#INHALES AND SCREAMS SO LOUD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fvsm4x · 3 months ago

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Manwhore Roommate - gojo s.

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

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

+ wc. 9 k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the pipe burst.

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

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

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

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

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

At first, you thought it was a joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How messy are we talking?”

“…You’ll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” you muttered,

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

You stepped inside and stopped in your tracks.

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

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

You blinked. “What…is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But at least it was a roof over your head.

For now, that was enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clean floors,” you deadpanned.

“Touché.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His laughter followed you all the way to your room.

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

But oh. How wrong you were.

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

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

Then you saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Someone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the real noise began.

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

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

No. No, no, no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for today,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Next time?” you snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo,” you warned, your voice clipped.

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

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

“Oh, it is my business,” he said, following you like an oversized shadow. “If you’re going on a date, I have a responsibility as your roommate to make sure this guy’s good enough for you. Do I need to give him the talk?”

You snorted, pulling on your shoes. “The talk? What are you, my dad?”

“Worse,” he said smugly, leaning casually against the wall near the door. “I’m your roommate. I see all the little things he doesn’t. Like the fact that you leave your underwear all over your room—”

You glared at him, your cheeks flushing,“Wh— were you in my room, you pervert?!“

He smirked, but you quickly turned around and grabbed your bag, not letting him ruin your mood. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his grin turning sly.

“Wait—,” he started, his tone light but laced with something almost mischievous, “if you are going on a date, you know the rules, right?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “There are no rules because it’s none of your business.”

“Wrong,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, his grin widening. “Rule number one: if the guy so much as breathes wrong, I’m allowed to deck him.”

“Gojo—”

“Rule number two,” he continued, holding up two fingers as if this were a serious negotiation, “if he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Fix it? What, with chips and bad jokes?”

His grin turned downright devilish, and he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not exactly what I meant, sweetheart. But if you know what I mean�� well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Your face burned instantly, and you glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. “You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, I’m just offering my services,” he said, backing up with a mock-innocent shrug. “I’m a giver like that.”

You threw your bag over your shoulder and turned toward the door. “Thanks, but I’ll take my chances with the real world.”

His laughter followed you, low and teasing, as you pulled the door open.

“Don’t come crying to me when the real world disappoints you!” he called after you. “But seriously—don’t let him screw this up. He’s lucky to have your attention, even if it’s temporary.”

For a moment, you faltered, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity buried in his words. You glanced back at him, but the cocky grin was already back in place.

“Goodnight, Gojo,” you said, stepping out and shutting the door behind you.

As you walked away, his last comment replayed in your mind, a mix of genuine care and infuriating arrogance. You hated how easily he got under your skin. And worse, you hated that part of you couldn’t quite stop thinking about it.

The date had started out decently enough. He’d been polite when he picked the restaurant, complimented your outfit, and pulled your chair out for you when you arrived. For a brief moment, you thought this might actually turn out okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get through the evening without regretting every decision that led you there.

But it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show.

He started checking his phone a few minutes into the conversation. At first, it was subtle—a quick glance here, a soft buzz there. You told yourself it was probably work, something urgent that couldn’t wait. But as the evening progressed, it became increasingly obvious that it wasn’t. His chuckles at the screen, the way he tilted it away from your line of sight—it all screamed disinterest.

Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t realize how much it bothered you.

But then came the comments.

“You don’t seem like the type to like action movies,” he said, after you mentioned your favorite film. His tone wasn’t curious or surprised—it was dismissive, like he already had you pegged as someone who wouldn’t understand explosions and car chases.

“Wow,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “What type do I seem like?”

He shrugged, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Rom-coms? Something light and fluffy.”

You bit back the urge to roll your eyes. “Right. Because girls only like light and fluffy things.”

He laughed, completely missing the edge in your voice. “Hey, I didn’t say that. But, you know, it’s not a bad thing. It’s cute.”

By the time dessert arrived, you’d had enough. His phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t bother hiding your irritation.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked, your tone sharper than intended.

He glanced up, finally noticing your expression, and smiled sheepishly. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just some friends in a group chat. You know how it is.”

“Right,” you said flatly, setting your fork down. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your important group chat.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely confused, like he couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. But then his confidence kicked in, and he leaned forward with a smug grin.

“Come on,” he said, his tone dripping with self-assurance. “You have to admit, I’m a pretty great catch. You’re lucky I’m even single.”

You blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of his words. “Lucky?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, how often do you meet someone like me? Smart, successful, good-looking—”

You stood up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Thanks for dinner,” you said, grabbing your bag. “But I think we’re done here.”

“What?” He gaped at you, his grin finally faltering. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely,” you said, throwing some cash onto the table for your share of the bill. “Good luck with… whatever this is.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel and walked out, leaving him sitting there, stunned and silent.

By the time you got back to the apartment, your irritation had morphed into something else—a mix of regret, exhaustion, and the dull buzz of the wine you’d downed at dinner. You’d stopped at a bar on the way home, hoping to wash the memory of the date away, but all it had done was make your head spin.

You fumbled with your keys at the door, muttering under your breath about arrogant men and wasted evenings. When you finally managed to unlock it, you stumbled inside, kicking off your heels with a groan.

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV illuminating Gojo, who was sprawled on the couch in his usual carefree manner. A bowl of popcorn sat in his lap, and he turned his head at the sound of the door opening.

“Well, well,” he said, sitting up slightly and smirking at your disheveled state. “Look who’s back. And drunk, no less.”

You glared at him, wobbling slightly as you made your way to the kitchen. “Not now, Gojo.”

“Oh, I think now is exactly the time,” he said, following you with a smirk. “Let me guess—date didn’t go so well?”

You grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and drinking deeply before slamming it onto the counter. “You could say that.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that infuriating grin of his. “What happened? Did he turn out to be a secret serial killer? Or worse—a guy who calls movies ‘content’?”

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing another glass of water. “Worse. He thought he was God’s gift to women.”

Gojo let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Ouch. Tough break, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you muttered, brushing past him toward your room.

He caught your arm gently, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, his usual teasing tone replaced with something almost genuine. “I’m not pitying you. Just saying you deserve better.”

You looked up at him, your vision slightly blurry, whether from the alcohol or the sincerity in his words.

“I know I do,” you said quietly. “But it’s not like guys like that are exactly rare.”

He frowned, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. “Then maybe stop wasting your time on losers who don’t know what they’ve got.”

You snorted, pulling your arm free, as you entered your room. “Oh, right, because the perfect guy is just going to fall into my lap?”

Gojo grinned at your sarcastic remark, that infuriating spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. Before you could process what was happening, he moved quickly, closing the distance between you in a couple of long strides.

“Gojo, what the—”

Without warning, he gave you a gentle push, and your knees buckled, sending you backward onto your bed. You landed with a soft bounce, your protest cut short as he followed, dropping down beside you in one smooth motion.

But instead of stopping there, he shifted lower, placing his head directly in your lap. His face nestled against your thighs, his hair brushing against the soft fabric of your dress.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Gojo!”

He tilted his head to look up at you, his grin widening as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “What? You said you were waiting for the perfect guy to fall into your lap. Here I am.”

You stared at him, half in disbelief and half in a panic at the heat creeping up your neck. “Get off me!”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he made himself more comfortable, his arms casually draping across your waist like he belonged there. “Why? Your thighs are pretty nice. You’re comfortable, and I’m saving you from wasting time on all those losers out there.”

Your hands hovered uselessly in the air, unsure whether to shove him off or cover your face to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re insane,” you finally managed, trying to ignore the way his breath tickled your skin.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, almost teasing, as his head shifted slightly against your lap.

Before you could snap back, he turned further into your thighs, the movement deliberate, nuzzling deeper as though testing just how far he could push you. Your breath hitched, caught between outrage and something you didn’t want to name.

It wasn’t until you felt the warmth of his breath, hot and steady, against the thin barrier of your panties that you froze completely. The realization hit like a jolt—your dress had ridden up when he pushed you onto the bed, leaving the bare skin of your thighs pressed against his face.

“Gojo,” you said, your voice coming out sharper than intended.

He didn’t immediately move, his lips quirking in a way that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. There was an unmistakable smugness in the way he exhaled, a low hum vibrating against your skin.

“You smell nice,” he remarked lazily, his words sending a shockwave of mortification through you.

Heat flooded your face “You’re disgusting!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. You should be flattered.”

Before you could fire back, he leaned in again, catching you completely off guard. His tongue dragged a slow, deliberate line up the fabric of your panties, the warmth and pressure sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as your hand shot out, fingers tangling in his hair. You yanked, forcing him to pull back slightly. “Gojo—what are you doing?” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning hot enough to rival the sun.

His eyes locked onto yours, half-lidded and teasing, as his hands rested firmly on either side of your thighs. “Satoru,” he corrected, his voice low and smooth. “Call me Satoru.”

You couldn’t tell if it was his tone or the way he said it, but something about the moment sent your thoughts scattering. His gaze, piercing and unrelenting, didn’t waver as you tried to form a coherent response.

“Satoru,” you repeated, the name slipping out more out of shock than agreement.

He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating through him and straight into you. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” His grin softened, still playful but laced with something heavier, something you couldn’t quite place. The weight of his gaze was nearly unbearable.

“What are you doing—?” you asked again, your voice catching in your throat. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for any hint that he was joking, that this was just another one of his games.

Instead, his expression softened further, the teasing edge of his smirk shifting into something far more deliberate. “Remember what I said before you went out?”

You frowned, confused and thrown off balance, but before you could respond, he reached up. His hand closed over yours where it was still tangled in his hair, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pried your fingers free. You let him guide your hand down, watching in stunned silence as he brought it to his lips.

The kiss he pressed to your knuckles was warm, lingering, and shockingly intimate. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as his lips brushed against your skin.

“‘If he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it,’” he murmured, his tone lower now, almost a whisper, like the words were meant for you alone.

His eyes stayed on yours, and for once, they weren’t filled with amusement or mockery. There was something raw there, something that made your stomach twist painfully, though whether it was from unease or… something else, you couldn’t say.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your voice caught in your throat. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your head felt too foggy, too clouded with alcohol and the heat of his touch.

“So…” he said after a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand, tracing absent patterns into your skin. “What do you say? Will you let me fix your heartbreak?”

His smile returned, slow and deliberate, but it wasn’t as infuriating as before. This one was softer, almost tender, though it still carried that maddening confidence that was so inherently him.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air growing heavier with every passing second. You felt his free hand move, his palm sliding to rest against your thigh. His touch was steady, the warmth of it searing through your skin.

You knew you should say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was spinning, and it felt like all the blood in your body had rushed to your face. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to break whatever spell he was weaving.

And yet, before you even realized what you were doing, you nodded. It was subtle, hesitant, but unmistakable.

His smile widened, a glimmer of triumph flashing in his eyes. “Good answer,” he said softly, his hand squeezing your thigh just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallowed hard, your breathing uneven as he leaned in closer, his face still pressed near your lap, his thumb still tracing lazy circles into your skin. Your thoughts felt muddled, trapped somewhere between disbelief and the hazy warmth spreading through your body.

Somewhere deep down, a small part of you screamed to stop this, to regain control of the situation. But in that moment, with the alcohol clouding your judgment and his touch grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain, you didn’t move.

You barely had time to register what was happening before his hands found your shoulders, gently pushing your upper body back against the mattress. The soft give of the bed beneath you made it impossible to resist as he shifted your position, leaving you staring up at the ceiling.

His movements were deliberate, slow enough to let you protest if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You felt the brush of his hands against your thighs, warm and confident as he worked your dress higher, inch by inch, until it bunched at your waist. The cool air hitting your skin made you shiver, and you became acutely aware of just how exposed you were.

Your damp panties were now on full display, the fabric clinging to you in a way that made heat bloom across your face. A small voice in your head begged you to snap out of it, to push him away and demand he stop. But the alcohol’s haze dulled that voice into a faint whisper.

The you from a week ago would be screaming at you right now. She’d call you an idiot for letting this happen, for giving him this satisfaction. You knew Gojo—he’d never let you live this down. Tomorrow, he’d smirk and tease, and you’d be left trying to figure out why you hadn’t stopped him.

But none of that mattered right now. You were too drunk, too tired, too overwhelmed to care.

Just this once, you thought. You’d let him have this one, even if you knew it was a terrible idea.

His fingers slid over the damp fabric of your panties, his touch cold enough to make you shiver but firm enough to send a spark of something foreign racing through you. He pressed his palm against the growing wet patch, massaging gently, as if testing your reaction.

“So wet,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. His thumb brushed over the edge of the fabric, dangerously close to your bare skin.

Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his words hung in the air, taunting you with their boldness.

You should have stopped him. You knew you should have. But instead, your body betrayed you, your hips shifting just slightly into his touch. It was all the encouragement he needed.

a/n: get cockblocked loser ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo #geto suguru #gojo smut #gojou x reader #satoru x reader

2K notes · View notes

yoitsjay · 4 months ago

Note

Just curious if you could do this, but-

Pegging batboys headcanons? PLEASE???

I would literally sacrifice my first born for you if you make this happen.

*Twirls hair* Ily, bye!!

😘

I screamed (the s is silent)

"Can I shove my fake, thick cock in your ass baby? Please? God pleasepleaseplease-"

Pegging the batfam HC:

Bruce Wayne

He'd be unsure at first, I think. He had never been with a woman who not only was desperately horny 24/7 (I see you sluts), but was also kinky as hell.

This was new.

At first he'd say no, the idea was uncomfortable to him and you understood, you thanked him for thinking about it, then gave him a really good blow to soothe it over.

After that... he dived into the research.

It started with articles, about the safety and concerns with pegging, proper handling, and 'etiquette'.

Then he started watching videos when you weren't home, and he was alone.

He watched as men were reduced to nothing but whimpering, pleading messes under the relentless, or sensual assault of their lovers silicone cocks.

He got rock hard.

Then he brought it to you.

And within hours you had playboy billionaire philanthropist, begging and crying on his hands and knees, needing you to stop teasing and prepping and to just fuck him.

How could you say no?

Dick Grayson

"Yes"

It was his immediate answer. And honestly it kind of caught you off guard. You knew dick was a slut, but you didn't know he was this much of a slut.

He let you do all the prep you needed, he bought toys for himself, proper lube, etc, wanting it to be perfect.

When it finally happens you do a little roleplay, then he's yanking down your pants and watching the (surprisingly realistic) silicone spring free from your pants.

He's practically slobbering as he blows you, though you can't feel it, you have a vibrator inside of you for some mutual satisfaction. And he's getting off on the sound of your moans as he hollows his cheeks and pulls off with a lewd pop.

You have him bent over the couch within seconds, biting and sucking at his shoulders and the back of his neck as you pound into that plump ass of his.

He can only cry and beg for more.

Jason Todd

He didn't know what you meant at first.

Yeah he could be kinky but it hadn't been long since he had come back from the dead, he just got used to having you back in his arms, so sex was soft, loving. He didn't want to hurt you.

Then you explained what it was.

And his eyes go wide.

He loves you too much he can't say no.

Again, going through the prep.

Once it's time you slowly push in and his eyes fly wide.

Then he's fisting himself as he buries his face into your pillows, inhaling your scent as he rocks back and forth on the bed, trying to hide his moans, and the way his face flushed, not expecting this to feel so fucking good.

Then you start to hear little grunts, then moans, and he gradually gets louder as he gets closer, and closer.

