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omgkatherine01 · 3 days ago

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Beauty of A Dragon (Aemond Targaryen One Shot)

Summary: Your twin brother comes for you at night.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen reader

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Warning: Incest, Smut.

Aemond had been Prince Regent for a few months now, and although the Valyrian steel of the Conqueror’s crown didn’t rest upon his head yet, it was now an undeniable fact to every member of the realm that he had been born for this. All could finally witness his real worth, his superiority and how good he was at being a commander, a King.

No, he excelled at it. The Blacks haven’t even dared to approach King’s Landing even once in the last few months, and under his command all fear him, all obey him. He was far better at this than his father ever was, than his older sister ever will be, and certainly than his broken brother is, tucked in his bed.

His new duties obliged him to be away often, to ride Vhagar and lead his armies on the usurpers who wanted to decimate them and take his city, but when he was back in the Red Keep, all he sees is you.

His twin sister.

He walked into your chambers using the secret tunnels, and saw you by your bed, pulling down your robes to go to bed.

He approached silently from behind you, but you could sense him. You looked at him over your shoulder and smirked lightly, "Nice try."

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound low and intoxicating in the stillness of the night. “You always were too sharp for your own good, sister,” he replied, stepping closer, the heat radiating from his body wrapping around you like a cloak.

With a practiced ease, he moved to the side of your bed, leaning against the ornate post, his sapphire eye glinting with mischief and hunger. You turned fully to face him, your heart racing at the sight of him—tousled hair framing his angular face, lips slightly parted as though they had just whispered secret promises.

"Are you disappointed now?" you teased softly as you stepped closer to his body. He hummed, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, lavishing it with a hungry touch of his lips.

His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Disappointed? Not in the slightest,” he murmured, his words laced with an intoxicating blend of desire and mischief. “In fact, I find it quite the opposite.”

Aemond’s arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between the two of you. The world outside faded into a distant memory; it was just you and him amidst the flickering candlelight of your chamber, where shadows danced around you like whispers of longing.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, an unspoken invitation that made his fingers twitch with eagerness. He nipped at the delicate skin there, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. “You know I can’t resist you,” he growled lowly, his voice thick with want.

Together you collapsed onto the plush bed, laughing breathlessly as he landed beside you. His fingers traced the delicate outline of your jaw, moving down to your collarbone, igniting a trail of heat wherever he touched. “You’re too tempting for your own good, sister,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as though sharing an intimate secret meant only for you.

Your heart raced in response, the thrill of having him so close overpowering the weight of propriety that lingered like a shadow in the corner. “And yet, here we are,” you whispered back, your own fingers slipping through his hair, tugging him closer still until his lips hovered just above yours.

He captured your mouth with fervor, kissing you with a hunger that had been building during his long absences. The taste of him was intoxicating; a mix of heat and desire that left you breathless, yearning for more. Aemond pulled away for just a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged softly, though you both knew it was a challenge neither of you wished to accept.

“I would never,” you breathed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze. Aemond's lips curled into a smirk, a predator reveling in the thrill of the chase.

With that unspoken understanding, he captured your mouth again, deeper this time, as if he intended to draw every breath from your lungs. His hands explored your body with a fervency that set your skin alight; fingers skimming down the curve of your waist, over the swell of your hips, igniting every nerve in their path.

“Gods, how I’ve missed this,” he whispered against your lips, before trailing kisses down the side of your neck. Each brush of his mouth sent delightful shivers coursing through you, a beautiful torture that made you arch against him instinctively.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as if you could meld into him completely. “And I you,” you confessed breathlessly.

Aemond's hand slid beneath your robes, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. You shivered at his touch, arching into him as he explored the curves of your body with a reverent hunger. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless and aching for more.

With practiced ease, he unlaced your robes, peeling them away to reveal your naked form beneath. His eye roamed over you appreciatively, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory. "Beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with desire. "Always so beautiful."

You reached for him, tugging at his own clothing with impatient hands. He chuckled softly, helping you remove the layers until he was as bare as you.

Aemond's scarred body pressed against yours, skin to skin, as his lips found yours once more. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a passionate duel as his hands roamed your curves. You arched into his touch, fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest and back.

He trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point. A soft moan escaped your lips as he lavished attention on your breasts, tongue swirling around each nipple. His hand slid lower, caressing your inner thigh before finding your wet heat. You gasped as he stroked you, building the pleasure with practiced skill.

"Please, Aemond," you whimpered, hips rocking against his hand. He smirked against your skin before positioning himself between your thighs. With one smooth thrust, he entered you fully, both of you groaning in unison. The sensation of him filling you, of the heat and hardness of his body pressed against yours, was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Aemond's hips began to move in a hard, demanding rhythm, driving himself deeper inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into the comforter, the pleasure building within you like an inferno waiting to blaze out of control. His name escaped your lips on a gasp as he angled his hips just so, hitting that delicious spot deep within.

