you broke the kiss, panting heavily, your cheeks flushed with arousal. your eyes lock with his blue eyes, glow slightly under the cover.

gojo’s eyes glowed faintly beneath the cover, a sign of his growing excitement. his breathing became heavier, his muscles tensing as your skilled hand worked his shaft. he kissed you back fiercely, his tongue dominating yours, claiming your mouth as his own.

“hard for you,” he breathed when the kiss broke, his voice rough with need. “always so fucking hard for you.” he pushed your hand away suddenly, pinning both of your wrists above your head with one large hand. he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock nudging your slick folds. “tell me you want it,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

your breath hitched as he positioned himself at your entrance, your body quivering with anticipation. you arched your hips upwards, seeking more contact, craving the feel of him inside you.

“i want it,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, “i want you, baby. i want you, slow and gentle, i want to savor you, making love to me.”

your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to fill you completely. your fingers curled into the sheets above you, your nails digging into the fabric as you waited for him to take you, to claim you as his own. your eyes bored into his, reflecting the same intense hunger that burned within them. your hand cupping his cheek gently, full of adoration and tenderness.

gojo’s expression softened at your words, his eyes shining with a mix of love and desire. he leaned into your touch, pressing a tender kiss to your palm before releasing your wrists and settling his weight on top of you.

“slow and gentle,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “anything for you, my love.” he captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by delicious inch. a low groan tore from his throat at the feeling of your tight warmth enveloping him, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

when he opened them again, they were filled with adoration and devotion, mirroring the emotions swirling in your own gaze. he began to move, his thrusts measured and controlled, taking his time to savor every moment of your union.

the sensation of being filled by him, slowly and deeply, was overwhelming. your body trembled with pleasure, your inner walls clenching around his cock as he moved within you.

“baby..” you whimpered, your head thrown back in ecstasy. your hands roamed over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the ripple and flex beneath your fingertips. each stroke, each movement, brought you closer to the edge. you could see the love in his eyes, the care and concern reflected there, even amidst the lust and desire. it made your heart swell, made you love him even more.

“don’t stop...” you pleaded, your voice ragged with need, forehead pressed against his.

gojo’s pace remained steady, his movements deliberate and sensual, driven by the desperation to please you. he reveled in the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him, the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

“never, my love,” he vowed, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “i’ll never stop loving you, never stop wanting you.”

he captured your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your whimpers and pleas as he continued to make slow, passionate love to you. his free hand found its way to your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple between his fingers, adding an extra layer of stimulation to the already intense sensations.

the dual sensations of his cock moving inside you and his fingers teasing your nipples had you teetering on the brink of climax but not quite yet. your moans grew ragged, more urgent, your hips rising to meet his thrusts as you chased the impending orgasm but you try to hold yourself, wanting the moment last longer.

“i love you, satoru,” you cried out, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. your nails dug into his back, marking him as your own.

the air was thick from the lack of oxygen, filled with breathless moan, whimper and whining. it was quite dark, only the light illuminating from a slight gap. the two of you couldn’t stop whispering sweet nothing into each other’s ear.

“my love...” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. “my beautiful, perfect love...” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

gojo’s grip on your breast tightened as he felt your body begin to tense, signaling your approaching climax. he increased the pressure on your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. “i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he growled, his voice husky with desire.

“keep it slow, baby, want it slow, let me hold you for a moment,” you whisper, nose nuzzling against his sweaty cheek. your arm wraps around his broad shoulder while your other hand holds his bicep.

gojo’s movements slowed even further, becoming almost languid as he savored the intimate moment with you. he rested his forehead against yours, their noses touching, sharing ragged breaths.

“forever, my love,” he promised, his voice a low rumble. “i’ll hold you forever if that’s what you want.” his hand slid down to cradle your hip, pulling you impossibly closer, their bodies melding together in a perfect fusion of flesh and soul.