And when he cums it's explosive, and you've reduced him into a whimpering, begging mess. "One more time- please- please-"

Tim Drake

He brought it up first. And it surprised you. You both sat together, did research, watched videos (and helped each other get off to those videos.)

You went shopping together and brought the proper supplies and asked important questions to forums with a lot more experience. And once you both felt that you were ready, it began.

Tim was loud. Louder than all of them. This little muscly twink was pushing his ass back against you with every thrust, throwing his head back, arching, moving into any position you wanted him in just so he could feel you deeper.

You got off on how loud he was being.

Tim, who was normally so focused, quiet, observant, was blissfully fucked out of his mind, drooling, crying out your name as he grasped and tugged on your arms, hair, hips, anything he could get his hands on...

He'd die happy like this, speared on your cock.

Damian Wayne

"No fucking way"

He wouldn't even let you explain what it was. At first he kind of kink shamed you, and you won't lie, it stung.

He noticed you went quiet after that, even when he made love to you, your moans were quieter, almost entirely just grunts or soft sighs, like he wasn't making you as aroused as he used too.

He apologized, figuring out quickly that it was the way he shut down your words so quickly. All you asked was for him to just research.

And research he did.

He was still unsure, but eventually you managed to talk him into it.

He couldn't deny by the end that he thought it was definitely diffrent... fun in a way.

You both agreed it wouldn't happen all the time, only when you really needed to add some spice to the bedroom, or when he found himself begging for it.

Now that boosted your ego.

And when he was under you? He was a lot like Jason, moaning, hiding his face in embrarssment, fisting himself to every thrust, his orgasm coming so fast his mind went blank.

Safe to say, the batboys love that thick silicone cock of yours.

Slut.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

BW smut:

DG smut:

JT smut:

TD smut:

DW (aged up) smut:

1K notes · View notes

taesjpq · 13 days ago

Text

Jealousy part. II

genre — best friends to lovers, fluff, smut MDNI!! pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — read part 1 hehe, this is pure smut (with plot) word count — 8,7k (part II)

I highly recommend reading part 1, first, or this probably won’t make much sense.

Warnings and notes under the line.

Notes: mention of san (ateez) and sangyeon (theboyz)

Well… it’s finally here!! it’s been a while, so even if you’ve already read part 1, I recommend giving it another read before diving in – this picks up right where it left off. Enjoy, and please scream & shout at me about how you liked it!! it’s my first time writing smut, so be kind (but also honest hehe) ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, switch!mingyu (CAUSE I KNOW HE IS), switch!reader, needy mingyu (yes that’s a warning), semi-public situations (they're not getting caught at all), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), consent emphasized, breast play, dirty talk, edging, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that!!), cockwarming, aftercare implied, excessive use of “fuck” and “shit” (because i can’t stop it)

21:12

"Woah."

Hoshi and Wonwoo storm inside, the door swinging shut behind them. "I almost turned into a damn tree waiting out there. Thought you guys were pretending not to be here."

There’s a pause. His eyes flicker around the room—searching.

"For whatever reason," he adds, dragging out the words before shooting Wonwoo a look, wiggling his brows. Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, balancing bottles in both hands.

Usually, Mingyu would roll his eyes, maybe even smack Hoshi for a dumb comment like that. But right now? His mind is too hazy, too full—still tangled up in you.

The second you hear their voices, you go.

Straight to the bathroom. Fast enough to escape, slow enough not to raise suspicion. The door clicks shut behind you, just shy of a slam.

Your hands grip the sink. Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed, cheeks burning, lips—fuck.

You look wrecked.

Your hair is a mess from where Mingyu had leaned too close, your lips are swollen from nothing but a brush, and your skin still tingles where his breath had been.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Inhale deep. Try to steady yourself.

Because they’re out there. He is out there. And you need to act normal.

So you force it all down, splash cold water on your face, and when you step out of the bathroom, you do what you do best.

You pretend.

"Why the hell wouldn’t you guys pick up my call? I was going crazy. Do you know how much I paid yesterday for your shit?"

Hoshi sprawls out on the couch, his voice loud and dramatic, while Wonwoo sets the snacks and bottles down on the table.

That’s how Hoshi expresses his worry—through complaints, through exaggerated frustration that’s half real, half just him being Hoshi. Usually, Mingyu would respond. Would roll his eyes, laugh, tease him back.

But right now?

Mingyu isn’t listening.

He can’t listen.

He sinks onto the couch, still lightheaded. Still caught up in the last few minutes.

Hoshi is talking—something about the night, something Mingyu should probably respond to—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s still in the kitchen. Still pressed against you. Still feeling the ghost of your lips brushing his. His whole body is tense, his skin too warm, his jeans way too fucking tight.

He shifts uncomfortably, subtly adjusting himself before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap. He tries—really, really tries—to focus on Hoshi. To nod at the right moments. To act normal. But all he can think about is how soft your lips felt, how you looked at him. The way your lips parted just slightly, like you were going to—

"So tell me, what did you guys do today?"

Fuck.

Mingyu freezes.

What—what is he supposed to say? That you guys—? No. No fucking way.

His stomach tightens. His jeans—shit—feel impossibly tighter. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him. He wasn’t even drunk, but it was too hot in here. Too much. Too you.

"Umm…" he mutters, fingers pressing to his temple, trying to come up with something—anything—normal to say.

"Nothing much," you say, stepping into the living room. Too casual. Too even. "Just ate, watched something. Pretty chill."

Hoshi hums, unconvinced.

And Mingyu—Mingyu forgets how to breathe.

His eyes drag over you—your face, your lips. Your legs, where he was between them just minutes ago.

Shit.

His grip tightens on the pillow.

"Yeah, of course," Hoshi says, voice laced with suspicion. But thankfully, he shrugs it off, already moving on to another topic. The conversation shifts, flows into something else.

But Mingyu doesn’t.

He stays still. Because you don’t look at him. Not once.

Since the second you walked into the room, since the moment you spoke, you haven’t spared him a single glance.

And fuck, that does something to him.

Fingers clenched. Jaw locked. Heart pounding.

Because this isn’t over.

Because no matter how much you pretend—

No matter how steady your voice is, how carefully you avoid his gaze—

He knows.

He knows now.

22:12

"Well, I was supposed to go out with the other guys tonight, but of course, you guys come first," Hoshi announces dramatically, stretching across the couch.

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his phone. "Why are you lying? You were the one who insisted on coming here and dragged me along."

Hoshi huffs and lightly smacks Wonwoo’s arm. "Shh, be quiet."

But then, as if the thought just occurred to him, Hoshi perks up. "Actually… now that I think about it, I could've brought them along. They’re pretty cool."

He pauses for effect, then smirks. "Especially Sangyeon."

There’s something in his tone—something teasing—that immediately puts you on edge.

"You know what?" He grins. "I should introduce him to you. He might be your type."

Your head snaps up.

And so does Mingyu’s.

The air shifts in an instant.

“I—uh, I’m actually pretty picky, so don’t bother.”

“Come on, it can’t be that complicated. What is your type, anyway?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think—your gaze flickers to Mingyu.

Shit.

You regret it immediately. The moment is too fast, too obvious. Wonwoo catches it instantly, his sharp eyes reading your expression like an open book.

"Just leave her alone with your nonsense," Wonwoo says, his voice even, unimpressed. "Maybe worry about finding your own girlfriend first."

Hoshi gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Hey! I’m trying to help! It’s been years since she’s had a boyfriend!"

Your stomach tightens. You can’t sit here any longer.

Mingyu doesn’t look away. He just watches.

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, you need to get out of here. Now.

You force out a laugh, pushing yourself to your feet. "I think it’s time for more drinks."

"Want some help with that?” Wonwoo asks, still half-distracted by his phone.

"No!" It comes out too fast, too desperate. You cringe at yourself but don’t stop.

You don’t wait for a response—you just go.

The moment you step into the kitchen, you exhale sharply, setting the glasses down and gripping the counter.

Just breathe. In and ou—

“Need help?”

His voice.

Casual. Too casual.

He’s there—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulders broad, completely unbothered.Taking up too much space.

An annoyed smile tugs at your lips. Why can’t he just leave you alone?

“I thought I was being clear,” you mutter, staring ahead.

A slow, knowing hum. Amused. Mocking . “I’m just being nice. Like always.”

And he’s enjoying this—teasing you like this.

You shake your head, you shift, pulling open the fridge. “Good. Then don’t be like always.”

Mingyu straightens, uncrossing his arms, a soft chuckle.

You grab a couple of bottles, setting them on the counter before reaching for the glasses in the cabinet.

He doesn’t move. Just staying there at the door frame. Watching you.

“Yeah? And how exactly do you want me then?”

Your grip tightens around the glass.

Mingyu. You little shit.

You inhale, forcing yourself to keep your back to him. “I need you to be quiet. Just quiet.”

“Oh, I can do that,” he murmurs, voice lower, rougher.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. You don’t even turn around. Instead, you keep your gaze on the glasses in your hands—like that’s all you came here for.

“I think you know how.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward him like it’s nothing.

“If you’re done, here, make yourself useful.”

His smirk deepens. You’re trying so hard to act unaffected, but he sees it—the way your fingers tremble slightly, the way your breath catches.

Mingyu tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. “I thought you didn’t want my help?”

You shoot him a glare. You scowl. Why does he have to be so goddamn annoying?

And worse—why does he have to look this good while doing it?

But before you can fire back—

Your phone rings.

You glance down at your pocket, hands too full to reach for it. You sigh, shifting everything toward Mingyu.

He looks at you. A beat of silence. And just when you think he’s going to take the bottles—

His hand moves.

Not for the drinks.

For your phone.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

His fingers brush against your waist as he lifts the hem of your shirt—just slightly.

His fingers curl around your phone. He pulls it out, his gaze flickers down to the screen.

San.

The name rolls off his tongue. He’s heard it before, here and there. Was it someone from work?

His eyes flick back up to yours, searching. “This late?”

You swallow. “Give it back.”

You step forward, but he doesn’t move.

His grip tightens around your phone. He should just hand it over. He should step back.

Instead, the words slip out—low, unfiltered.

“Why is he calling?”

You blink.

Shit. It wasn’t a question he meant to ask. It wasn’t something he even thought about saying. It just fell out of him.

“What?”

The call ends. Silence.

Mingyu doesn’t answer the question. Neither do you.

Before you can figure out what's happening, he smiles. But not just any smile.That slow, knowing, devastating kind.

And then—He puts it back, back into your pocket.

Ding.

A message.

He tilts his head.

Ding. Ding.

“Must be important.”

Another message.

“You close?”

His voice dips lower.

You open your mouth, but before you can answer—

“How close?”

Something shifts.

The teasing is gone.

He sees the realization flicker across your face. You notice it now—the difference.

No smirking. No amusement.

Just—

Jealousy.

Your lips twitch.

This is fun.

Your turn now.

“This close,” you murmur, taking a few steps back.

His brows furrow slightly.

“Or this close?”

You step forward again.

His fingers flex. His jaw tightens.

Now he gets it.

Now you’re right in front of him. So close, almost touching.

“Or maybe… this close?”

So close you feel his breath. The way his chest rises. The way his hand twitches at his side.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips. Then back up.

His breath stutters.

Your voice drops, barely above a whisper.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Mingyu moves before he can think.

His hand grips your waist. Your back. Pulling you into him.

His body is so warm. So solid.

And then—

“I doubt you two are this close.” He leans in. Just slightly.

His breath ghosts over your lips, his fingers flexing against your waist.

The cold of the drinks and glasses in your hands presses against his chest, against his stomach—a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. It makes his breath hitch. You can feel it, the bottles and glasses pressing against your breasts, and you wonder what it would have been like if they weren't there.

“You didn’t even think about checking his messages,” he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. And then—lower—right against your ear—

“I have you right where I want you.”

A sharp inhale.

“YAAA!!”

Hoshi’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you break eye contact.

“MY DRINKS!! WHERE ARE MY DRINKS!!”

Mingyu should step back. He should let go.

He watches the way your chest rises. The way your lips part. The way your fingers tremble, just slightly, against his arm. He could end it right here. Close the space. Kiss you senseless.

He wants to. God, he wants to.

But the voices in the living room—too close.

He doesn’t know how it would end. Doesn’t know what you’d do. What he might do. Not when his pulse is this loud, not when you’re looking at him like you already know.

Not now, he thinks.

Because if he moves even an inch closer— He’ll do something stupid.

Right then where you think he would lean in —again

he takes the bottles and glasses from your hands.

Turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Leaving you standing there, heart racing.

Mingyu—smirking to himself.

He chooses restraint. For now.

00:34

Your night plays out like it always does.

Mario Kart on the Switch, followed by rounds of drinking games, laughter bubbling up with every sip, the room alive with energy. It’s become routine—getting tipsy with the guys, letting the evening slip into a blur of noise and warmth. But tonight, something’s different. Your mind isn’t on the game; it’s on him.

Mingyu.

You’re counting down the minutes until this all ends, until you can finally be alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“Okay, last round, Hoshi,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yes! Yes!” Hoshi hurls himself into the couch, already grabbing his drink before the race even starts. Predictably, he loses again.

You don’t even flinch, too distracted by the way Mingyu leans back against the couch, his eyes casually glancing at the screen but his attention fully on you. He’s sitting there, relaxed—his messy hair falling perfectly in a way that makes you want to reach out and fix it, even though you know he’d just mess it up again.

His black t-shirt is slightly stretched from his movement, and as he shifts to grab another drink, you catch a glimpse of the chain hanging loosely around his neck. It glints in the dim light, you gaze down to the sharp line of his jaw to his exposed collarbones.

You try to look away, but every movement he makes seems deliberate, as if he's doing it on purpose.

“PLEASE! LAST ROUND, PLEASE!!” Hoshi’s voice rings out, exaggerated and dramatic, dragging you back into the room. Mingyu chuckles, his lips curling into that effortless smirk.

“Alright, let him have another round,” he says, voice deep and calm, a little too calm, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second.

It’s enough.

Your heart stutters. You’re hyper-aware of everything. He rolls his sleeves up, just slightly, as he takes another drink. The biceps of his arm flex as he lifts his glass, you can see the veins along his forearm. It’s suddenly so warm in here and you can feel the way it pulls you closer even though you haven’t moved an inch.

He doesn't need to try. He just is.

He knows it, too.

“YAAA!! THIS CAN’T BE!!” Hoshi wails, the chaos pulling you out of the moment. His controller crashes to the floor in exaggerated despair.

You sigh, laughing despite yourself, the sound escaping your lips like a small release. For a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been thickening the air all night finally breaks, but it lingers—just out of reach. Your eyes flicker to Mingyu, and in that instant, you catch him. Staring at you. Not just a glance, but a look that lingers.

He’s watching you, watching the way you sit there—knees on the floor, bare legs beneath you. But it’s not just the way you’re sitting, it’s the way his shirt clings to your skin, your posture, your eyes, your lips... everything about you seems to pull him in. His thoughts begin to drift, and before he can stop them, his mind’s running down a path he knows he shouldn’t be on.

No, he thinks. Not again.

He drags a hand over his face and thunks his head back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. He exhales slowly, a forced calm. Focus, Mingyu.

He can’t afford another hard-on tonight. Not with everyone around.

But he knows. You both know it.

It’s going to be a long, torturous night after all. And it isn’t ending anytime soon.

02:46

Hours have slipped by, blurred by laughter and the bitter tang of alcohol on your tongue. The room is warm, dimly lit,—half-empty glasses, crumpled snack bags, the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background.