"That's it," he growled in your ear. "Let me hear you moan for me, sister."

His words only served to fan the flames of desire coursing through your veins. With each movement, Aemond brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—heavy breathing, moans of pleasure, and the rustling of sheets tangled around entwined limbs.

As the rhythm of your bodies intensified, Aemond's lips found yours again in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips continued their relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside you. The new angle drew a guttural moan from Aemond's throat.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he panted against your neck.

Your fingers raked down his back as waves of pleasure washed over you. Every nerve ending felt electrified. Aemond's muscular body moved above you with fluid grace, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the candlelight. You marveled at the raw power contained in his lithe form.

He shifted slightly, bracing himself on one arm while his other hand snaked between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves and began trailing exquisite circles that sent you spiraling further into bliss. You gasped, the sensations overwhelming as pleasure built like a raging storm inside you.

"Aemond," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of your need. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, those piercing violet eyes darkened with lust and fierce determination.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, an order wrapped in velvet. You complied willingly, locking your eyes onto his as the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, lost in this moment, this tempest that had long been brewing between siblings forged by fire and fate.

He quickened his pace, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the chamber. Each movement ignited sparks beneath your skin; every brush of his fingers brought another wave of pleasure crashing over you. Aemond's breath became ragged as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours as if seeking the solace that only you could provide. “I want to feel you come undone for me,” he murmured, his voice thick and heated, vibrating through both of you.

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body as he moved with unrelenting intensity. The tension coiling in your core grew tighter, winding around your heart like a serpent ready to strike. You could feel the familiar spark gathering, becoming a blazing inferno ready to consume you whole.

“No one else,” you gasped, the thought of anyone else in this moment felt sacrilegious. “Only you.” The declaration felt primal and raw, binding you both in a way that transcended the physical realm.

Aemond’s eyes flashed with something fierce at your promise, his movements growing more desperate, more possessive. He captured your mouth again in a kiss that was both claiming and tender—a reminder of who you were to each other amidst the chaos of the outside world. Aemond poured every ounce of himself into the kiss, each thrust echoing the rhythm of your hearts beating as one. You surrendered completely to him, your body arching upwards to meet his every move, urging him deeper, higher.

“Feel me, sister,” he breathed against your lips, the words a command and a plea. “Let go.”

With every stroke, you could feel the storm inside you reaching its peak—an avalanche of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. It built and built, swallowing you whole until there was nothing left but the two of you entwined in passion.

Aemond's fingers worked their magic, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through you. “That’s it,” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with possessiveness, as if he were staking a claim not just on your body, but on your very soul. “Let it go.”

His intensity drove you onwards until with a final thrust, the dam broke, and you were swept away in a tide of ecstasy. The world around you shattered into a million brilliant fragments as the pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. Your cries filled the chamber, echoing off the stone walls, intertwining with Aemond’s deep groans as he followed you over the precipice.

Your body convulsed beneath him, waves of bliss crashing over you like a violent sea—each pulse igniting a fire that burned brightly in your core. Aemond’s grip on you tightened, his own release flooding through him in tandem with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of sensations that left you both gasping for breath.

As the intensity of your shared climax began to ebb, Aemond's movements slowed to a gentle rhythm. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you panting softly as you basked in the afterglow. The air around you felt charged, crackling with the energy of your passion.

Aemond's eye met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in its depths. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek with surprising tenderness. "My beautiful sister," he murmured, voice husky. "My Queen."

You shivered at his words, feeling the truth of them resonate deep within you. Whatever crowns or thrones awaited outside these chamber walls, here in this moment, you ruled together absolutely.

Slowly, reluctantly, Aemond withdrew from you. But he didn't move far, instead gathering you close against his chest. You nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounded you in this turbulent world. The warmth of his skin against yours was a soothing balm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the intimacy of these quiet moments together.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #one shot #aemond oneshot

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ylangelegy · 22 hours ago

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is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.”

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell.

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you.

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.”

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily.

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you.

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument.

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter.

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.”

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in.

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—”

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong.

You break away from him.

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?”

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue.

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that.

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after.

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff.

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved.

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night.

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears.

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely.

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin.

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face.

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt.

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low.

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall.

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets.

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—"

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to.

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him.

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear.

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication.

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there.

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command.

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back.

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes.

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately.

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—”

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts.

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his.

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words.

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing.

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you��re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little.

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous.

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.”

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure.

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you.

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them.

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane.

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp.

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you.

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this.

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems.

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow.

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night.

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung."

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol.

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

"You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone.

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one.

#seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #➤ ylangelegy: mine #➤ ylangelegy: svt #( am i happy with this ? not ... entirely! but it's here! LOL )#( i think i've mentioned once before that i'm not very good at smut so this was dizzying )#( but it's also The longest svt fic i have in my drafts. i just cant be assed [yet] to beta it )#( anyway.... enjoy [???] <3 )

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kamiversee · 22 hours ago

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

11 | what this is

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, heavy sexual tension, teasing, taunting, possessiveness, jealous men, drama, toxicity, alcohol, tw; spitting, dirty talk, dry humping, tw: mean cliffhanger (sorry not sorry lol), etc...

❧ Word Count | 6.1k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Whispering near your lips, Choso had taken a step even closer to you and placed his gloved hand upon the right side of your waist.

Then he tugged you closer as if to emphasize his words, “Cat got your tongue, princess? Or, what, are you replaying our moments together?” You were. “Am I finally occupying your mind again?” Choso utters even lower than before as he takes your chin into his other hand and tips your head up—causing your lips to actually brush against his. “C’mon, talk to me, argue with me, say something-, anything.”

Your voice comes out airy and you hate the way he seems to have you all wrapped around his finger. “Y-You’re insufferable.” With tense brows and a body that unfortunately won’t move against his hold, you gape at him with this burning feeling on your skin at his every touch.

Choso smiles, “Was I insufferable while I was riiight…” The hand on your waist slides over to your stomach and his thumb presses just below your belly button, “Here? Hm?” He applies a bit more pressure there and you gasp. “Or, again, do you only ever think of me when Gojo denies you of sex?”

“No, Choso. It’s not like that,” You huff out, despite the flashbacks replaying in your mind and the tingle that just ran up your spine. “You just… Every conversation with you now revolves around one thing; sex. It’s all you ever bring up with me and I am tired of it, okay? I’ve told you no and yet you keep trying—“

“You keep letting me try,” He cuts off rudely, sliding his thumb up to your bottom lip. “Even right now, you’ve yet to smack my hands away or even tell me to stop touching you. I wonder why that is.”

Well, shit. You can’t even explain it yourself. Maybe it’s because deep down inside you know that you and Choso’s relationship has always been like this. You’ve always let him tease and taunt you to degrees that know no end. From the day you first met to now, you still can’t find it in you to pull yourself away from his touch.

You prove his point instantly with the way you let him slip his thumb in between your glossed lips, watching the way he smiles slightly at the sight. “I know you don’t have any feelings for me but,” Choso pressed his thumb down on your bottom row of teeth just a bit, allowing your lips to part open and for your breaths to mingle with one another. “Your body damn sure does.”

Ever so softly, you whine. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

“‘Course I did, baby. I get it, I bring the sex up all the time but can you really blame me?” Yes. “You ‘n I have almost gotten to that point how many times before it actually happened?” He asks rhetorically, “And then, the only reason it finally happened is because of this lil’ crush you have on Gojo?? Hah, why would I stop trying when I know you don’t want me to?”

The daggers you're shooting him via gaze seem not to phase him in the slightest. Maybe, just maybe, he had a point here. You hated the way he was reading through you right now, knowing you couldn’t really argue with him. No matter what you say, your body language will always be your truth. Even now as he allows his eyes to glide down to your lips that are practically on his, you can hardly even form a thought to tell yourself to pull away.

Tell him to stop. Tell him to go away. Tell him to let go of you and leave you the hell alone. That’s what you want, isn’t it??

…So why are you letting him slide his thumb out your mouth and gently force your lips into a pout? Why do you let him move both of his hands to your waist and hold you like he’s your boyfriend or something? And why, just why, do you let him press his lips against yours so faintly that it’s almost as though he didn’t just kiss you??

“You're not dating him,” Choso reminds you—which stings because you wish you were. Maybe then you’d find it in you to tell Choso to back off. “So like, if you simply don’t want me at all, jus’ say that.”

You can’t. Physically, mentally, whatever-the-fuck-lly, you cannot find it anywhere in yourself to tell Choso Kamo that you don’t want him in any way. Perhaps it was because of the crush you had on him years ago. Maybe those teenage feelings never really died off like you thought they did and now they’ve returned in the worst way possible.

It sucks because you know in your head you don’t want to date Choso. You know you want to go be with Gojo. But there’s just this little void space in between all of that in which you’re conflicted. Call you Hannah Montana with the way you want the best of both worlds.

You want the affection you receive from both men simultaneously.

But, at the same time, you don’t. At the same time, all you can do is replay Gojo’s smile in your head, his voice, his touches, his tenderness, and then it all just feels right. With Choso there’s just this constant battle you’re fighting where it feels so wrong but so damn good at the same time.