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his words and the sheer intensity of the connection between you. you nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

in this quiet, suspended moment, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side, hand in hand, hearts entwined. the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the beauty and power of your love.

gojo brushed away the tears that escaped, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he gazed into your eyes. “my beautiful, tearful angel,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. “you're everything to me, now and always.”

he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a tender, loving kiss, pouring all his devotion and adoration into the gentle press of his lips against yours. in this perfect, peaceful instant, wrapped in each other’s arms, you both knew that your bond was unbreakable, a love that would endure through eternity.

your lips moved softly against his, returning the tender kiss with equal affection. your fingers intertwined with his, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. a sense of contentment washed over you, filling you with warmth and happiness. you felt safe, loved, cherished— exactly where you belonged. “love you, satoru,” you murmured against his mouth, the words barely audible over the pounding of your hearts. “forever and always.”

your tears dried up, replaced by a warm, radiant smile. your lips parted under his, welcoming the soft, affectionate kiss. you ran your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, holding him close. “i’m yours, completely,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with so much love and commitment. your heart is beating faster, matching with his cock throbbing inside you.

gojo’s heart swelled with love and gratitude at your declaration, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “and i’m yours, my darling,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “for all eternity.”

he returned your kiss with renewed passion, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring every inch of your warmth. his free hand roamed over your curves, mapping the contours of your body as if committing them to memory. “mine,” he growled possessively, his teeth grazing your lower lip. “all mine, now and forever.”

his hips began to move again, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency as the need for release became too great to ignore. he set a relentless pace, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes, determined to bring you both to the heights of ecstasy once more.

your body arched off the bed, responding eagerly to his movements. your nails dug into his back, leaving marks of ownership as you clung to him. the pleasure was building within you, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap.

“i’m yours,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desire, “yours... —keep moving like that baby, my boy..” you moan, skating your fingers to his nape and putting a pressure there with your fingers.

the room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, mixed with your cries of pleasure and gojo’s guttural groans. your breasts bounced rhythmically with each of his thrusts, nipples hardening even further under his touch.

“that’s it, my love,” gojo panted, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “take all of me, every inch.” he could feel your walls fluttering around his shaft, signaling your impending climax. he redoubled his efforts, angling his hips to hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust, determined to send you hurtling over the edge.

“come for me, my beautiful girl,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “let go, i’ve got you.”

one hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. the added stimulation proved to be your undoing, and with a keening cry, you came undone beneath him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

your vision went white as the pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave of pure bliss radiating from your core. you screamed his name, your voice raw and hoarse, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

“satoru! baby, fuuuck!” you groan, feeling your inner walls clench around his hard cock. your whole body trembled and shook, overcome by the intense sensations coursing through you. you felt gojo’s cock twitch inside you, growing even harder as your walls contracted around him. you knew he was close, teetering on the brink of his own release. “cum for me baby, let me feel your love.”

gojo grunted, his hips jerking as he felt your walls clamping down on him. “fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, his body shuddering with the effort of holding back. his grip tightened on your hips, digging his fingers into your flesh as he pistoned in and out of you. he could feel his climax approaching, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep him away.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,“ he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “i’m gonna fill you up, my sweet girl. take all of me.”

you moaned loudly as gojo’s cock throbbed inside you, his hot cum filling you up. you clenched your muscles around his cock, milking him for everything he had. your body was still trembling from your own orgasm, but you managed to keep yourself upright as gojo emptied himself inside you. “so good... so fucking good.”

gojo collapsed onto you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. “damn, you’re incredible,” he muttered, planting kisses along your neck and shoulder. he held you close, his large frame wrapping protectively around you like a cocoon. “i love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

he stayed buried inside you, not yet ready to separate their joined forms. the afterglow of their lovemaking enveloped them, making the room seem warmer, softer. you cuddled closer to gojo, your body still tingling from the intensity of your orgasms. you felt satisfied, complete, in a way that nothing else could give you.

“i love you too, satoru,” you murmured, your voice just as soft as his. “more than anything else.” you felt gojo's seed starting to leak out of you, trickling down your thighs and the bed below.

you pull the blanket off you both and take a deep breath, “finally, i can breath.”

gojo chuckled as you finally pulled back the cover, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, his arms wrapped around your waist. “you were getting all hot and bothered under there, weren’t you, my little sauna?” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

he glanced down, his eyes tracing the path of his seed leaking out of you, and he couldn't help a soft sigh escaped him. “damn, that’s a sight,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction. he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against your neck, his hands caressing your skin. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice laced with affection. “so damn perfect.”

you chuckle, frowning a little with his choice of nickname. “my little sauna? what an odd nickname you’ve got there,“ you tease, voice light and full of amusement. your sweaty arms find gojo’s broad shoulder and draw him closer, skin-to-skin with your chest.

gojo chuckled at your comment, enjoying the lighthearted banter between you two. “hey, i think it's a good nickname,” he retorted, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “it suits you, what with all that heat and wetness you generate.”

he let you pull him closer, relishing the feel of your skin against his, the sweat making your bodies slick and sticky. his arms encircled your waist, holding you close as he settled against you, his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, his breath warm against your skin.