You’re exhausted, but wired. The kind of tired where everything feels a little too slow, a little too heavy.

A soft snore interrupts your thoughts.

You turn your head. Hoshi, sprawled out across the couch, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world.

You blink. "Well. There he goes."

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh across from you, tilting his head toward the couch. "Took him long enough."

"It’s always him," you mutter, shaking your head.

"It was Wonwoo first."

"Wonwoo doesn’t count. He chooses sleep."

Mingyu grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, his dark, tousled hair—slightly messy from the long night—falls over his forehead, the dim light catches the sharp line of his jaw and suddenly, you’re aware that its just the two of you now. The laughter fades, leaving something quieter in its place.

And then it happens.

That look.

Mingyu leans his head back against the couch, watching you in that way that makes your stomach twist. His gaze is dark, unreadable, and smirking. you feel it—lingering too long on your face, dropping to your lips.

He’s fucking smirking at you.

Like you guys didnt kiss each other just hours ago.

Your breath catches. Heat pools in your stomach, climbs up your spine, wraps around your throat until your face burns. It’s impossible to ignore the way your body reacts to him, impossible not to remember the way he felt pressed against you, the way he almost—

No.

You need to move. You need to do something—anything—to break the tension before it swallows you whole.

So you stand up.

Quickly. Too quickly. You busy yourself with the mess on the table, grabbing empty glasses, snack wrappers—anything to keep your hands occupied, your mind distracted. You can still feel his gaze pressing into you, following your every movement like a weight on your skin. So you just move yourself to the kitchen. Yeah, that damn kitchen.

To escape. To escape him.

But of course, he follows you.

You focus on the counter, setting things down with a little too much force. You reach for an empty glass, then hesitate, frowning. Where does this go again? You open a random cabinet. Wrong one. You try another. Wrong again.

Mingyu leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you struggle. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes your fingers itch to touch.

"Need help?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

You find the right cabinet—finally—but as you reach up to place the glass inside, it slips. Not enough to fall, but enough for Mingyu to react.

He leans in slightly, voice lower now. "You seem a little distracted."

You exhale sharply, setting the glass down before you drop it for real. "I’m fine."

He hums, unconvinced.

Silence settles between you. Mingyu doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. Instead, he watches you—closely. His gaze lingers as you slowly place the glass in the cabinet, like he’s studying every movement, every flicker of hesitation. You feel it—his eyes, the weight of his attention pressing into your skin.

"You’re bad at this, you know," he murmurs.

"At what?"

"At pretending."

Your pulse stumbles.

"I’m not pretending," you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be.

He laughs teasingly, not really believing you.

"You’re also bad at drinking games," he teases, his voice low, laced with something deeper. He leans against the counter, too close. "Honestly surprised you’re still standing."

You roll your eyes, feigning confidence. "It takes a lot to get me down." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin. "I’m not even that drunk, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

He steps closer.

No. Please, no.

You almost whine.

Not again. Not when you’re still weak from earlier. Not when you still feel the ghost of his breath on your skin, the way he nearly kissed you, the way he almost had you.

You swallow hard, nodding—but it’s weak, almost shaky. And he notices.

"So, you weren’t really that drunk yesterday? Was all of that just an act?"

His skin glows under the kitchen light, sweat dampening his forehead, his neck. His lips are pinker than before, and when he tilts his head slightly, your knees almost give in.

“I dont know what you mean- I-" Your voice falters, and you curse yourself for how obvious it is. He's always been able to read you, hasn't he?

He smirks. But he knows it all too well. Without touching you, he moves. His presence alone pulls you backward, guiding your body against the counter. You find yourself pressed against the edge, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn't touch you, but it feels as if he’s controlling every inch of your movement.

Finally, his gaze softens, but the intensity remains. He reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, the touch light but electric, sending a shiver through you. “Your cheeks are giving you away,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. “Mingyu, stop.” you whisper, as you push against his chest, it causes him to step back, just a little. His arm wraps around yours, pulling you right back into him. The movement is fast, and before you can fully react, you’re pressed against him—your chest against his, your breath shallow as you’re forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

He exhales, voice deep, teasing, but his eyes betray him. "Why? you’re not gonna ask me to stay this time? Not gonna ask me to sleep with you?"

"I don’t even remember what I—"

"But I do."

He doesn’t let you go.

He leans in, hand ghosting along your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize it. His warmth seeps into your skin, into your bones, unraveling something inside you.

“You were looking at me like this,” he murmurs, forehead resting lightly against yours. “Exactly like this.”

You can feel every word against your skin. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“Mingyu, I—”

“You held me here.” He traces your hand over his chest, down his abs, his touch slow, deliberate. “You asked me to stay, told me not to leave”, a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers that moment. “Shit, I thought you were fucking with me.”

Your throat goes dry, a tightness spreading through you as his nose brushes against yours.

“You said please,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. He slowly pushes you against the counter.

“Say it again" he whispers, the word coming out like a plea, thick with want, yearning—almost as if he's asking to kiss you.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s barely a sound—more breath than voice—but it carries everything. A plea. A need. Like he’s not just asking for a kiss, but for permission to fall apart in your hands.

Your chest tightens. Your fingers move before your thoughts can catch up, curling around the back of his neck, drawing him in even though you’re already impossibly close.

His breath hitches at the movement, eyes locking with yours. And there, in the quiet space between heartbeats, he knows.

Then he kisses you.

Soft at first. Barely there. It’s slow, careful—his lips brushing yours, like he’s learning the shape of you through every careful pass.

Then again—deeper this time. More sure.

His hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you, steadying you, like he can't pull away even if he wanted to. He hums against your lips, a soft relief, like he's been waiting for this. And he was.

But the moment his mind catches up with the taste of you—he’s lost.

The kiss turns desperate, all softness bleeding into something needier. Like if he stops, even for a second, it might all slip away.

Your hands are everywhere—roaming, exploring. He nudges you gently until your back hits the counter, the edge cool against your spine. Your palms press to the surface behind you, steadying yourself as the bottles shift and clink under your touch.

“Mingyu—”

“No—”,he’s already kissing you again.

Your protest is cut off, swallowed by his mouth, his kiss harder now. Like he’s trying to erase every reason not to.

His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing in, grounding himself in you. His chest brushes yours, heart pounding.

“We should—” he exhales, his voice cracking, his lips barely leaving yours. “We should stop, right?”

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath, brushing against the skin of his stomach. He’s warm, feverish beneath your touch.

“Yeah,” you breathe, lips still brushing his, “they—hmh-they could come in…”

Shit. He knows. He really fucking knows. But he’s too far in. He should stop—he knows that. But how’s he supposed to do that? When you're looking at him like that? He tried to be good. He really did. But with you like this? He’s already too far gone.

“Mmh,” he exhales, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We should stop before...”

But even as he says it, his hands slide down, fingertips grazing your thigh. He looks at you, like he’s checking—like he needs to make sure. And the way you're staring back? He gets his answer.

He lifts your leg onto the counter. The bottles clink next you, sharp and loud in the quiet, like a reminder of where you are but —

“Yes—mmh—we should stop before anyone—”

But then he hums, low and rough, as his hand moves to your chest. Fingers glide up, brushing over your breast, and your breath stutters.

“We should… fuck-” His voice trembles. “Go to sleep.”

He’s trying. God, he’s trying.

But his mind is lost in you. Like he’s clinging to every thread of control he has left.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, breathless. Your hand slides under his shirt again, feeling the way he trembles under your touch.

“I should go to sleep…”, you smile to yourself.

“Yes- We should go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his shirt.

You watch his skin glows golden under the dim lamp, and when he runs a hand through his hair—black strands sticking up in every direction—you almost loose it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but damn.

He takes your hands, places them on his chest, his abs—letting you feel him. And then he kisses you again.

“Shit,” he breathes. “I can’t… I can’t fucking stop.”

You're still on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, even as his hands slide up, cupping your tits, grazing the edge of your bra, his mouth finding your neck.

“Fuck— Mingyu,” you moan, soft but breathless.

“Don’t do that,” he groans. “-Fuck.”

You tug off your shirt, and he just stares for a second.

Out of breath, hair a mess, half-dressed. This—this is what he dreamed about for far too long.

You reach for his belt, pulling him back in.

“We can’t be loud,” you whisper. “Be quiet, Mingyu.”

He smirks like you’ve just dared him. Like being quiet is a challenge.

He kisses you hard, pressing his dick against you—exactly where you want him. You moan into his mouth, hands in his hair, kissing him like this might be the last time. Because maybe it is.

He trails kisses down your neck, then your chest—his mouth warm over your bra, licking and sucking. You feel everything, but it’s not enough. You need more.

“Mingyu, don’t—don’t tease.”

“We can’t be loud, right?” he smirks to himself. You whine in response.

One hand cups your breast while the other runs across his lips, tasting you . You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet every moan that threatens to slip. His hands are so big on you, his mouth so unbelievably good.

You pull him back to your lips, needing to feel him—needing to let those moans escape where only he can hear them.

“More,” you breathe, your hand drifting lower, palming him through his pants.

The alcohol is blurring your filter, but you don’t care. You want him.

Still, he doesn’t give in. Not fully. Not yet.

He kisses you deeper—your lips, your throat—grinding against you like he’s losing control. Like you’re the one driving him insane. He thinks he’s teasing you, but maybe he’s torturing himself just as much.

You dig your nails into his back, kissing along his shoulder. The intimacy of it gives you goosebumps, sets your skin on fire.

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands go to his belt, fingers working it open as your eyes meet his.

“Shit,” he exhales. Mingyu shakes his head “Not here.”

“Not here?” you whisper, almost whining.

His hands find your waist again, sliding lower, between your legs.

His fingers are a little cold, and the touch makes you gasp.

“Mingyu-”

“Spread your legs for me,” he says lowly, never breaking eye contact.

You do.

He moves slowly at first, teasing your clit, eyes locked on every little reaction your face gives away.

Your mouth parts open slightly, breath hitching.

“Hm? That sensitive?” he asks, speeding up just a little.

A soft moan slips from your lips as you grip his arms, trying to steady yourself.

And then his finger slides inside.

Then another.

While his thumb keeps working your clit, making you lose your mind.

“You like seeing my hands between your legs?” he rasps, still watching you.

You can’t even look away—neither of you can.

He kisses you, and you moan right into his mouth.

“You like the way that feels?” he asks. “So wet for me already…”

You try not to, but his names slips out of your mouth.

“Shit. Didn’t we talk about being quiet?”, voice low, watching you all desperate and squirming under his touch.

And you can feel it building—right there, right under his fingers.

“Fuck, yeah. Like this”, he whispers. You’re so close.

His fingers move just right—fast, precise, relentless—and your body can’t take it anymore. It hits you all at once. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as the orgasm rolls through you.

He doesn’t stop until you're done—his fingers slow down, helping you through it, letting you ride it out as your whole body shudders against him.

Then he kisses you—soft, almost sweet, lips warm and slow. You melt into it, dizzy, still catching your breath.

He smiles into the kiss, smug as hell. “You think they heard you?”

You smack his chest, face burning, and he just laughs—loud, unbothered—and gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s nothing.

“Time to sleep,” he says, all casual, like he didn’t just make you fall apart on the kitchen counter.

You’re still dazed, legs weak, not even trying to get up when he picks up your clothes. And just as you’re wondering what now, he lifts you—hands under your thighs and back—carrying you.

You bury your face in his neck, skin still warm, and you can feel him chuckling, chest shaking under your cheek.

He carries you into your room, setting you down on the bed,you lean back on your elbows, chest rising and falling, still hazy from your high—but your eyes are locked on him. The soft light from the hallway hits his skin just right. His abs flex as he moves, still shirtless, just his jeans hanging low on his hips.

You're supposed to be tired. You’re supposed to be done.

But your body says otherwise.

He notices your stare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, almost flustered, but that smirk is back.

“Like you want more. You know I lose control when you do that.”

You lean forward, lips brushing into a small, wicked smile. “Hm, really?”

He curses under his breath.

You shift onto your knees, crawling closer to where he’s standing by the bed, teasing, until you’re eye level with his lips. You watch him closely, deliberately. His eyes darken, flickering down to your mouth.

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters.

“I’m just being like always,” you say, like it’s innocent—but the way you graze your fingers over his belt says otherwise.

He laughs, low and rough. “You’re impossible.”

Then he kisses you, hard, like he’s finally letting go again.

Your hands move lower, reaching for him, cupping him as you finally try to undo his belt. But he gently brushes your hands away, shaking his head.

“Mhh, no,” he says against your lips, voice deep and determined. “I’m not done with you.”

His hand finds your waist, guiding you back down to the bed without breaking the kiss. You sigh into it, helpless under his touch.

Mingyu slips off your bra, he trails kisses down your collarbone, your chest—slow. His mouth lingers on your breasts, lips and tongue teasing. You’re biting back a moan when he lightly sucks on your nipple. His other hand slides lower, down your side, until it reaches your hips. You gasp as his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, watching every flicker of your expression like it’s something he doesn’t want to miss. Like he’s imprinting it in his mind.

Then he kisses lower—over your stomach, your hips your inner thighs. His lips brush every part of you except where you want him most. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and it’s driving you insane.

You breathe in sharply when his mouth finally finds you. His tongue moves in slow, careful circles over your clit, your fingers already tangling in the sheets. He’s gentle at first, like he’s still learning, but his confidence grows fast. And it’s not just skill—it’s the way he pays attention. The way he listens to every sound you make, every breath you take He groans into you, like he needs it just as badly.

You can barely focus. Your thoughts are scattered. All you know is heat. His tongue. That pressure building again, way too fast.

You peek down at him, and the sight almost ruins you. His eyes are half-lidded, completely focused —locked on yours. His brows slightly furrowed like he’s concentrating, feeling you, not just tasting. His grip tightens on your thighs as you move, and he groans against you—fuck, he’s into it.

And in his head? He’s losing it.

This is all he ever wanted.

He’d dreamed about this—too many nights, too many times imagining what you'd sound like, taste like, how you’d fall apart under his mouth. But none of it compares to this—flushed, needy, eyes fluttering, mouth open with every breathy moan. And the way you say his name?

Yeah, he’s gone.

He’s so mad at himself—mad that he waited this long, mad that he let you be so close for so long without touching you like this. But right now? He’s making up for it.

He presses your thighs open wider, groaning at the way you react. His tongue starts to move faster now, rougher, more deliberate. Circling, sucking, teasing. You whimper his name—desperate, breathless—and he loves it. Every moan you try to bite back just makes him go harder.

“Mingyu—fuck—” you breathe, legs trembling under his grip.

And he just hums into you in response, lips curved, like he’s proud of the way you fall apart for him all over again.

He slips a finger inside you, and your back arches, a loud gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. You glance down—his mouth still on you, tongue still moving—and you can see it.

That smug little smile.

You actually want to slap him for it. But God, it feels so good. Too good.

You shove your finger between your lips, biting down hard, because otherwise you'd be moaning his name.

Trying to not wake anyone. But he makes it impossible. His finger curls just right, finding that spot that makes your whole body clench, and then—

A second finger. Thicker. Deeper. You cry out into your arm, hand flying to his hair, gripping hard—more for your sanity than his guidance.

This isn’t what you had in mind when you got drunk last night—but fuck, you’re not complaining.

“Mingyu—I’m going to—”

You can barely get the words out, voice all shaky. He pulls back just a little, breath heavy against your thigh, fingers still pumping into you slow and deep, while looking at you in your eyes.