“I can’t,” You eventually mutter, finally turning your head off to the side. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Cho. I just… I told you before I’m—“

“Woahhhhh,” Another, terrifyingly familiar voice comes bursting into the kitchen. At the sound of it, your body is motionless and you’re lucky Choso swiftly slides his hands off of you to shove them into his pockets. “What’s goin’ on in heree?” Gojo’s slightly slurred tone hits your ear and your eyes are wafting away from Choso in search.

You end up tipping your body to the side to spot Gojo stumbling his way deeper into the kitchen. The button-up shirt he's got on beneath the vest he’s wearing is unbuttoned significantly lower than before and you note how his cheeks are reddened more.

Choso looks back at the guy from over his shoulder, not making an effort to remove the distance between your body and his whatsoever. Your eyes rake over your crush's staggering frame and you quickly note that he’s drunk.

Or at least, you thought he was until his eyes were setting on you peeking around Choso’s body and how close you were to the guy. From Gojo’s angle of view, he could tell your body was practically pressed up against Choso’s. The two of you didn’t have any hands on one another by the time he gathered the sight but the proximity alone was enough to sober him up for a moment.

The lazy smile Gojo had on his face flickered slightly as he took long strides over to the two of you. His next actions are smooth. Gojo brushes past Choso but hooks an arm around your waist in the process, soon finding himself standing on your right side and pulling you up close to him. Choso lets his eyes trail Gojo and his possessive little movements, cocking an irritated grin at the sight.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Gojo asks Choso, sizing him up and down. Suddenly, there’s less of a slur to his words in comparison to moments before.

Choso has to clench his jaw a bit to bite back every snarky response that nearly rolled off of his tongue just now. Desperately does he want to tell Gojo about how this isn’t the first time he’s interrupted something intimate with you. Last time you and Choso were about to have sex again before he came knocking on the apartment door and now he had interrupted you in explaining your feelings to Choso.

So, to hold himself back, Choso scoffs in Gojo’s face and looks off to the side. “Nah man, you’re fine.” He replies dryly. The next thing that leaves his lips is a bit of an accident but he just can’t help himself, “Me ‘n her live together so I’m sure we can continue our talk later, right?” Choso asks with a glance at you.

You can feel Gojo’s fingers gripping onto your waist a little tighter as if to silently tell you something. Whatever it is though, you’re unsure of. “Right,” You murmur softly.

Gojo’s brows rise in interest. “You two were pretty close to each other just now for a convo that’s bein’ saved for later…” He points out.

“We’ve been closer,” Choso regrettably snaps back. Fuck, you even see the recoil on his face as his eyes squeeze shut for a second, clearly regretting the words that just left him.

Drunk or not, the gears in Gojo’s head begin to grind. He’s not stupid, far from it, so he can infer the implications behind such a statement. Lucky for you, the alcohol in his system does interfere with him jumping to the right assumptions. “Yeah? I’m sure you guys have,” Gojo says, looking down at you, “You two have been friends for uh,” He clicks his tongue, “Eight years, no?”

“Just about,” Choso replies for you, both of their eyes set on you.

You gulp and try to play off how nervous you are with a slight chuckle. Then you turn more into Gojo and distract him with a hug. Placing your chin on his chest, you angle your head up to look at him, “What’re you doin’ in here anyways? I thought you went to go sit down?”

Just the sight of you hugging Gojo and staring up at him is enough to piss Choso off albeit clearly unintentional.

Gojo, who oddly adores Choso's audience at the moment, places his hands on your sides, exactly where Choso’s touch was just a few seconds before he came into the kitchen. “I did but then Suguru found me and wanted me to take some shots with him. Right after that, I started missin’ you sooo, I came to find ya’.” He explains with this doting look in his eyes.

You smile, “Aw, you really do get clingy when drunk, huh?”

“I tried to warn you,” Gojo snickers softly before leaning down.

He was moving to kiss you. You don’t know why but you panic.

Choso’s still standing there quietly waiting for you two to remember his presence, watching the whole thing and… seeing things you don’t.

Now, if you pulled away from Gojo, he would have known something was up so, you don’t. Because of that and the way your eyes shut to allow him to kiss you, you miss the way Gojo keeps his eyes open just to glare at Choso while his lips slot onto yours.

Choso meets said glare and his heart aches in his chest. Every thought of his is screaming to blurt out the fact that he’s done exactly what Gojo’s doing now, years before Gojo even knew who you were. Choso wants to throw it in Gojo’s face how he’s seen the expressions you make when you’re making the filthiest lil’ mess around his cock. He wants to explain how Gojo’s likely temporary for you and how you’ll always end up coming right back into his arms the moment the guy fucks up.

To make matters worse, Gojo smiles against your lips. While your best friend didn’t exactly say anything, his face was doing all the talking right now. Which was enough to lead Gojo into bringing a hand down to your ass and squeezing before he finally shuts his eyes and kisses you properly.