“mmm, you smell good,” he murmured, his nose buried in your hair. you hummed softly at his comment, a teasing smile spreading across your face. “that’s just the smell of sex,” you replied playfully, your voice laced with mischief.

gojo chuckled again, his lips curving into a boyish grin as he nuzzled your hair. “well, i’m not complaining,” he responded, his voice low and suggestive.

he shifted his position slightly, his body shifting closer to yours as he continued to hold you close. his hand moved to the small of your back, gently tracing small circles with his fingertips. “and i think you smell even better than usual,” he murmured, his lips finding their way to your neck again, his tongue tracing a path down your throat.

you pushed gojo’s face away from your neck, turning to lay face to face with him. your hands cupped his cheeks, your gaze steady and sincere as you looked into his eyes.

“but i love the sex, it feels good, slow and gentle,” you confessed softly, a warm smile gracing your lips. your thumb leaving stars on his blushing cheeks, “i love feeling your skin on mine. it's different from the sex we used to have. just you and me, no suguru, just us. it’s such a nice feeling.”

gojo’s expression softened as he looked into your eyes, his own filling with tenderness. he reached up to hold your hands, keeping them against his cheeks. “yeah, it is,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “it’s different, more intimate, more...real. it’s just us, no distractions, no one else but us. and i love it too. love feeling you close, feeling our bodies touch, feeling completely connected to you.“

he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching yours. “being with you like this, it’s like coming home.”

he paused for a moment, taking in the feel of your skin against his, the warmth of your touch. “you know, this is my favorite part,” he confessed quietly.

he shifted his position slightly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you even closer. “after we finish, just lying here, holding you, feeling your skin on mine. it’s like...i don’t know, like being in another world or something.” he traced gentle circles on your skin with his fingertips, his touch light and comforting.

you hummed softly, still smiling at his words. “i feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice warm. “it's not that i don't enjoy our time together as three, because i really do. but sometimes, having a moment just with one of you feels completely different.”

you paused, glancing at him mischievously, decided to ruin the moment, “but, you know, i can't wait for you to go on a mission so i can have more time like this with suguru.”

spending time with one of them feels uniquely special compared to the moments you share as a trio. when it’s just the two of you, there’s an intimacy that wraps around you like a warm blanket—every shared glance and touch deepens your connection in ways that sometimes get lost in the dynamic of three. it’s in those quiet moments, just you and him, where you can truly let your guard down and fully be yourselves.

it’s not that you don’t enjoy the moments with all three of you; they’re filled with laughter, camaraderie, and shared adventures. but there’s something profoundly satisfying about having one-on-one time. you can dive into deeper conversations, explore vulnerabilities, and create an atmosphere where you both feel entirely seen and cherished.

you know they understand this need for balance, too, even without words. the subtle way they look at you when it’s just the two of you speaks volumes, a silent acknowledgment of this shared desire for deeper connection. it's these moments that make your bond stronger, allowing each of you to appreciate the unique qualities the other brings to the relationship.

gojo chuckled at your playful remark about suguru, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“oh, so that’s how it is, eh?” he retorted, feigning mock offense. “you’re eager to kick me out on a mission so you can have more alone time with my dearest friend.” he squeezed your hips possessively, his grip firm and possessive. “maybe i’ll deliberately drag my feet on my next assignment then.”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered in a low, teasing tone. “can’t have you spending too much quality time with suguru, now can i? i need to maintain my status as the favorite, after all.” he nibbled at your earlobe gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “i can’t have him stealing your heart, sweetheart. i’ll have to make sure you don’t forget about me.“

you let out a soft laugh, feigning a dramatic gasp as you pulled back slightly to look into gojo’s eyes. “oh please, suguru already stole my heart ages ago,” you teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“but don’t worry,” you added with a wink, “there’s plenty of room for two favorites. besides, you know my heart has a soft spot just for you, too.” you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling away, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “but you’ll have to work a little harder to keep that title, won’t you?”

gojo chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of playful challenge and affection. he wrapped his arms more firmly around your waist, pulling you against him.