“Not yet,” he says, voice low, but wrecked. “Just a little longer, please?”

You want to curse at him, cry, beg—but all that comes out is a desperate whine. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut.

You need it.

But he knows that. He wants you right there. He wants to watch you fall apart again—and know it’s him doing it to you.

His fingers speed up, more precise now, like he knows exactly how much you can take. His tongue’s back on you—licking, moaning with you, vibrating against you.

And when he lifts your legs up, resting them on his broad shoulders—you can’t take it anymore.

Your whole body clenches. The heat crashes over you so fast it steals your breath. Your hands still tangled in his hair as he stays with you till wave ends.

He doesn’t let go. He holds you through it, still licking you soft and slow, humming gently like he’s calming you down from a high only he could give.

He smiles to himself, then leans in to kiss you again—slow, deep. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him back. your body’s still buzzing, but God, you're tired.

Eventually, he lets himself drop back onto the bed beside you, one arm flung lazily over his eyes. You're both breathing hard, skin warm and flushed.

“You tired?” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse.

You hum, eyes still closed. “Yes… but no.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to peek at you from under his arm. “What kinda answer is that?”

You giggle softly, brain still foggy. “You?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously drive me insane. I was tense the whole damn day… like some fucking college kid with a crush.”

You smile to yourself. “Oh yeah? You deserved it. You made me wait long enough.”

He lifts his head, resting on his elbows now, eyebrows raised. “I made you wait?Are you kidding? I was trailing after you like a damn dog for months. Everyone saw it. Everyone. Except for— you. They made fun of me. Hoshi even gave me names. He called me a puppy!”

“You didn’t do anything either!” you shoot back. “And it’s not my fault—you’re nice to everyone!”

“Yeah, but…” he pauses, and you can feel something shift in the air between you. You look at him, waiting for ending the sentence.

“I’m only in love with you.”

The words are soft. Steady. No hesitation, no teasing this time. And it hits you. Your heart stutters—you look at him, searching his face, trying to read the truth in his eyes. He meant it. Every word.

Your lips part, but no answer comes. Not yet. Instead, your gaze drops—his chest still rising fast, the muscles of his stomach tense, his jeans still unbuttoned, the bulge beneath his boxers so obvious now.

A slow smile curls on your lips.

“You waited that long?”, drawing the word out, fingers drifting low on his stomach.

He groans, tossing his arm back over his face. “Don’t mock me.”

You lean in. “What did they call you again?” Your hand cups him through his boxers—he’s already hard.

He lets out a long breath through his nose, biting back a curse.

“Stop playing…” he mutters, but it’s weak—he doesn’t really mean it.

Your voice dips lower. “Did Hoshi call you a puppy?”

“Mhm— a puppy in love, he said.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. He’s hot, thick, and already leaking. He groans—sharp and low.

“Fuck—don’t tease—”

You pull down his jeans and boxers in one slow motion, freeing his cock. He twitches in your hand.

“So much pre-cum…” you say. “Were you really about to cum in your pants, Gyu?”

He laughs at himself, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, yes—almost.”

You bite your lip, your hand moving slow at first, teasing. His breath catches. “Shit—I’m sensitive.”

You watch the way his expression shifts—brows knit together, lips parting, chest rising quicker with every breath.

“Don’t—ahh—your hands…” he groans, voice breaking around the words.

You go a little faster. His hips twitch. A breathless moan slips from his lips and he grabs at the sheets.

“What if I..” You lean in, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. You give a soft lick, just once—just to see.

“Shit— cant you just—” he gasps, jaw clenched tight.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so loud,” you whisper. “What if they hear you like this?”

He lets out a desperate sound, biting down on his fist, like that’ll help.

You smirk, finally taking him into your mouth—slow, deep, with deliberate pressure. His whole body jerks.

He’s trying to hold back. He doesn’t even dare to look at you. Because if he does—if he watches your lips wrapped around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, your head moving slow and steady—he’ll lose it. Completely.

You suck him deeper, your lips wrapped tight, tongue tracing every inch. He’s so responsive, so sensitive, every little flick making him twitch in your mouth. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and the soft, ragged sounds coming from his throat only make you want more.

“Shit—” he gasps, a hand reaching down, not to push you away—but to ground himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding.

You glance up. His head’s tossed back, lips parted.

He tries to hold still. Tries not to fuck up into your mouth. But the way you’re working him—slow, then fast, then slow again—it’s driving him insane.

And then suddenly—

“Wait—fuck, baby—stop.”

You try to understand why he pulled away—lips still parted, his length heavy in your hand—and then you hear it. Footsteps. The faint creak of the bathroom door down the hall. Someone’s awake.

instead of stopping, you stroke him—slow, deliberate—watching his eyes flutter, jaw clench tight.

“Shit, baby…” he whispers, voice tight, “I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna—”

You lean up, cutting him off with a kiss. A soft hush. You don’t want him too loud either. But he’s still so hard, throbbing in your hand, and the way he kisses you back—messy and desperate—tells you how badly he’s struggling.

He sits up slowly, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into his lap like he can’t help it. You settle over him, straddling, still bare, your pussy brushing his cock. The friction makes you both gasp—his tip slides right against your folds, wet and hot and so wrong. So good.

“Fuck—” he groans into your mouth. “Baby, your pussy… it's—shit—it’s right there.”

“I know,” you whisper, lips brushing his. You roll your hips, letting his cock glide through your slick folds, not quite inside, but enough to make him lose his breath. “But we’re not having sex, right?”

His hands squeeze your hips tighter, trying to steady you, but you keep grinding—slow, delicious pressure. His cock slides over your clit just right, making you both shiver.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes.

“But you like it,” you whisper against his jaw, biting it gently.

“Fuck baby, I love it. You feel—mhm—fuck.” He’s unraveling beneath you, hips jerking up once, just barely.

You smirk and keep going. Little circles. Little rocks of your hips. You moan quietly, lips brushing his ear. “What if I came like this? Just from grinding on your cock?”

“Dont fucking talk like that. Shit—”

And then he says it—low, strained, breathless:

“Just the tip?” He meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper. “It wouldn’t count… right?”

The smirk on your lips falters when you feel him shift beneath you. He looks at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. His tone drops lower—deeper, more confident now. “Say yes.”

You nod. That’s all he needs.

He pulls you down—slowly—just enough to push the head of his cock inside. You gasp at the stretch, at how thick he feels, even like this. He holds you there, both of you trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

You whimper, but before you can speak, he moves. He rocks his hips up—just once, shallow, purposeful. Enough to make you cry out and cling to him.

He chuckles, quiet and low. “Told you. Just the tip, and already look at you…”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he loves it.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, guiding your hips slowly, letting you feel all of him without giving you everything. “Look at you. So desperate to be full, huh?”

You nod again, helpless. “Please…”

He tilts your chin up, kissing you softly—then deeper, filthier. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He hums, leaning back to look at you. “Then ask me.”

You swallow hard, but your mouth stays shut, lips parted, breath shallow. You know what he wants to hear— but something in you won’t give it to him that easily. Not yet.

“Hm?” he says softly, eyes narrowing with the hint of a smirk. “No?”

His hands slide down your sides, slow and sure. He shifts his hips under you—just the head of his cock still buried inside, pulsing—and rolls them up ever so slightly. Just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers trailing over your clit in featherlight circles. You jerk forward instinctively, gasping.

“Fuck—Mingyu—”

“Still not asking,” he mutters, almost amused, his voice thick with restraint.

He keeps circling, teasing—soft, slow, maddening. At the same time, he rocks his hips again, just a little, dragging himself barely an inch deeper inside you. Your body clenches down, desperate for more.

You whimper, hands braced on his chest, trying not to completely melt. He’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every shaky breath.

His free hand grips your ass, guiding you into a slow, lazy grind against him. The friction makes your head spin—you can feel the tip of his cock pressing right there, and his fingers still working you, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore.

You try to hold on—but your body betrays you, chasing the rhythm, chasing more. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your pride holds them back just a moment longer.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll keep going like this all night,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like this. Teasing you. Keeping you full, but never enough. Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” you breathe, almost a sob. Your legs are shaking now, your whole body aching.

“Say it,” he whispers. You break. You can’t take it anymore.

“Please—Mingyu—fuck me.”

And the second those words leave your mouth, his expression shifts—something deeper, darker flashes in his eyes.

He grabs your waist with both hands and sinks you down onto him in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping his name, your body going taut.

“There you go,” he breathes, his voice strained, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you take me so well.”

You’re panting, hips rolling instinctively, but he slows you down with a firm grip.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you like this. Just… stay here a second.”

You can feel him pulsing inside you, his hands roaming your back, your hips, your thighs like he’s trying to memorize every part of you. He presses kisses to your neck, slow and hot.

Then he starts to move—hips snapping up, controlled, deep. Not rough, but precise. He watches your face the whole time, eyes flicking down to your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside you.

“You feel me right there?” he growls against your ear. “Right where you needed it?”

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, your voice broken.

“Tell me,” he urges, his tone softer now, coaxing. “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“So good—fuck, so deep—Mingyu—”

He kisses you again, grinning into it, just a little cocky now that you’re coming apart in his hands. His pace quickens, your moans slipping free with every thrust, louder, needier.

And then he stills, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Ride me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Let me watch you.”

You bite your lip, breath shaky, but you shift your weight and begin to move—slow at first, dragging your hips in circles, rolling against him. He groans, loud, his head tipping back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you from beneath messy strands of hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Just like that—fuck—look at you.”

You start to bounce, the rhythm building as his hands slide down to your hips, helping, guiding, squeezing. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, filthy and wet and perfect. You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop grinding down onto him—because he’s so deep, and you’re so full, and it’s too much.

You’re close. You can feel it coiling deep in your stomach.

“I—Gyu—I’m—” You don’t even finish. Your body seizes up, every muscle tightening as you cry out his name and fall apart around him, shaking, pulsing, gasping.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers, his voice wrecked. “Cum for me. Right here, right on my cock.”

He’s right there with you—watching you fall apart around him has him unraveling, too. His fingers tighten at your waist, jaw clenched, a desperate groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, I can’t hold it—”

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, still trembling, your voice barely more than a whimper. You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and warm, and the plea in your voice pushes him right over the edge.

With a broken moan of your name, he buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, his face tucked into your neck, breath shaky and warm against your skin.

For a while, neither of you moves. There’s just the sound of your heartbeats, the rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your jaw. Then your lips—soft, lingering. You both smile into it, drunk on the closeness.

As the haze starts to fade, you shift your hips, starting to lift off him gently.

But his arms tighten, holding you in place.

“No,” he murmurs, half-pleading. “I wanna stay inside you a little longer.”

You sink back down with a quiet laugh, and he whimpers.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m still sensitive…”

You smile, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead and kiss the mole on the tip of his nose. He blinks up at you, wide-eyed and flushed—and then he just starts to laugh. His hair is a wreck, his lips still kiss-bruised, and his collarbone is marked where you bit him earlier. But it’s his eyes that undo you—bright and crinkled at the corners.

You laugh too, even if you’re not sure why. “What?” you ask, grinning.

He shakes his head, still smiling like he can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m a fucking puppy in love.”

a/n: it’s done!! finally. i’m so sorry for making you guys wait this long, but i’m actually really happy with how it turned out. i hope you like it just as much as i do ⭑.ᐟ thank you so much for waiting patiently—your comments were seriously the sweetest and so, so kind. ⋆.˚

fun fact about the whole ��jealousy” story: this actually started out as a completely different story. i was inspired by that one gif of mingyu at the gym, and had this whole plot in mind… but then i realized it needed some context to make sense, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into this. so yeah, that’s why san’s little cameo feels kinda random 😭 BUT i’m thinking of turning that original idea into a bonus part for this one instead...would you want to read it?? let me know in the comments, in my dms, wherever—i’d love to hear from you!!

love youuuu xoxo ౨ৎ

My cute little 🏷️ taglist:

@wseye @wooahaeivy @dinow13 @httpscoco444 @jihoonsbbygirl @tigersandcherries @souleater440 @gyuldaengie97 @potayaa @mmingooo @ninigyuuu @littlewolfieposts @amingo046 @saturnesposts @starsewl @saltyfriendsaladbandit @imhwajaez @perfectlycleverface @chykyu @gohyemi @baekhyunimochibbh @gh0stprinceess @holyfestfire @id7lso @zimzalaminho @hellosighsophy-blog @my-woozi @sumeyyetuna

Honorable tag: @maplegyu

thank you for enjoying my fic and supporting me! It means a lot!

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bunnygirllover45 · 5 months ago

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— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?”

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.”

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.”

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.”

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips.

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter.

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center.

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.”

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.”

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.”

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

#ah yes #is that #“the author's thinly veiled fetishes“ moment #anyways hope u guys don't mind me nerding about hunting...#male yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #chrona... writes stuff?#johann the bastard

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Let Me Sleep

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Rating : General Audiences

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: is sleep too much to ask for…

Paige Bueckers is the human equivalent of a golden retriever. Loud, affectionate, and seemingly immune to exhaustion. I, on the other hand, am not.

This becomes a problem every weekend when she didn’t have practice or games, she wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, blasting music or throwing herself on top of me to get me out of bed. It’s also a problem late at night, when my only goal is to shower and pass out, but she and our friends have other plans—like tonight.

After an exhausting volleyball practice and an eight-hour shift at work, all I wanted was silence, a warm shower, and sleep. I walked into our apartment fully prepared to collapse face-first into the mattress.

But instead, I was met with chaos.

Paige, KK, Ice, Jana, and Aubrey were gathered in the living room, the glow of a ring light illuminating their faces as they talked animatedly to one of the phones propped up in front of them.

They were on live. Of course.

“Baby!” Paige practically launched herself off the couch when she saw me, nearly tripping over her laptop charger in the process. “You’re home!”

“Yeah,” I muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion as I dropped my bag by the door. “Unfortunately.”

KK snorted. “Oh nah, she’s on her last leg.”

“I am,” I confirmed, rubbing my eyes. “Why are y’all screaming?”

Aubrey grinned. “We’re debating self-defense moves.”

Ice held up a Lego set. “And building this.”

I blinked. “…What?”

“They’re gonna try the moves on each other,” Jana explained with a shake of her head. “And Ice is building a house. With me.”

“Multitasking,” Ice said proudly.

I sighed, already regretting my life choices. “I’m going to bed.”

Paige pouted. “Noooo, don’t leave me.”

I gave her a blank stare. “Paige, I just worked for eight hours after a full morning practice. I want to sleep.”

“You can sleep here.” She tugged at my wrist. “C’mon, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Now that’s a damn lie,” I deadpanned.

The live chat must have heard because the comments started flying:

“She already knows Paige be lying, LMAOO.”

“Nah, you should sleep there just to prove how done you are.”

“Golden retriever gf and black cat gf fr, fr.”

“It’s giving y/n is a single mother rn.”

Paige ignored them, pulling me toward the couch and plopping back down with her laptop. “Here, cuddle me so you’ll be comfy.”

I was too tired to argue, so I let her maneuver me onto her lap, arms loosely wrapped around her shoulders as she settled back against the couch.

The moment my head hit her shoulder, I was gone.

I woke up to muffled voices, but I barely registered them.

Paige’s arms were still wrapped securely around me, her warmth cocooning me in a way that made it impossible to move. I buried my face deeper into her hoodie, inhaling the familiar scent of her detergent.

Somewhere in the background, KK’s voice rang out. “Wait, wait—yo, the chat is killing me right now.”