You hum at the sudden push of his lips against you and then jump against his hold the moment his hand smacks your ass. “Satoru,” You utter between his kisses, earning a low grunt from his throat before his lips detach from yours.

Gojo takes one long look at your face, feeling Choso’s eyes still on him, and then he smirks. His free hand moves to your lips, exactly like how your best friend did, and spreads your lips apart. “Hold on, stick out your tongue f’me,” Gojo instructs. You’re confused but, you do it anyway.

Gojo huffs a small scoff through his nose, glances at Choso one more time, and then looks at you. “You came in here for somethin’ to drink right?” He’s not about to do what you think he is, is he? “Lemme give you a taste of what I’ve been sippin’ on, yeah?”

You’re not sure what’s worse. The way your tongue rolls out a bit further in anticipation, the fact that Choso’s watching this, or the fact that Gojo actually lets a filthy glob of spit waft down onto your tongue… And then to top it all off, you swallow it down with no hesitation.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Gojo whispers, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time you pull back and turn your head, “Enough Satoru. Choso’s standing right—“

“Nah, pretend I’m not even here, honestly,” Choso comments finally, his hands balled into fists within the confines of his pockets. “That’s what you’ve been doin’ all night anyway,” He mutters beneath his breath whilst his feet swivel against the ground. “I’ll just uh, go ahead ‘nd see my way out.” Is the last thing said before you turn your head back and see him snatching up his drink from the counter.

“Wait,” You huff, breaking away from Gojo’s touches entirely. You hurry over to Choso and whisper, “We’ll talk more tonight, okay? I promise.”

Choso’s gaze flickers in sincerity at your words. “You promise?” He whispers back.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Alright.” He says to you before doing one last thing as if to get back at Gojo’s recent display of affection. Choso takes hold of one of your hands and carefully yanks your body toward him. He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you—appearing as though he were embracing you just to say bye.

But, because of a certain pair of blue eyes watching his every move, Choso smirks and moves his lips to press against your ear with a soft-spoken voice. “I’ll see you later tonight then.” He tells you.

After which, Choso looks at something (more like someone) behind you and then smiles fully. Whatever he was just trying to accomplish has certainly worked. And with that, he pulls away from you and leaves the kitchen with a slight wave of his hand.

You found that… weird. Why did he hug you and whisper in your ear like that all of a sudden? It’s not like he said anything incriminating. You shrug Choso’s oddness off and turn back around.

Coming face first with the man, Gojo’s now standing a lot closer than where you’d left him. For the nth time of the day, you flinch out of surprise. “Satoru, shit. I thought you were—“

“You done?” Gojo breathes out all of a sudden.

Your brows pinch up and you hum. “What? Done with what?”

“This party,” He clarifies, his expression unreadable. “I’m ready to go.”

“We’ve only been here for like thirty minutes,” You tell him with a weary smile on your face. “What’s wrong?”

Gojo stares at you as if you should be able to read his mind or something but, the truth is, his expression tells you nothing. He looks like he’s pissed off? But, he also looks like he’s fine? You’re unsure of what to make of his face right now.

“I just,” He pauses, clearly deciding his words carefully before he sighs. “I wanna be alone with you for a sec'.”

You glance around the kitchen, “We’re alone right now?”

Gojo shakes his head, “I mean, somewhere more private.”

“Ah,” You nod. “Do you wanna go find a room?”

“There’s a couple fucking in almost every one,” He tells you, cringing at the flashback. “I stumbled into a few while lookin’ for the bathroom. But uhm, what about my car?”

“That seems private enough... Are you sure everything’s okay?” You ask with a concerned tilt of your head.

Gojo’s eyes look almost tired, the emotion in them unrecognizable to you. With another sigh, he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I… I don’t know, jus’ want you to myself for a second, alright?” There’s this sudden attitude that pops off in his words and it makes your heart twinge funnily. Then he’s stepping past you and walking away as if he wants you to follow him.

You’re wildly confused but, you do anyway.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

The walk to Gojo’s car is almost awkward for you. With no idea what’s gotten into him so suddenly, he just seems grumpy the whole way there. Even as Shoko bumps into you two on the way out, dressed as a doctor, she doesn’t even get a cheerful response from him like normal.

There are some other now familiar faces you pass but every time you stop to wave or to see what they're trying to say to you, Gojo ends up grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

By the time you reach his car, he has the two of you shuffling into the back seat instead of the front for reasons you’re unsure of.

Again, it’s awkward as a moment of silence passed with just you and him sitting inside. The distant sounds of the party can still be heard but it’s weird for you to be out here with Gojo instead of in there partying when he’s the one who invited you out to this whole thing. Why was he acting like this—

Gojo says your name suddenly and your head turns to him. He’s already looking at you but what surprises you is how he leans closer. “Can I kiss you?” He requests, throwing you all the way off.