“oh, i know you’re just trying to rile me up, you little tease,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of mock annoyance. “but i’m not gonna let suguru steal you away that easily. you’re mine, remember?” he tilted your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline, his blue eyes holding yours captured. “i’ll do whatever it takes to keep that title, you bet your sweet ass i will.”

“oh you do, do you?”

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “oh, absolutely,” he confirmed, his voice laced with confidence. “i’ll show you just how serious i am about keeping my title, my little sweet heart.”

he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. “i’ll work extra hard to make sure you never even think about suguru while we’re together. all your attention will be on me, and me alone. you won’t even have a chance to miss him.”

gojo’s hands roamed over your skin, his touch possessive as he pulled you even closer, their bodies touching just about everywhere.

“i’ll make sure you'l’re so enthralled by me, so completely captivated, that you won’t even remember what your dear other boyfriend looks like,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against your ear. “you’ll be too busy relishing in the feeling of my touch, the sound of my voice, the heat of my body.”

[lovieku]

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: based on this ask, small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

────୨ৎ────

Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ��60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”

[onlythebravest]

.

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[rbfclassy]

YOU'RE SUCH A PERV! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...pervy acts that the jjk men do

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, nanami, geto) x fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, spying on you, taking pictures/videos of you, groping you, not proofread

INFO...likes and reblogs are appreciated

GOJO

gojo loves to steal your panties and use them to jerk off whenever you’re not home or busy with work in another room. The way he got fixated on this was by accident, seeing your lace panties lying on the bed because you forgot to fold them from the clean laundry and gojo, for some reason, immediately got hard. He didn’t care if they were used or not, but just the thought that they’ve been on you, snug against your pussy. Before he knew it, he was using your underwear to help jerk off and boy did he cum a lot. He was left shaking, panting and bewildered by what he just did. It became addicting, and now he steals your panties to jerk off. “Satoru, have you seen my pink lace underwear?” You ask. “Mmm, no. Maybe they’re in the wash?” He shrugs. Little do you know he has them stuffed in his pocket for later.

TOJI

this man is big on physical affection when it comes to you. Previously, he would hate being crowded and clingy with his partner, but something about you changed that in him. Toji is big on groping you and I’m talking like eyeing you down like a piece of cake, thinking of all the nasty things he could do to you before his big rough hands are reaching out to grab your titties. His thumbs rub over your hardened nipples with a smug smile on his face. Sometimes he’ll scoot by you, hand on your waist before saying, “scuse me, baby.” Pushing his entire bulge against your ass. All you do is look at him with narrowed eyes while he chuckles. When you’re lying down he likes smacking and grabbing your ass. At this point it’s muscle memory for him. But sometimes he ends up getting horny, and he’ll pull his cock out and start jerking off right there in front of you, still groping your body. “Toji, what are you doing?!” Your brows furrow. “Shhh, just keep watching the movie, sweetheart.”

GETO

this man is so pervy like big time perv. He will record you and take pictures of you anywhere he sees fit. Sneaking a picture of your ass in the dress you’re wearing. Taking videos of you while you’re changing. Sometimes he’ll zoom in your lips while you’re doing your makeup so he can jerk off to it later. He has a whole folder dedicated to you. When y’all are having sex, of course geto has to be the photographer he is. “Lift your skirt up for me.” He snaps a picture of you bent over the bed, the skirt barely covering your ass. Whenever you give him head, he’ll make it a priority to cum on your face so he can take pictures of you smiling. Isn’t he the best? Also, he for sure records you while you’re taking a shower, even if the steam is fogging up the glass, he can still see the outline of your naked body and that’s enough for him. “We should make a movie. What d’ya say, princess?”

NANAMI

as sweet as nanami is, I feel like he would be the type to spy on you and secretly listen to you if you’re ever playing with yourself. He can’t tell if you do it on purpose or what because each time he comes home, the bedroom door is cracked and you’re fucking yourself with the toy he bought you. As we watches you from the dark, he loosens the tie around his neck as he hold back the urge to bust into the room and fuck you senseless, but he gets a sense of adrenaline watching you silently, seeing you lose yourself as you call out his name. He palms himself through his slacks before he finally can’t resist it anymore and starts jerking off to you, following your movements. He knows it’s wrong to do it, he feels like such a creep, but goddamn does he love how it feels, the rush is gives him. “There you go baby, cum for me,” he whispers as his eyes intensely watch how your legs shake.

repost from my old account