I frowned, cracking an eye open. Paige was still typing on her laptop, completely unfazed by whatever was happening. KK, Ice, Jana, and Aubrey were still talking animatedly to the iPad.

They were still on live.

I groaned softly, shifting against Paige. “Y’all are seriously still streaming?”

Paige rubbed my back absentmindedly. “Mhm.”

Jana smirked. “The chat’s been going crazy over you.”

I frowned. “What?”

KK cackled, reading out comments.

“She deadass knocked out while they screaming their lungs out over Legos and self-defense.”

“Bro, she’s strong cause I could nevaaa.”

“Paige, she’s sooo done with y’all.”

“It’s giving power couple.”

“They’re gonna make edits of them, I just know it.”

I groaned again, squeezing my eyes shut. “I hate all of you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Paige cooed, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The chat exploded.

“PAIGE PLSSS.”

“She’s so whipped.”

“Nah, I need me a Paige.”

“Paige doing work with y/n in her lap gives.. a single mother vibes.”

“Somebody que up Reba McEntire.”

I sighed, too tired to care. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Paige chuckled. “Go ahead, baby. I got you.”

And just like that, I was out again—chaos and all.

Sometime later—maybe an hour, maybe longer—I woke up to the sensation of being lifted. Paige’s arms were steady as she carried me toward our bedroom, her steps careful despite how exhausted she had to be by now.

“Mm,” I mumbled sleepily, cracking my eyes open just enough to see her face. “Live’s finally over?”

She smiled down at me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Yeah, baby. Got my homework turned in on time, too.”

I hummed in approval, letting my head rest against her shoulder as she set me down on the bed and pulled the blankets over me. The room was dim, the soft glow from the hallway light casting a shadow across her face.

“Hold on, ma,” she murmured before disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she returned with my cup, filled to the brim with ice water. She set it down on my nightstand, her fingers brushing against my forehead as she leaned in. “So you don’t wake up thirsty.”

I blinked up at her, my heart doing an annoying little flip at how effortlessly sweet she was. “You’re the best.”

Paige smirked. “I know.”

I reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could turn away. “Come lay down.”

She hesitated. “I’m not really sleepy yet.”

“Don’t care.” I tugged her toward the bed. “Just come cuddle.”

That was all the convincing she needed. Paige climbed in beside me, her arm slipping under my waist as I curled into her side.

“Okay, but what are we watching?” she asked, grabbing the remote.

I thought for a second before grinning. “Turn on something from Disney Jr.”

Paige gave me a look. “You deadass?”

I nodded. “Yep. Something nostalgic. We can make fun of it while we watch.”

She rolled her eyes, but the fondness in her expression was undeniable. A few moments later, the familiar theme song of Little Einsteins filled the room. I snorted.

Paige smirked. “Classic.”

For the next hour, we laid there, half-watching, half-talking about our day. I told her about how my legs were still sore from practice, how I nearly cussed out a customer at work, and how I saw a dog that reminded me of her on my way home.

She told me about her classes, the new drill Coach Geno had them running, and how she was convinced Ice was going to drop out of school and become a full-time Lego builder.

By the time the clock hit 4 a.m., our words had slowed, our sentences broken by long stretches of silence. Paige’s fingers traced lazy circles against my back, her breath warm against my temple.

“You tired now?” I murmured.

She exhaled softly. “Yeah, baby.”

I nuzzled into her chest. “Finally.”

She chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Goodnight, ma.”

“‘Night, Paigey.”

And just like that, we drifted off, tangled in each other, with Little Einsteins still playing in the background.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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camzeecorner · 3 months ago

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𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂 𝙾. 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 ₊˚ෆ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

smut ღ dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

click the title link!

As you silently slid your pajama bottoms down you discreetly tossed them to the side. Your wet panties followed quickly. You softly rubbed slow circles on your clit, biting your lip to contain your noises. Chris was too focused in his phone, his back towards you. Your breath picked up causing you to rub faster, throwing your head back against the headboard you whined lowly.

You could feel your legs start to shake, you knew you were so close to cumming. You slowed your movements eventually stopping as you huffed out shutting your eyes. You inhaled deeply as you let out a deep sigh.

Sitting up on the bed you crawled to Chris grabbing his shoulder making him fall back onto the bed. His eyebrows furrow in confusion by the sudden act. As he looked up he saw you, leaning over him with you body on full display for him.

His dick quickly reacted as he felt it twitch with excitement. He smirked as he looked up your body from below. His eyes gnawed at your dripping cunt, completely wet and desperate to be touched.

“All for me?” His voice raspy. You nodded as you lifted your right leg up swinging it over his face. As you sat down completely he wasted no time in attacking your pussy slurping every juice that was there.

Your mouth hung open as loud moans escaped. Feeling his tongue dart in and out of your hole your body shook from the pleasure. Sliding effortlessly against his face his nose tickled your clit making you scream.

“Could eat this pussy all day baby” Chris whined from under you. Your breath caught in your throat as you rocked your hips against him gaining more speed. You felt as he shook his head against you, only tipping you over the edge more. As you felt your orgasm approach your eyes rolled back letting out a cry of pleasure.

“Don’t get up, m’not even close to being done.” You heard Chris speak.

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous @ribread03 @meatballlover10 @mattslolita @sophand4n4 @riasturns @nickysturnss @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @sturnshood @riasturns @strnilolover @mattsbrowser @cayleeuhithinknott

this is horrible and rushed so I’m sorry 🥲🥲

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leonsgfpost · 7 months ago

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note: Hi! I've been a little inactive, right? I've been busy, but there's always time to write something about Leon haha💕

tags: riding, unprotected sex, creampie, Leon damnation (or any older!Leon) x fem! reader.

Thinking about lazy sex with Leon.

You're on top of him, your face hidden in his neck and your hands rested on his shoulders releasing little moans into his skin. His hands held your hips, helping your movements slowly.

Leon's eyes remained narrowed and his brows furrowed in pleasure at the feel of your wet walls sliding over and over him. You two hadn't even finished removing your clothes, because his pants were down his thighs and your underwear to one side.

"Come on, pretty girl... You-ah feel so good." He murmured against your shoulder, inhaling your scent and leaving occasional kisses on your soft skin.

"Are you tired-?" he asked, a low, husky laugh escaping his lips. He looked up at you through his lashes with eyes heavy with pleasure and sleep, bringing his lips to one of your breasts moving your strappy t-shirt up, ruffling it there. He began sucking on your nipple gently, watching your reaction before he began sucking harder. He caught the tender flesh between his teeth, tugging gently. When he hears your little "huh-huh," he smiled releasing your breast with an obscenely loud 'pop.' He padded his feet on the bed and held your hips tightly, beginning to lift you up and down his cock as if you were a sex doll.

"There you go. Feels good-?" he asked again, because it was hard to control his tongue when you were clenching so tightly around him and clouding his drunken brain with the wet noise of your pussy. Low moans escaped his lips, starting to move his hips upward so he could ram you and hit that spongy spot inside you that his dripping tip was obsessed with.

Little moans from you and breathless gasps from him quickly filled the dark room lit by the red numbers marking 02:42 A.M on the little clock next to you. It wasn't often Leon would wake up so needy, but it had been days since he'd laid hands on you and his cock was already screaming for release.

"Damn. Damnit." Little curses and breathless grunts came from Leon's lips that were always flavored with the taste of your liquor. His teeth dug into your shoulder futilely, trying to silence his pathetic moans. His cock began to jerk inside you, for it no longer had the same resistance it had years before. But it didn't matter, because his calloused fingers were always there to give attention to your cute little clit. Your walls tightened around it, starting to feel that familiar sensation in your lower belly. And Leon's careless lunges only turned you on more, because you knew you were the only one who could make a man like him go all messy and dumb for your pussy.

And it's almost funny the pathetic, broken moan he lets out when your walls finally squeeze him, letting your juices splash down his thighs and abdomen creating wet sounds. Your body immediately relaxed, letting Leon continue to mindlessly fuck your brains out. And in one particular lunge, he thrusts his hips up and yours down, letting his cum explode inside you.

You heard his voice saying something, asking something. But your brain was melted, shaking on his chest trying to cope with the sensations of your orgasm and Leon's cum beginning to seep through your folds.

"Are you still with me, honey? Huh-?" he murmured, giving you that typical smile of his. And you opened your eyelids heavy with pleasure, trying to focus your gaze. You let out a little moan, realizing that Leon was settling you face down on the sheets.

"One more time. Please." He asked, settling in behind you. He pressed his chest against your back, his fingers moving to finally slide your ruined underwear down your thighs.

Because lazy sex with Leon always ended in him fucking your brains out until you fell asleep again.

hey! did you like it? please let me know it 🎀

(💌) bye, bye !

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon resident evil #resident evil x reader #smut

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dreamauri · 29 days ago

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♪ — 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗗𝗨𝗘 charles leclerc x fiance! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . pulling a tiktok prank on your poor fiance Charles, telling him you can't pay the land lord rent this month. it takes Charles a second to absorb and properly process that information (428 words)

( main master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when a particular prank caught your eye. Wives telling their husbands, “I can’t pay rent this month,” just to see their reactions. The results were hilarious—men panicking, scrambling for their wallets, or losing their minds over financial responsibility.

It was perfect.

Charles was in the kitchen, making himself an espresso, completely unaware of your devious plan. You waited until he took a sip, ensuring maximum chaos.

You inhaled deeply, forcing your voice to tremble a little for dramatic effect.

“Charles . . . I can’t pay rent this month.”

His head snapped up so fast you thought he might get whiplash. “What?”

You bit your lip, pretending to be distraught. “I—I just don’t have enough. I’m sorry.”

Charles blinked rapidly, setting his cup down with a loud clink. “What do you mean you don’t have enough? Mon amour, you shouldn’t even be paying rent!” His voice pitched higher with every word, his accent thickening in his panic.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “I just—I don’t know, I—”

“Who are you paying?” He was already reaching for his phone, his green eyes wide with genuine concern. “Who made you think you have to pay rent? Are they scamming you?”

“Uhh—”

Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, you saw it dawn on him. His eyes darted around the apartment, realization hitting him like a truck.

" . . . Wait.”

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling loudly. “Merde. I own this apartment—I'm the landlord.”

And just like that, the fear in his eyes disappeared—replaced by pure mischief. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin, and your stomach dropped.

“Charles—”

Too late.

He was already striding toward you, grabbing your arms and giving you a firm shake, just enough to make you giggle-scream.

“You—” Shake.

“Almost—” Shake.

“Gave me a heart attack!” Shake.

You were laughing uncontrollably now, trying to squirm away, but Charles wasn’t done. He cupped your face, his grip firm, and attacked you with a flurry of kisses—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your lips, everywhere.

“Stop doing this to me,” he muttered between kisses, his tone half-scolding, half-breathless laughter.

You gasped for air between giggles. “It was just a prank!”

“A prank that nearly killed me!” His lips were pressed against yours before you could protest, the kiss deep and almost aggressive—like he had to prove something. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you grinning.

“Promise me no more pranks,” he murmured.

You beamed up at him. “I promise.”

(You promised wrong)

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jenscx · 7 months ago

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CALL ME WHEN YOU GET LOST !

# special 2k celebration ; aespa as classic tropes

tags aespaxreader, fluff, idol!au, fifthmember!reader, karina’s fic is inspired by haobin fanmeeting, zero angst, flirty x flustered, only one bed, sunshine x sunshine protector, enemies to lovers

🎙️ author’s note: thank you everyone for 2k followers! i was never expecting to gain so much traction for my writing but i’m really happy that people have been enjoying my works! as promised, here is a special fic to truly show how grateful i am for your support (*¯︶¯*)

YU JIMIN — flirty x flustered

jimin would definitely enjoy teasing you a lot. the first time she had made an offhand comment, her eyes were basically sparkling when she witnessed the blush that spread through your face. she likes the way your eyes evert from her gaze.

“oh? are you blushing again? did your heart flutter because of me?” jimin would ask, staring at you intently with faux innocence. she’s amused by your hand reaching out to swat her face away. despite your disdain for her flirty nature, some part of you felt satisfied whenever jimin’s attention would be on you solely. it was egotistical, but you enjoyed it nonetheless; the fact that this one girl had people bowing down at her feet, worshipping her, but she only focused on you.

jimin’s flirting has no end; during vlogs, behind the scenes, instagram lives, concerts and even fanmeets. like that one time, a fan had asked jimin who she would her sibling date in aespa and her response had twitter up in flames the next day.

“who would i let my sibling date?” jimin hums thoughtfully, her head swaying from side to side as she observes her fellow members. you catch the way her lips curl into a smirk above the microphone, “that person must be a kind and sweet girl then…”

there’s multiple chants of ‘y/n’ from the crowd of mys, no doubt due to the popularity of ynrina. you bow your head down, cheeks already slightly red. then, jimin says, “maybe aeri? she’s very caring and reliable.”

the crowd falls silent with disappointment and then one fan shouts, “why not y/n?!” the mention of your name makes you snap your head upwards and you reach for the microphone to retort. yet, jimin beats you to it and she giggles slyly, “y/n is mine.”

“what?!” another fan shrieks and suddenly, they all erupt into cheers and screams. you wince at their loudness, the fluffy headband resting neatly on your hair nearly falling down. jimin’s face is filled with satisfaction and your members are equally as stunned as the crowd.

you groan, already feeling the fatigue from having to do another late instagram live to feed the fanservice after today. jimin only grins, clearly elated by the response of the fans.

“jimin-ah, why do you like y/n?!”

the mentioned girl only hums, supposedly unfazed by all the commotion caused by her answer.

“y/nnie? her reaction’s are cute, no?” jimin smiles, glancing at you. unfortunately for yourself, the seating arrangement was according to age and being the second oldest, you found yourself sitting next to jimin. “and she’s a good cook. she always cooks for us and her ramen is delicious. i think she would make a good girlfriend.”

your ears burn with embarrassment as multiple flashes go off, capturing the moment that would surely make its way onto the trending page tomorrow. jimin merely nods, proud of herself.

“what about you, y/n-ah?!”

you swallow your saliva, inhaling sharply and picking up the microphone. there’s a moment of hesitation before you mutter, “jimin unnie would make a good sister-in-law.”

the crowd bursts into disappointment and jimin glares at you playfully with disapproval. she huffs, “am i not your type?” her question only further fuels the burning heat in your cheeks. you can barely look at her now, eyes staring straight at the numerous letters and gifts your fans had given you that were all laid out on the table.

“so who would you choose to date then?” jimin adds. you can feel the saliva in your throat drying up, “uhm… maybe… minjeongie…”

“kim minjeong, don’t steal my y/n!” jimin yells as minjeong rolls her eyes. your eyes fall on yizhuo, who’s already grimacing at the scene. you just know she’s imagining her twitter timeline tomorrow.

“stop making fun of her before she explodes,” aeri chides as jimin gleefully chuckles. the older one reaches over to prod at your cheek, feeling the warmth and then cradling it in her palm, “her face is so hot.”

“unnie—” your voice comes out strained and luckily for you, minjeong cuts in, “rina unnie, calm down.”

jimin halts for a second and then sighs loudly and dramatically. she leans back into her chair, pouting. you can still feel the adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream from her touch. it’s maddening the way she can make you feel so flustered without much effort.

true to your words, both ‘karina’ and ‘y/n’ trended on twitter the next day. the keywords had exploded in popularity and there were thousands of edits of this supposed y/nrina moment.