Did he… Did he really just pull you out of the party just to kiss you in private?? Had you misinterpreted his past few public kisses and touches for something else? What the hell is going on? Why did he—

“Please,” Gojo’s face is now right in front of yours and his lips are hardly an inch away. “Jus’ one,” When is it ever just one with this man… and why does that questioning thought give you this sense of deja vu?

Despite the raging questions and confusion swirling in your head, you nod.

Gojo presses his lips to yours and you feel weird for a second. Maybe it was the lack of understanding that really turned you off or maybe it was the alcohol resting on his lips that you hadn’t noticed earlier but either way, you feel odd.

He pulls away when he notices you’re not kissing back like normal and his eyes soften, “What’s wrong?” Gojo asks.

You fold your arms, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I mean, yeah but—“

“No, Satoru. No buts, what the hell is wrong with you?” You snap all of a sudden. Half of you doesn’t even know where this sudden irritation is coming from. “You do all of that weird shit in front of Choso and then drag me out the party just to kiss me? I don’t understand. Why show off whatever it is we have in front of Choso but not anyone else? A-Are you trying to keep us as some sort of secret..?”

Gojo mistakenly scoffs at your words. Right in front of your face too. “What?” He breathes. “What ‘weird shit’ did I do in front of him? And what do you mean ‘keep us as some sorta’ secret’? We’re not together.”

That stung. Again. Just like when Choso reminded you earlier except it hurt significantly worse coming from Gojo himself.

“I-I’m talking about the touching, the kissing, the…” You hate it but there’s a shake in your voice now. Stuttered over a few words and your emotions conflicting inside you. “T-The spitting into my mouth. I obviously don’t mind it but it’s confusing when you do that and then drag me all the way out here because you don’t want anyone else seeing us do those things.”

He shifts, sliding back into his seat and weighing his head to the side. Gojo’s eyes narrow, “Who said I didn’t want anyone else seeing us do those things?”

“Your actions did,” You explain, just barely keeping your gaze on him.

He smirks but you can tell he’s frustrated. “You think I brought you out here to hide the stuff we do together??”

“That’s what it seems and feels like, yes—“

“No, I brought you out here because I needed a moment to just be with you,” Gojo interrupts, rolling his eyes away from you and slumping back against the seat. “Alone. I was irritated about something and being alone with you always calms me down.”

You slide a bit closer to him and lean your head to the side a bit to gain the eye contact back, “Irritated about what?”

He’s quiet for a while. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you—just lets his aggravation fester inside him. At some point, his leg starts bobbing up and down and he glances to his left to look out the window.

Gojo’s met with the view of the neighboring house to the one the party’s taking place at. There’s no one over there at the moment, the lights are all off, and the entire vibe is different from the house just across the street. It’s a nice contrast to the chaos elsewhere.

It’s slow but, Gojo finally responds to you in monotone, “Seein’ Choso’s grimy hands all over your fuckin’ body.”

You had a feeling that's what it was but, you could never be too sure.

“So…” You scoff, “You got jealous.”

Gojo’s face twists up and he swivels his head to look at you, flinching slightly at how close you’ve gotten to him. “The fuck? Jealous? Me?” He spits out to you, trying to play off his initial surprise at seeing the lessened space between you two.

“Yeah you, who the hell else?” You bite back, sizing him up and down and scrunching your face up.

Gojo almost finds the mirrored expression cute. “I wasn’t jealous.” He tells you.

“So why did it bother you that he touched me the way he did?” Your question makes him swallow thickly but you don’t stop there, “Especially if uh, ‘we’re not together’?”

You don’t know it but those words burn him in the same way they burned you. It’s an irritating reminder because he has no business feeling the way he does considering that.

Gojo’s upper lip twitches a bit, “Cause I just didn’t like it.”

“That’s called jealousy.”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ jealous!” He huffs.

To which you smile. Then you’re moving over some more and he’s following every shift of your body until you throw a leg over his and straddle him. Gojo’s looking up at you now but the tension in both the car and your faces has yet to fade.

Although, there is this sudden softness to your tone that makes him gulp again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, y’know. It’s okay to be jealous.” As you explain, your hands go to his shoulders and you hear him sigh.

“Is it?” Gojo questions in an equally softened tone.

“Yeah,” You hum, “It would help me understand you if you admit that’s what this whole thing is about.”

He shakes his head, his hands sliding up to relax on your thighs. “No, because when I get jealous over stuff, I think about doing stupid shit.”

With your brows shooting up in a mix of curiosity and concern, “Like what?” You ask him.

“Like fuckin’ you in front of Choso,” Gojo replies almost immediately.

You blink. “So, you’re admitting it?”

His eyelids lowered, “That I was jealous?”