@jjimyangs | 28/09/24

ynrina’s cute relationship ^^ the way rina says her sibling can’t date yn because yn is hers where can i find a yu jimin for myself 🙈

@ningzhyo | 28/09/24

ynrina is REAL. i can’t believe they’re this flirty and sweet in front of us this is sickening omfg im about to throw up. if they arent dating i’ll eat my sock

@solddaeng | 28/09/24

aespa trending cuz of ynrina… thank you gay people for existing 🙏🙏

UCHINAGA AERI — only one bed

going on tour meant having barely an hour’s worth of sleep, frantic running and packing, drastic practices that drained your energy and sharing hotel rooms together. most of the time, the company would be able to book separate rooms for all the members. at least when they were free, they could rest with comfort. you appreciated that fact. either that or the company would at least have member sharing a twin bed hotel room rather than a single.

yet, the hasty planning of the tour led to some misunderstandings and confusion. everyone had been working extremely hard for the upcoming schedules and perhaps some miscommunication had happened. hence, that’s why you found yourself staring at a single bed with uchinaga aeri by your side. for the hongkong stop, aeri was to share a room with you and you didn’t mind at all. you had been her roommate for a couple of months before. aeri was neat, clean and helpful.

unfortunately you couldn’t fathom how you both would be able to fit on a single bed. the room had no other space to sleep on— other than the living room couch.

you turn your head back to the couch situated right in front of the television stand. there’s already a feeling of soreness that runs through your back as you observe the firm and rough texture.

aeri was already having back aches with the amount of practise you had been doing and she couldn’t suffer another night. you weren’t too fond of sleeping on the couch either.

“let’s just sleep together,” aeri offers.

“will we both fit?” you ask hesitantly.

aeri grimaces slightly before nodding. you had already showered and due to your fatigue, you didn’t even notice that there was a single bed instead of two. freshly showered, aeri heads towards the bed and flops onto it. her body already took up almost a third of the space available and there was no doubt that you had to at least squeeze together to accommodate you as well. your hand reaches out to the side to turn off the remaining lamps. as the room dims, you take hesitant steps towards the bed.

you sit on top of the duvet sheet and carefully maneuver yourself to slide into the blanket. aeri only watches and she slowly inches closer to the side.

your skin eventually rests against the soft sheets and aeri’s body. her touch emits warmth and it sends a tingle down your spine. you don’t dare to look up at her, choosing to stare away. your hands are placed awkwardly by your side

“is this okay…?” aeri’s voice whispers beside your ear. you sink further into the mattress, feeling the tips of your ears burn at her close proximity. swallowing your saliva, you mumble back, “ye-yeah.. it’s fine.”

you can feel aeri shifting a bit before nodding her head. a moment of silence passes. your eyes eventually flutter close but aeri shuffles around again. when you peek in the darkness, half of her limbs are dangling down the bed and her face is scrunched up in discomfort. she’s facing the other side and at the edge of the bed.

“you should come closer. you’re gonna fall off,” you state, guilt seeping into you.

“it’s okay— there’s, uhm, not much space,” she replies. you ignore her words and turn around. once you’re facing her back directly, you reach out to tug at her arm, pulling her closer to the middle.

aeri lets out a whine but she doesn’t resist.

“should we just cuddle?” aeri asks quietly. there really wasn’t another way. you were fine with skinship but something about cuddling with the japanese seemed too intimate. you hadn’t been too comfortable with physical touch at first but after getting closer to the members, you would no longer flinch at their advances.

among all the members, you would say you spent the least time with aeri. despite being the same age, you just got too intimidated everytime she was near you. her domineering figure that towered over your head was frightening. sometimes, when you’re talking, she would lean down to listen better and it only makes you even more aware of how much taller she is than you. something about the noticable height difference made your chest constrict and your cheeks flush.

“i guess so,” you try to hide the nervousness in your voice. unfortunately, it does crack a little but aeri pays no mind to it. just as you flip your body around, she flings a hand over your waist, pulling your back flush against her chest. goosebumps rise against your skin as you feel her body warmth.

“this is better,” aeri mutters, sighing comfortably. her cool breath breezes over your ear, forcing an involuntary shiver that makes you shrink in her arms even further. her legs are woven with yours, tangling together like threads. you can feel every inch of the smooth expanse of her legs that silently, you curse yourself for wearing shorts. “you okay?” aeri asks.

“yes, i’m fine,” you croak out, “goodnight aeri.”

“mhm— night, lovely.”

@aebbltrans | 21/09/24

🌙💬 bubble update

‘did everyone sleep well?’

+1 📸

‘i sure did 🤭’

seems like ynselle slept together?!

@aerishilton | 21/09/24

yn and gigi shared a hotel room and bed last night omfg and gigi posting a photo of them cuddling YNSELLE NATION WE ARE ALIVE!

KIM MINJEONG — sunshine x sunshine protector

you had known minjeong for a long time— ever since you were trainees. most of the time, she was broody and indifferent. popular for her cold looks, the stage name ‘winter’ suited her well. sometimes, rarely, she would smile. you didn’t understand why she had such a poker face on for the longest time until she had gifted you with the sight of her smile. then you understood that it was because the curl of her lips would give people heart attacks immediately.

minjeong wouldn’t smile often, but when she did, it was like a gift from god himself. hence, everytime she would grace you with her smile, you would subconsciously capture the memory in your mind.

when you had first debuted, minjeong was criticised heavily for not having any facial expressions. you had spent countless nights as burner twitter accounts arguing with trolls and haters. you hated how everytime she went online, her smile would dim further.

you would have your ipad, macbook and phone all displaying the comment section under minjeong’s fancams and everytime you spotted a hate comment, you would start arguing with them about how minjeong was definitely not a robot and she had real emotions. sometimes minjeong would wake up from her naps, groggily hugging your back for comfort and you would get distracted from this super important matter at hand.

(but minjeong always comes first and she gives really good hugs, so you’ll abandon your devices in favour of cuddling her under her thick, comfy blanket.)

one time, the hate comments were especially bad and minjeong didn’t come out for dinner, even refusing her favourite food. obviously worried, you had gone to her room, begging for her to let you in.

after some time, minjeong finally opened the door. you had felt your chest deflating at her puffy eyes and red nose, still sniffling. you spent that entire night talking to minjeong, saying how proud you are of her and how she shouldn’t listen to whatever mindless nonsense she was reading.

“—i know it’s difficult to express your emotions well and i understand. you can always talk to me. i just want you to be happy,” you had comforted her. minjeong only stared at you, confused.

“i’m the happiest version of myself right now,” she had stated firmly. despite the evident tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, her voice was full of conviction. you could only smile fondly and rest your head against hers, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

at that moment, you had vowed to always protect minjeong. that precious smile that you rarely saw— it needed to be preserved gently, like a diamond. if you could keep her in a museum, protected behind a layer of thick glass no one could penetrate, you would.

even a few years into your career, when aespa was steadily growing in popularity, you had deemed yourself as the knight in shining armor that would protect your minjeong from harm. traveling meant that fans would swarm the airport and paparazzi would camp outside the terminals, hoping to take photos of the newly arrived idols.

the moment you stepped out of the gates, fans had started pushing around and a crowd swiftly formed, surrounding the whole group and the bodyguards. minjeong was latched onto your arm and you felt her grip tighten as multiple flashes of cameras went off. you had pulled her a little closer to your body, ensuring that the horde of fans couldn’t get too close.

“winter! look here!”

"karina-ssi!"

minjeong’s head turns and she’s nearly bombarded by a new onslaught of fans, all pushing towards her like zombies. instinctively, you step ahead to block her from everyone, a scowl plastered on your face. you loved your fans and your life as an idol but sometimes the attention was overwhelming. hands reached out through the gaps between the security, holding letters and gifts. you had tried your best to grab any envelopes with one hand since your other was occupied with hugging minjeong.

one hand filled with letters, you try to muster up a grateful smile at everyone despite your annoyance that they were shoving cameras in your face. the other members were in front, jimin leading the way while aeri and yizhuo followed closely behind. you could see the gate where the company car was parked from far away. knowing that you would reach soon, relief settled in your heart while minjeong’s fingernails dug into your skin.

“you okay?” you ask loudly over all the shouting. minjeong nods meekly and exclaims through her mask, “i’m okay!”

almost a third of the way there, you hear a yelp within the crowd and a blur flashes by your face. security immediately tries to block off the stranger breaching through their protection. the person manages to just glide their fingertips on minjeong’s shoulder before you jump into action, grasping the collar of their shirt and pulling them as far away as you could from minjeong. then, you shove them forcefully into the hands of your bodyguards, leaving them to deal with the stranger. you can feel minjeong trembling beside you and internally, you curse yourself for not acting faster.

the rest of the trip to the car goes by smoothly; all the fans seemed a little more timid now, probably shocked that their idol would push them away and scared of the repercussions if they did get too close. the moment you entered the car, you inhale sharply, finally catching a breath of fresh air from all the commotion.

“thank you for just now,” minjeong whispers quietly and if you hadn’t been paying extra attention to her, you would have missed it.

“that guy got too close,” you shake your head, frowning at the thought of him being within a metre radius of minjeong. the girl only pouts cutely, “at least you were there to save me.” she says it like she’s a damsel in distress that you were owed the duty of protecting. maroon colouring your cheeks, you cough awkwardly, “just making sure you guys are fine.”

“you should join the security team,” jimin chuckles while aeri feels up your biceps, aweing in disbelief, “how’d you manage to throw him like that?! you don’t even go to the gym.”

meanwhile, yizhuo just sighs, “twitter’s going to be crazy tomorrow.”

@kminsiksgf | 29/09/24

DOES ANYONE HAVE THAT VIDEO OF YN TOSSING THE SASAENG AWAY FROM MINJEONG

@krynaeri | 29/09/24

oomf just blessed me with a new minyn moment 😫 wish i was mj so bad i want yn to be throwing people around for me.

@ynbubble | 29/09/24

🫧💭 [3.17pm]

mys~~ please be careful if you come see us at the airport ^^ walk slowly and carefully! to protect yourself don’t push around and make sure to be respectful!

+1 📸

look at how well minjeongie is taking her afternoon nap! like a cute puppy 🐶

NING YIZHUO — enemies to lovers (one-sided)

ever since the chinese girl had became your roommate, you had hated her. from the moment she landed in sm, she always managed to ignite a fire of rage inside you. ning yizhuo was cocky, rude and nasty in your eyes. you wouldn’t understand why jimin and minjeong were so prone to hanging out with her since she was a literal spawn of satan. sometimes you think that god sent her up to earth from hell to test your limits.

constantly eating your snacks, throwing paper airplanes at your head folded from lyric sheets, purposely bumping into you during dance practices, was there a day that went by without your blood boiling because of ning yizhuo? you hated how she used her angelic charms and innocence as a maknae to get herself out of trouble. when you had received the confirmation of shooting a debut music video, your heart had leapt, then dropped down into a bottomless pit when jimin had awkwardly muttered, “ning too.”

since your debut wasn’t truly confirmed until the music video dropped, you had prayed every day consistently, hoping that somehow, one of the higher-ups would decide to take yizhuo out of the lineup. yet, that never happened since on the seventeenth of november, you had debuted with yizhuo by your side. the anger you held for her subsided for a while during the first round of promotions since even it couldn’t overwhelm the happiness of debuting. but the moment everything settled again, it came back swinging in full force.

nothing you did seemed to restrain yizhuo from causing trouble. she would even bully you in front of the cameras, pinching your cheeks and smacking your shoulder roughly, all under the guise of being friendly. yizhuo knew you wouldn’t retaliate against her while shooting, so she took her chance. the popularity of the ‘tom and jerry’ duo, as fans had coined, only further brought suffering in your life. management would constantly want you and yizhuo to interact and they would force you to sit next to each other during fanmeetings.

“stop pinching me!” you yell, whacking yizhuo’s hand away with a my melody plushie a fan had gifted. the crowd only laughed at how yizhuo avoided your attacks and squeezed your cheeks gleefully. you wanted to smack that smirk off her face.

“mys, isn’t y/n so cute?” yizhuo asks, grinning proudly. head pounding from how hard your heart was beating, you give up fighting back and choose to glare at yizhuo between your squished cheeks.

“stop bullying her,” jimin chuckles, putting on a night fury headpiece. yizhuo rolls her eyes but she relents. throughout the fansign, she would make teasing comments, borderline almost hurtful if you weren’t already used to her antics.

one fan had asked, “how do you deal with ningning all the time? you’re very patient.”

you had to hide the disgusted sneer on your face and opt for a casual laugh, “she’s a handful. i’m just doing my best.”

yizhuo had obviously giggled at your lie and continued conversing with her own fan animatedly. just as another fan sits down, you hear the mind-boggling request of, “can we have ningy/n posing together?” your eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets and you almost blurted out for her to repeat her question. unfortunately, yizhuo had heard her (because she has supersonic bat hearing, which you found out after you had cursed her under your breath and she merely winked at you).

“c’mere,” yizhuo wiggles her fingers around, pulling your chair closer and forming a half of a heart with her left hand. begrudgingly, you do the same with your right hand, smiling at the wave of flashes that go off. her other hand wraps around your shoulder, gripping it tightly but playing it off as skinship. you wince at the sharp nails that dig into your bare skin.

even after the fansign, you could still see the indents she left behind if you craned your neck. the car ride back to the dorms was the only peace and quiet you kept to yourself. yizhuo would normally be knocked out after such a tiring day and she, understandably, would much rather sleep than annoy her favourite member. you would sneak glances at yizhuo, who was coincidentally sitting next to you, making sure she wouldn’t jolt awake and scare you or anything.

(at least that’s what you told yourself.)

the bumpy ride only caused yizhuo to flinch and shift uncomfortably in her seat, cuddling further into one of the many plushies the fans had given her. you would use this time to stare out the window and admire the serenity of the scenery. when the car hit a particularly rough patch in the road, yizhuo jostled before her head dropped lowly onto your shoulder. you couldn’t even recoil away since you were sitting next to the car door.

“how cute,” aeri teases, pointing at yizhuo who rested soundly. you grit your teeth and scoff, “this wasn’t by choice.”

your quick quips attracted the attention of jimin and minjeong as well, who joined in.

“are you sure you hate her?” minjeong asks mockingly. you clench your fists and make a gesture of punching her. unfazed, she only leans further into her seat and whispers conspiratorially, “she likes you, don’t you know?”

“shut up—”

jimin cuts in, “seriously though, ningie has never paid so much attention to someone before.”

your cheeks redden involuntarily and there’s a conspicuous gulp of saliva that goes down your throat.

“what?!”

“don’t you get it? why ningie only teases you?” aeri questions again, her voice full of intrigue this time. with the members’ stares on you, you can only squeeze your eyes shut and huff loudly, “it’s not like that!”

sighing, aeri turns back to her phone, “sure kid. whatever you wanna tell yourself.”

similar to aeri, minjeong and jimin do the same and indulge in their own conversation while you’re left to ponder about their words.

ning yizhuo who would only steal your pocky. ning yizhuo who would only doodle on your lyric sheets. ning yizhuo who would constantly find some way to make you angry. ning yizhuo who you hated.

you knew she was doing all this to get a reaction out of you but you hadn’t expected it to be for such a reason.

ning yizhuo who only ever wanted your attention.

your entire body flushes at the realisation and you freeze when yizhuo stretches her arms out, waking from her slumber.

“ah— sorry,” she says lowly, her voice raspy from the nap. you don’t bother replying her, scared that your own voice might crack. hiding behind your bangs, you face away.

yizhuo doesn’t take the hint that you physically cannot speak to her right now and she insteads places a hand on your thigh that sends sparks of humiliation throughout your veins, grinning slyly, “your shoulder’s super comfortable. lend it to me some other time, okay?”

🔔 NINGNING just made a post.

with my favourite y/nnie! ☀️💛

see all comments

aerichandesu don’t hog y/n all to yourself 😕

↳ imnotningning she likes me the most.

imwinter i thought i was your favourite?

↳ imnotningning sorry, no.

katarinabluu congrats on the newlyweds~

↳ imnotningning you’re my second favourite!

#aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa #yu karina x reader #yu karina #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader #kim winter x reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x reader #minjeong x reader #giselle x reader #uchinaga aeri x reader #aeri x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #ningning x reader

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rafey-baby · 8 months ago

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outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

c/w: rafe being manipulative, mentions of murder & violence, he’s also weirdly soft in the end? 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

he’s been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

series masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the door at 3 am—revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving while he looks down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg. And at first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.

She’s about to open her mouth— unsure whether to scream for help or simply stare with her mouth hung open in shock, but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting his massive palm over her lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to move a muscle— the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose and making her face scrunch up.

She doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blames it on the fact that half her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland— soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars.

And he’s just so mean, manhandling her to his liking and ordering her around with a gun to her head; grumbling about needing a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught since apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.

“Didn’t mean to kill the guy, alright? He jus’ kept bein’ a bitch ‘n pissin’ me off— I mean, I was, uh, I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?”

However, his explanation seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage; loud enough for him to hear and earning her an exasperated roll of his eyes.

“M’takin’ a shower now ‘n you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do…m’gonna have to— m’gonna hurt you ‘n I don’t wanna do that, okay?”

She merely nods her head, unable to string together a coherent sentence, and he takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he takes a step closer. “You, uh, you live alone?”

She offers another nod of her head.

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knockin’ on your door in the middle of the night you don’t— you don’t fuckin’ open, alright?”

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.

However, the second he’s in the bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think— hurriedly coming up with a rickety plan while she listens to the water streaming behind the door. She waits for only a a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear before she’s bolting towards her bedroom; trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.

Unfortunately, her shaky hands aren’t of any help when they clumsily drop the phone— the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room. And suddenly she can’t breathe.

Her brain short-circuits as she bends down in an attempt to reach for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off— an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she attempts to turn the phone back on and call for help, but it’s proving to be rather difficult since her lungs aren’t working and her heartbeat is ringing in her ears.

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her flinch; a faint gasp leaving her while a shiver travels down her spine.

“Why’d you jus’ do that, huh? Told you I didn’t wanna— didn’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you ‘n then you go ‘n pull this shit,” a strong hand grips her by her throat when he turns her around to face him.

“M’sorry, I— I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, respiration shallow while her blood runs cold.

“You don’t what, hm?” he stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seeming to be entirely indifferent to her torment.

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible.

A grim chuckle bubbles from his chest in response. “Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” he scoffs, cruel words mocking her.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid— want me to kill you? That what you want?” he grits out, squeezing her neck harder; making her feel dizzy.

“No! No, please. M’sorry…m’sorry, won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages out, desperately gasping for air because he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.

“Anythin’ huh? That’s, uh, tha’s real temptin’ ‘n all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you get that?”

“I won’t, I promise. You can, um, stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s going to pass out soon— little stars already peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs beginning to feel heavy.

His coarse panting fills the room while he seems to contemplate her offer. “If you even think about runnin’ to the cops tonight, m’gonna fuckin’ find you, you understand?”

She frantically nods and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back in an attempt to even out her respiration.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— silently observing her while she clears her throat and swallows a few times, trying to pacify her racing heart and the thoughts running around her brain.

Then, she blinks up at him, noticing how he smells like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo— nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.

Once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, she tries a different approach; a nervous hesitation overlaying her creaky question. “What’s, um…what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses her. However, when a small pout begins to mold her mouth the longer she stares at him, he lets out a discontented huff.

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless, and he can’t help but laugh at her priorities— a literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?”

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she figures that if she gets him to talk about something else, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.

“You seriously wanna know?” he raises his brows.

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on a shake of her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“So, uh— what do you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” she tries once more.

“Listen, the less you know, the better, alright?” he states, causing her to let out a soft sigh in defeat when all of a sudden, thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.

She flinches at the sound and the nearly sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.

“You scared of a little storm?” he feigns concern as he peers down at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” the mocking grin plastered on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows—wishing this was all just a really bad nightmare.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After the little incident, Rafe thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.

And he can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered and doted on— to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. It makes him figure he’s gonna enjoy his stay just fine.

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to him— pointing his gun at him.

He lets out a sigh, softened bones mellow from sleep while he rubs at his eyes and shifts to a seated position on the couch— teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. “Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Tryin’ to be all tough now, are we?”

“I— I want you to leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.

And he’s trying to take her seriously, he really is, but it’s proving to be rather difficult when she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should, uh, work on your pitch a little more? M’not very convinced,” the lazy smile tugging at his mouth makes her brows crease.

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face.

He thinks she looks rather adorable. “Come on, pup, you’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” his voice is even, and it makes her hesitate.

“Well…it can’t be that complicated?” it’s more of a question than a statement and he lets out a humored chuckle in response. Her frown deepens.

“Why don’t you give that to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience, would break ya, you’re too soft for that shit.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet, taking a slow step towards her, making her squeeze the weapon tighter in her trembling fingers.

“If— if I give it to you…you’re gonna— you’re gonna kill me and I don’t wanna die,” her words are rushed, hysterical.

His brows furrow. “Who said anythin’ about killin’ you? Listen, if you give me the gun right now, m’not gonna do anythin’. You have my word, okay?” he towers over her, solid chest grazing the barrel.

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.

“I know, pup…but I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a stark contrast to her own when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.

“There we go, no need to be so, uh, so fuckin’ theatrical, yeah?” he lowers his face in order to lock eyes with her. “See? Not hurtin’ you, am I?”

She manages out a hum of agreement, and then her waterline is brimming with salty droplets as she chokes out a sob. “M’sorry. I don’t—”

“Hey, hey s’all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” he says before his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster, and for some reason it only makes her weep harder.

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt while his big paws rub against her back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And she thinks it’s almost…comforting when he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.

“There you go, just, uh, let it all out ‘n maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You pogues can be so fuckin’ dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a fuckin’ crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form before pushing her back to stumble on her feet— setting the gun back onto the coffee table with a clank.

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kurooh · 11 months ago

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EMBARRASSING SEX MOMENTS. [BNHA]

☆ includes: aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, takami keigo, amajiki tamaki.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, crack & cringe.

— izuku is always curious to try new things, and that curiosity is how you ended up fingering his ass while he was on all fours. apparently he had read online that the doggystyle position would help you hit his g-spot. you had helped izuku prep his ass before all of this, and somehow 2 hours of prep wasn’t enough. he was moaning and enjoying it, but unbeknownst to you, he had to fart a little. he assumed it would be harmless, and small. so he trusted it, and ripped ass HARD. the sheer force pushed your fingers out, along with a stream of shit that shot onto your hands. he was so embarrassed :(

— katsuki is an aggressive ass slapper; you ask for some spanking and he makes sure your asscheeks burn by the end of it. sometimes he adds little tiny explosions, which feels good. you like it, especially when he smacks your ass while you ride him. one night, you were riding his cock hard, and he was loud and really into it. “slap my ass, katsu,” you moaned desperately, and he grunted out some sort of understanding. he was gearing up for a hard slap - he couldn’t help it, the feeling of you bouncing up and down on him was deserving of a good one. his palm sparked ever so slightly, and he swung his hand with a ton of force towards your ass but had miscalculated because your ass was moving up, not down. he smacked his balls full force, and made tiny explosions which only added to the pain. you’ve never heard that boy scream until that night. he actually got up and excused himself to grab some water and wiped some tears away. katsuki is very ashamed and gets pissy whenever you bring it up.

— shōtō loves it when you take control. like he always cums so fast when you ride him, and it’s definitely one of his most favorite positions. so, not long after you had both installed a new and beautiful wooden headboard and bed frame, you were on the bed riding him like seabiscuit. he started to grab at your ass, his back arching and his eyes tearing. “oh, i’m gonna cum, please come with me, love.” you nodded, body shaking, but you weren’t sure if you had enough energy left to cum with him since you were a bit tired. before you could register what was happening, he had grabbed onto your hips and started fucking up into you, hard. you gasped, inhaling and choking on your spit, and after one particularly rough thrust, your body jolted forwards and your head rammed into the new headboard.

— as eijirou fingered you and licked your clit, you took his cock deep into your throat, bouncing your ass onto his face for maximum pleasure. he used his free hand to push your head downwards into his crotch more, trying to signal that he was really enjoying the blowjob. he started sucking your clit, and you thought it would be a nice idea to play with his balls. you began to lick and kiss them, but his dick and balls are very sensitive; his legs started to twitch and his knees tried to close but he still didn’t stop sucking your clit. you took this as a positive reaction and started to suck on his balls, maybe a little bit too hard… eiji thrashed under you and bit down on your clit with a muffled shriek. you screamed into his balls and bit them hard. in the end, the both of you held ice packs to your crotches and hoped that the neighbors would not ask about the loud screaming at 2 am.

— denki was pounding you hard in a mating press, moaning loudly and getting really into it. after 3 minutes of fucking, he came inside you and FARTED loudly at the same time. he was extra noisy when he came so maybe the fart added to the pleasure?? but it stunk so bad that you started gagging and pushing away from him while he could barely move from how hard he’d cum. he might’ve shit the bed.

— you and keigo drunkenly stumbled back into your shared apartment after a night flight across the city. you were both incredibly horny, and immediately got on the bed together the second you got into the bedroom. you yanked off your own clothes and his shirt, pushed him down, and straddled his lap. you kissed him, gently biting at his lips and tongue, drawing loud moans from him. you kissed his jawline, his neck, occasionally sucking at the soft skin. “dove,” his voice shook, “i need you so bad.” “mhm,” you mumbled, your whole body close to overheating from the liquor and the heat of the situation. everything was perfect until you began kissing his chest. out of nowhere you were overwhelmed by the liquor, the vodka shots you took kicking the fuck in. you licked his nipples, whining as you moved to give attention to the rest of his pec muscles. you bit down into his skin, sucking hard, almost completely lost in your own world. then you heard shouts of pain and tasted iron. you let go of his skin, ready to apologize, but keigo was so worked up his wings had begun to buffet, and the feathers smacked you right in the face, hard enough to throw you off the bed. you started crying a little because you felt bad for biting as hard as you did, and because your head smacked into the wall during your journey to the floor. he started to cry too, from the pain and because he had thrown you off the bed accidentally. the both of you decided not to have sex that night, and showered together and then went to bed. he has a scar on his tit now.

— tamaki has had many embarrassing moments with you, with the worst occurring in the beginning of the relationship, and then later on. when you’d first had sex together, you weren’t on the pill so you seductively told him you would put the condom on his dick. you tore it open with your teeth to impress him (it worked), and then grabbed his base just right, and began rolling the condom down his cock. he came, and the condom wasn’t even all the way on. secondly, he was fucking you doggy style, and was really into it. moaning, groaning, all that. tamaki went to slap your ass, but some of the wires in his brain got crossed and he slapped his OWN ASS. he did it hard enough for the sound to stop both of you in your tracks.

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moon7jay · 1 year ago

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Carnal (p.sh)

Warnings : stepcest, dubcon, sunghoon is a pervert, sex tape, cum eating, just filth tbh, porn without plot

a/n: Im functioning on 2 hours of sleep so it's not proofread,there might be some errors,pls ignore them. reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡

"fuck, just like that " sunghoon groaned, squeezing himself from above his boxers, his red rimmed eyes tethered to the passionate sex scene playing on his laptop screen.

His breathing was heavy, pupils dilated as he watched the man's dick assault the bounded woman's pussy, coming out covered in white cum juices. She was trying to get away from him, but the restraints were not letting her. She had no choice but to take it.

Fuck. He needed sex.

As Sunghoon rubbed his clothed dick, sighing at the delicious friction, his mind drifted off to you.

Pink.

He swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth and reached across the table to open his hidden drawer. Rummaging impatiently with one hand while his other was busy touching himself, sunghoon groaned when he found the one thing that he was looking for. The pink lace underwear in his hand was old and dirty with cum stains. Sunghoon knew that he was responsible for its sorry state. That's what he gets for jerking off in it like an animal anytime you so much as smiled at him.

But he wasn't the only one to blame. You were equally responsible for fueling his perverted tendencies. Prancing around the house in your short little pink skirts. Sunghoon was never the one to go for hyperfeminine women but turns out you were an exception. With your pink bows and pink gloss and pink skirts and pink tops, you were like the sweetest candy that was waiting to be bitten into and tasted. sunghoon craved you with every fibre of his being.

The fact that you were forbidden only increased his desire tenfold. You were his step sister for fuck's sake but his dick throbbed at the mere sight of you. Blasphemous. But who cared? Not HIM.

Sunghoon buried his nose in your panties in hopes of inhaling your addicting scent but groaned in frustration instead. It no longer smelled like you. Fucking hell.

He was drunk and horny and you were the only thing running laps across his mind. He wanted to bury himself into your tight little body. Now.

Sunghoon briefly paused his ministrations and listened for the football match still playing in the living room across the hallway. the volume was loud enough that his parents would not be able to hear the nasty sounds of fucking from your room. He quickly shut down his laptop and tredged his way to your room right across from his own. His dick hung long and heavy in between in legs, straining painfully against his boxer briefs.

Your door was ajar, like always, a careless habit of yours that had given sunghoon countless opportunities to sneak inside and act out his perverse desires.

But he'd never gone this far. Never gone as far as to actually touch you. As he watched your scantily covered body resting so sinfully against the pink sheets, an inexplicable heat spread throughout his limbs. His body worked faster than his brain and he reached inside his back pocket to take out the handcuffs he'd picked up from his room. quickly setting up his phone right across from your bed , sunghoon hastily took off his boxers, ready to ravage you the entire night.

You stirred up when you felt a heavy weight settle onto your body, you tried moving your hands, mumbling and squirming in your sleep but your hands refused to move. Something was holding them down. A sharp pain in between your legs punched a gasp out of your chest, your eyes flying open at the sudden intrusion into your body, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your bleary eyes met sunghoon's who was breathing uncharacteristically heavy on top of you. Tears gathered at your waterline, the sting in your lower region spreading throughout your pelvis. your core was throbbing from his cock tearing through your hymen so mercilessly. you tried to free your bound hands, but to no avail.

"Wh-what are you doing" you asked with wobbly lips but sunghoon's eyes were dark and unseeing as he stared into yours. You had never seen him like this before. "Gonna use you to satisfy my dick" he whispered and started pistoning his dick in and out of you. A pained moan left your lips as his thick dick dragged against your dry gummy walls. You could have screamed and begged him to stop, but you'd be lying if you said that you'd didn't dream of this every single night. Your step brother was hot and he made you hot. Your mother had kept you away from boys your entire life, so you had never given much thought to your sexual desires, never indulging in pleasures of the flesh. But all of that changed when sunghoon came into the picture.