The tension in the car has… shifted.

“Yeah,” You utter gently, not yet sitting on top of him but just barely hovering over him.

“I guess so, I dunno.” Gojo huffs. His hands travel up to your hips and he squeezes, “I just… Maybe it’s the alcohol but I can’t fuckin’ think straight.”

You frown and lean forward, looping your arms around his neck, “So talk to me then.”

“I can’t. My head’s all over the place,” He admits to you. Truth be told, Gojo doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling right now. This is.. unusual for him. “Part of me wants to ignore whatever the fuck I’m feelin’ and just go back inside with you and the other part of me wants to…”

You tilt your head, a small act he finds so intoxicatingly attractive at the moment. “Wants to what?” You inquire.

“Fuck you to prove a point I don’t have to,” He admits begrudgingly.

His admission only makes you chuckle. You can’t say you woke up expecting to encounter a jealous Gojo today but, here you are straddling him. You’re not seated on top of him fully just yet, it’s more like your thighs are resting over his but there’s this small sliver of space between your crotch and his.

The heated tension from earlier has shifted into a very apparent sexual tension. You can feel it in his touch as he slips his fingertips upward to hold your exposed waist before sliding them back down to your hips.

Technically speaking, Gojo’s been itching to get like this with you since the two of you were dancing earlier. That’s part of why he came to the kitchen to look for you. He has no trouble controlling himself but drinking never really helps him balance his hormones properly. That, and he didn’t want both of you to be drunk the first time you have sex.

And yes, that does say that he intended to have sex with you today. Not that he planned it from the day prior or anything like that but, sometime throughout that party, Gojo told himself he’d rather die than go home without having you in some way shape, or form.

He’d never force you into anything, of course. But, you let him give you head before so, surely you’d let him do that again?

Though, that’s not what he wants now. Not when you’re seated on top of him, not when your skin is reacting to every slip of his fingers, and certainly not when he wants to fuck every thought of Choso out of that pretty lil’ head of yours.

“What kinda point are you trying to prove?” You soon ask with a breathy laugh leaving your supple lips that Gojo keeps glancing at.

He shrugs, “Told you I can’t think straight so, I don’t even know.” Oh but he does know. He wants to prove that the relationship he has with you currently trumps whatever the fuck you and Choso have. Who cares if you and that dickhead have been friends for eight years? The way you’re looking at Gojo right now alone outweighs that tenfold. Right?

Maybe he’s just in his head too much right now—unsure how to juggle this feeling in his chest. So, Gojo just tugs your upper half closer, causing your tits to press against his chest before he buries his face into your neck. The tip of his nose runs against your skin and he inhales, his breath hitching midway through due to the smell of another guy on you.

Annoyed, Gojo quickly presses wet kisses into your neck and you jump in surprise.

“S-Satoru,” You stammer, finding the sudden kissing ticklish and trying not to laugh. “Hey, woah, what are you d-doing,” You snort and a smile spreads across your face, “That tickles-, hey.”

He pauses himself just below your jawline, having heard the sudden breathiness of your tone. “You smell like him too,” Gojo tells you before latching his lips onto the area he’d previously stopped at, suckling your skin into his mouth. Your head tips back like it’s natural for you to do so and he grins into your skin. “I hate it.”

Chuckling again, “Just come out ‘n say you're jealous already—“

“I’m jealous,” Gojo states hotly into your neck. Angling himself downwards, he licks you, “Soo fuckin’ jealous, sweetheart.”

You hate the way his words make you feel so stupidly happy. Gojo Satoru, jealous because of you? Oh you’re in heaven right now considering your feelings for him. “Satoru.” You end up gasping as he nips you.

“More of that,” He breathes.

You sigh and a faint whine exits your throat, “M-More of what?”

Gojo’s sucking and tugging at your neck with his lips, leaving mark after mark on you as if they’re rightfully supposed to be there. “My name on your tongue.” He soon hums lowly, having moved to the center of your throat.

Just as he says that his hands force you to sit on him fully. The sudden contact of his hard cock pressing up against your clothed cunt makes you gasp louder than before, “Oh fuck…” You murmur, surprised you can even feel how painfully erect he is through all the thick layers of leather and the fabric of his pants. “‘Toru,” Whining now, he can only smile.

He’s trying so hard not to grind himself up against you but the sounds you’re letting out really aren't making things any easier for him. “Mh? Feel that?” He asks with a tip of his head and a messy slide of his lips over your neck.

“Mhm,” You hum sexually, testing the waters a bit with a small roll of your hips forward.

Gojo pries away from your throat with a wet pop, admiring his work for a second. Then, he flicks his eyes up to your awfully needy face, “You want it or what?”

“Here?” You squeak in surprise, “I-In your car?”

Gojo pulls back a bit and smiles knowingly, “Would you rather us do it outside and against the car..?”