He grabbed your wet cheeks and stuck his tongue inside your mouth forcefully, tasting your hot mouth with a fervent passion. You moaned and arched into his touch as he began pounding into you. His lips were harsh on your pillowy ones, his tongue moving languidly inside your warm cavity. The pain mixed with pleasure made you sob, your fingers curling around the handcuffs around your wrists.

"God , always wanted to fuck your virgin little pussy, waited for so fucking long" he moaned into your mouth. You pushed your chest up against him as he rotated his hips in a circular motion, grinding into your cervix, his cockhead rubbing and poking your g spot in a delicious rut. "h-hurts" you cried, your pussy struggling to fit him inside, the stretch was too painful.

"Mhmm bet it does baby" he panted on your face and reached down to rub against your clit to make your pussy wetter. the stimulation against your sensitive bud made you squeal and thrash under him. You sobbed as the pain started turning into sweet pleasure, your pussy began to drool, wet sounds coming from the continuous collision of his pelvis with yours. His teeth dug into your lower plump lip with an intention to hurt, your red swollen mouth was too tempting for sunghoon to resist.

"You feel so much better than my hand baby, fuck, so hot and tight" His fingers dug into your soft waist, bruising the flesh with his harsh grip while his thrusts became faster, the headboard now slamming against the wall. A fleeting thought of your parents came into your mind but you weren't able to dwell on it for long, the heat spreading inside your pussy overshadowing every other thought. His hand left your clit and he folded your body into half. He cursed upon seeing your fucked out face, your tongue hanging out while drool escaped your mouth. Fuck. Sunghoon's palms moved up to grope your chest, pinching and twisting your pert nipples painfully from above your flimsy nighty, a whine leaving your lips at his actions.

"we could do this all day baby, you just have to keep quiet and we could-mhmm god-fuck all day" His hands slid down to press upon your abdomen, eyes rolling back upon tracing his own cock through the bulge in your tummy.

"B-but it's wrong" You mewled, your toes curling when he applied more pressure on your lower stomach. He bent down to nibble on your earlobe, his thick dick reaching deeper in this new angle. "Yeah, it's so fucking wrong baby, you shouldn't be drooling around your step brother's dick like a slut" He grunted into your ear and grinded his groin against yours. The Squelching sounds resonating in the room were disgusting but so, so hot, your sweaty bodies rutting against each other to reach carnal pleasure.

Sunghoon pulled all the way out and thrusted inside, snapping his hips into your cunt again and again. Your silky walls wrapped around him so snugly, his breath coming out in harsh pants. "Nasty little girl, what will your mom think if she found you bouncing on my dick like this?" His dirty words made you cry out in disgust mixed with arousal. He swore under his breath upon feeling you clench on his dick. You felt So wet and So fucking tight, he swore he could taste heaven at the top of his tongue. he watched your legs flailing around while he forced himself into your tight hole repeatedly, without mercy, the sight so erotic that he could feel his orgasm approaching. He was pounding you into the sheets furiously, all the pent up sexual tension causing havoc on your cervix. You tried to stifle your moans but he was too big and too rough for your tiny, inexperienced body. The pace of his hips became faster and harsher, his grunts and groans reaching a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls ready to burst.

"Take my dick baby, take it like a fucking whore" he punched out with a few more thrusts, his hips stuttering and then stilling inside of you all at once, filling you full of his hot cum. "Ah fuckk fuck" He moaned through his orgasm, he was cumming so much, his hips still moving back and forth. Before you knew it, he began thrusting into you again, your cries of pleasure turning him into an insatiable beast.

"cant stop fucking this cunt" He groaned and started edging you, angling his hips in such a way that it felt good but not enough to make you cum. Your eyes were blurry and you started sobbing in frustration, moving your hips up to grind against his dick. His calloused palms held your waist and helped you move your hips on him, stilling his movements while he watched you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Your eyes were dizzy with pleasure, small whimpers falling from your swollen lips, but you couldn't stop rotating your hips, thrusting upwards to make his dick reach your delicious spots. Sunghoon clenched his jaw at the sight of his cum leaking out of your hungry hole while he was still buried inside you. the way your arms struggled against the handcuffs above your head while your hips chased his hard cock was driving him crazy in lust. You looked like his fucking wet dream.

"Yeah, keep fucking it baby, fuck it like it's yours" He grunted, moving your body back and forth on his dick like a fleshlight. It felt too good, his dick throbbing inside your warm pussy. He wanted to start fucking you again but his pervert instincts took over instead. You whined in disappointment as he pulled out of your needy whole, your pussy trying to suck him back in. You watched in confusion while sunghoon came back to the bed with his phone, he turned on your tv which was set up right across your bed and connected his device to it. reaching above you to free your hands, he threw the handcuffs to the side.

You hissed and rubbed against the red marks on your wrists, freezing mid movement when you heard moans coming from your tv screen. Your moans, specifically. Your wide eyes turned towards the tv and you saw yourself. Saw your own body tied up to the bed as sunghoon pushed himself inside of you, rutting against you while you cried. In disbelief, you looked over to sunghoon and gulped at the scene in front of you. His hand was wrapped around his thick dick, jerking off to the footage of you two having sex. Hot arousal rushed through your lower body and your hand moved down to apply pressure to your throbbing clit. You should have been angry at the fact that you had been recorded without your consent, but you didn't think sunghoon cared much about consent and its synonyms.

"Fuck yeah" sunghoon groaned, this was hotter than any porn he had ever wanked off to. The way your tiny body struggled underneath his big one on the screen, his dick moving in and out of you without mercy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while his hips clenched as he fucked into you passionately. All of it was too much. He could see you rubbing your clit, getting off to the obscene sounds on your tv. He squeezed his tip and cursed "fuck baby make yourself cum, it's so fucking hot isn't it?"

You nodded and whined, your moans overlapping with the moans coming from the speaker. Too good, it felt too good. You rubbed your clit faster, looking to the side to watch sunghoon jerk off furiously. His palm moved up and down, playing with his own balls, his entire chest covered in a sheen of sweat. "Im-im so close" you whined and he groaned, watching you gather his cum out of your abused hole with your free hand and suck onto your fingers, basically slurping on his cum. "Oh my fucking god " He sighed, his own eyes closing shut at the pleasure.

The Squelching sounds on the screen mixed with the filthy sounds of you both masturbating like perverts pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a damn train, your back arched off the bed while you kept rubbing yourself to ride your high. The filthy taste of sunghoon's cum on your tongue was too good. Sunghoon came just moments later, eyes fixated on your swollen pussy, spilling all over his palms and thighs "oh yeah, shit shit shit" he hissed while he rubbed himself raw.

Small sighs of pleasure and satisfaction filled the space between your heated bodies. As you both came down from your mind blowing orgasms, the bodies continued rutting against each other on the screen. It was starting to get hot again. The passion permeating your senses. You squirmed and met sunghoon's eyes which were already set on you. They were dark and blown in lust. Before you could say anything, he was hovering over your spent body again, rubbing his cockhead against your swollen clit, making you whimper in overstimulation.

"let's fuck while we watch us fuck"

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x you

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riddlesbunny · 8 months ago

Text

out of the woods

summary: The war is over and Rhaenyra’s daughter gets a fresh start in The North.

pairing: Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, grief, RIP Jace <\3

note: Sooo……. It appears that I’m in Cregan Simp Mode

It is a brighter day than usual when your labors start. The sun even begins to peak behind the clouds, casting a gorgeous gleam over Winterfell. It has been six months since the civil war between your family has ended and it seems as though the smoke-like grief that clouds your mind is finally beginning to clear. After all of your pain and suffering, you are now far away from Dragonstone and even farther away from King’s Landing. As your younger brother sits the Iron Throne, you have a hope for a peaceful realm. As well as hope that you and Cregan will finally be able to start anew.

Things are different in Winterfell, especially now that the dance has ended. There is no pressure for your babe to have silver hair or violet eyes. No pressure for it to be born with a cock. All that matters is that the babe is healthy. Your child will not suffer the same hardships as you and your siblings once did.

You can hear heavy footsteps outside of the chamber as Cregan paces restlessly. While you endure another hour of labor, you try to keep your mind elsewhere. Your gaze is fixed on the flicker of the candle that sits in the chandelier above your head.

One of your earlier memories is your mother being in labor with Joffrey. You remember wincing at her screams and placing judgement on the names she called her midwives. Now you don’t blame her. You even admire her for going through this so many times. You miss her terribly.

Your hand grips tightly onto the wooden headboard as you try your hardest to listen to the instructions of your midwife.

“Push into the pain,” she advises you, “when the pain is at its worst, that’s when you will want to push the hardest, my lady.”

Your knees are at your chest, a thin layer of sweat covers your entire body, and your once white nightgown is now stained red. You inhale deeply as you brace yourself for another painful contraction.

And just like that, it’s happening again. It begins as a dull ache in your spine that eventually overtakes you completely. It feels as if you were being torn to shreds. Your muscles begin to spasm and each wave of pain is worse than the last.

A particularly loud scream echoes out into the hallway and it has Cregan bursting through the door into the room, his auburn brows furrowed.

“This is not the place for men, my Lord,” your midwife sternly warns him.

“I do not care! What’s happened?”

“Nothing!” you bark at him, your teeth gritted. This is a pain he is unable to comprehend.

“I’m fine, we’re fine. It just hurts. That’s all.”

Cregan frowns at you as he comes to stand at your side.

“My lord—” your midwife tries to interject once again.

“I’m staying.”

He keeps true to his word and remains at your side for the rest of your labor, despite your midwife’s wishes — earning him many dirty looks.

Another painful contraction comes and the pain is mind blowing. But it seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. You bring your chin down to your chest and push with all of your might. You push as if your life depends on it, because it does.

“That’s it, my lady! Perfect. I can see the babe already, a full head of hair,” she states.

Just when you swear you cannot push anymore, you feel sudden relief and loud cries fill the room.

“It’s a boy,” your midwife declares, and Cregan squeezes onto your hand tightly.

“And he is one healthy pup! With quite the set of lungs!” she adds.

About an hour later, once you are moved from the birthing bed and all cleaned up, you sit in your large bed that you and Cregan share. Your babe is cozily bundled up and suckling at your breast, his tiny gums gnawing at your flesh.

“Do we have a name for him?” Cregan asks you as he comes to take solace beside you, peering down at the tiny babe.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” you reply, your mind still hazy, your heart full, “did you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking… he holds a striking resemblance to your brother. What do you think?”

You glance down at your newborn son. An angelic face matched with tiny wisps of dark hair that threaten to grow into a thick head of curls.

“Oh,” you coo, “yeah… yeah, he does, doesn’t he?”

Cregan smiles widely at you, in a way that makes your heart want to burst right out of your chest.

You and Cregan both held great love for Jacaerys. It was something you bonded over when you were first getting to know one another. After spending so much time with him at the beginning of the dance, Cregan began to care for Jace as if he was a brother of his own.

“So it’s settled then,” he states with pride, “we’ll call him Jacaerys.”

“Jacaerys,” you breathe out in agreement as your husband places as gentle kiss on your forehead.

#cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark fluff #cregan stark x you #cregan x you #cregan x targaryen!reader #cregan stark x strong!reader #cregan stark fic #cregan stark oneshot #hotd #house of the dragon #tom taylor #cregan x y/n #cregan imagine #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #dad!cregan #dad!cregan stark

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xbellaxcarolinax · 2 years ago

Note

imagine Miguel and trying to stay quiet but he’s hell bent on getting you to make noise for him so he starts working HARDER and biting you to get you to moan for him — 🥵🥵🥵

Hope you like <3

NSFW under the cut

...

You wanted to scream, your throat tight with pressure.

You fought to keep it together, slapping a hand over your mouth while you obediently bounced on Miguel’s cock. This position was always a mission, your thighs spread a little too wide to accommodate him, his large cock reaching parts deep within you that you didn't know were possible.

He had a bruising hold on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you at the speed he wanted.

“Too quiet,” he grunted in protest, eyes trained on your face, “you know I hate it when you’re quiet.”

“Y-you know damn well why I’m quiet.” You argued weakly, your hands flying to grip his shoulders tightly, nails biting into his tanned skin. You tossed your head back at a particularly intense thrust, chest heaving and pussy throbbing with need and arousal.

Miguel made a noise of disapproval at your words, brows furrowed as he concentrated, his hand now roaming to grasp one of your tits.

“Don’t care.” Of course, he didn’t.

You were in one of the restrooms at HQ, shoved into a stall that barely held enough space for the width of Miguel’s broad shoulders, let alone the both of you for a quick fuck session. It was a tight fit, even when he sat on the lid of the toilet, forcing you over his lap with a simple tug of your waist.

Not the most convenient place to be in a compromising position.

“Y-you should,” you whimpered, biting your lip at the delicious stretch of him, “a-anyone could walk in and hear.”

“Don’t care,” he repeated roughly, his red eyes observing the way you were creaming over his cock, “wanna hear you.” He grabbed you by the nape suddenly, pressing you against him so that he had complete access to your pretty neck.

He began to nose at the skin, inhaling the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweat of the current activity, before sucking a bruise. You moaned as he nibbled at your neck, gently at first, tugging and licking before he got the mark to his desired shade. The area bloomed with color, bright red, and angry.

“That’s it,” he cooed, grinning against your neck when more whimpers fell from your lips, “let me hear you." You choked out a moan, biting your lip as he continued to spear you in all the right ways, his hands gripping the bottom of your thighs to easily lift you up, only to slam you back down again.

You arms snaked around his sweat slicked shoulders, your fingers gripping his hair as you cried out—finally—your achy cunt coating you both in your slick.

"Fuck," you cried, your eyes glazing over with tears, his cock hitting the perfect spot, "M-miguel!"

He hummed, licking a stripe down your neck before sinking his fangs into you, piercing through your skin at a superficial level, but he knew it'd be enough.

You came with a loud moan, gushing all over his cock, your juices running down his length and over his thighs. He didn't stop bouncing you on his cock, chasing his own pleasure. Your slick pussy pulsated over him, the wetness helping to glide easily in and out of you.

"Fuck," he groaned, licking the metallic taste off your neck as he came deep inside, shoving his hips tightly against yours, "goddamn."

You dropped your forehead on his shoulder, catching your breath. Your hips ached from the position and you knew you'd be feeling the ache of your muscles and cunt for a few days.

Miguel removed his hold from under your thighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. He felt your rapid heart beat on his chest and smiled, nuzzling his face in your hair.

"Oi!" Hobie's distinct voice echoed into the restroom, "you both done havin' a shag?" You went rigid in Miguel's arms, shrinking against his chest in pure mortification.

"Fuck off, Hobie," Miguel growled, slamming a fist against the wall of the stall to make a point.

"Just tryin' to wash my hands boss." he chuckled, his boots squeaking under the linoleum floors. The faucet goes off for a moment, then the paper towel dispenser before Hobie leaves. "Clean up after yourselves, yeah?"

You groaned when you heard the bathroom door swing closed, keeping yourself tight against Miguel as if he’d shield you from the embarrassment. His cock was nestled comfortably inside you, some of his seed slipping out as it softened.

“I hate you,” you said with no bite, your words muffled by his skin. You heard him breathe deeply before he pressed a kiss over your hair.

“I hate you, too.” He said affectionately.

#ask response #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine

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ramonathinks · 8 months ago

Text

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference.

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you.

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that.

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis.

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit.

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position.

Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.”

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you.

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought.

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.”

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes.

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below. Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards.

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.”

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him.

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked.

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come.

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down.

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound. “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you.

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center.

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it.

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up.

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

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