God, you hate how much of a tease he is. “No! I just…” Even the way your lashes bat ever so softly has Gojo’s cock twitching. “What if someone sees—“

“Girl,” He scoffs sassily, rolling his eyes at you for the nth time. “I have tint on my windows, the hell do you take me for? Hm?” He asks, expecting no sort of answer as his hands tighten on your hips and he looks down. “Pluuus, look at you. Your body wants it.”

You’ve been almost unconsciously grinding against him ever since he pressed you down against himself. His eyes watch in a daze as you skillfully rock yourself back and forth and back and forth over his throbbing cock. He’s so turned on that it’s starting to hurt not being inside you right now.

Then your voice hits his ears in that softer aroused tone he recognizes and fuck is his tip leaking in pre against his boxers. “How long have you been hard?” You ask.

He doesn’t need even a second to think about it, “I told you I was earlier.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!” You puff out.

Gojo runs his hands up along your body, his touch smoother than ever as he leans back some more, glides his hands up to your waist, and spreads his legs a bit further. “Doesn’t take much for you to turn me on, pretty girl.” He comments, voice growing raspier.

Just that simple statement makes you so insanely wet. He was very specific with his words just now. It doesn’t take much for you to turn him on. Your hormones are starting to make you dizzy at this point and all you can do is bite back a moan, “Shut up—“

“Ride me,” Gojo commands abruptly.

“H-Huh?” You gape, hips jerking against him.

He smirks, “I didn’t stutter. Ride me, baby.” Gojo repeats casually. Then he tips his head back and the angle of his annoyingly attractive features just does it for you. Especially as the next set of lewd words come rolling off his tongue, “Put that pretty pussy on me, c’mon.”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “How did we even get here…” Are you seriously trying to backtrack this conversation? Yes. You two were bickering just a few moments ago… “Weren’t we arguing?”

He shrugs, “We can continue that while my cock’s inside you if you want.”

“Satoru.” You say sternly.

“If you don’t want to, just say that.”

“But…”

A beat of silence passes, the air only consisting of the messy friction occurring between your crotch and his. That, and your syncing breathing as the two of you stare intimately into each other's eyes. All you can do is replay the time he was in between your legs and…

“…You want it, don’t you?” Gojo points out.

Suddenly too shy to speak, you carefully nod your head with a soft hum of agreement.

Gojo bites his lower lip and then scoffs eagerly. “So take it,” He tells you, slumping back against his seat again and rolling his hips up against you. “It’s allll yours. Every fuckin’ inch.”

With a frustrated little puff of air leaving your lips, you lean forward and connect your mouth with his—both of you groaning into one another. Searing against him, your hands start moving to undress him. “You’re annoying, y’know that?” You huff into his mouth.

Gojo only chuckles and his hands are working your clothes off just as well as you are for him. “Yet you still got on top of me, right?” He teases, kissing you back messily as you snag his shirt off and fling it elsewhere. “Still wanna fuck me,” Gojo snickers.

Your hands move down to the thick buckle of his pants and he’s pulling the knot of your top loose. “Yeah, to get you to shut up for a second.”

“Oh really?” His smirk widens, “Sure it’s not so I can prove that point of mine?” As he asks that, you’re tugging his belt off and tossing it while he’s taking his hands off of you for a second just to watch you undress him.

You have to hover over him again as you continue this semi-heated conversation with him. Whether or not the discussion is heated with sexual tension or aggravated tension, you’re unsure. “You never told me what that point was so, no.” You quip.

Gojo feels his breath catch in his throat when your fingers begin working his pants off. “Wanna prove I’m better.” He tells you hoarsely.

Once his slacks are tugged down his thighs, he’s helping you by kicking them off. Now he’s only clad in his boxers—how strange considering you’re still dressed. Kinda reminds him of the last time you two did something sexual except the roles were reversed. “Who’s to say you haven’t already?” You soon ask him as you lean back and begin to work your shorts off.

Gojo’s hands move like magnets with the way they find your hips again, assisting you in removing those teasing shorts of yours, “The way he looks at you.”

“I don’t understand,” You’re shuffling your legs around, working clothes off within the space of his car, and yet the conversation is still carried out seamlessly.

“He looks at you the same way I do but…” Gojo unintentionally flings your shorts elsewhere the very second they’re off of you and then he quickly maneuvers you back on top of him. “More fuckin’ smug. Can’t stand it.”

Teasingly, you chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Oh don’t tease me about this shit, I’m not joking,” He argues, taking a second to stare at the sexy black fabric of your panties. Gojo thinks he drools for a second but you can’t tell with the way the rest of his sentence comes flying out, “It pisses me the fuck off.”

“So, what,” You scoff. “Are you gonna take it out on me then?” Your voice leaves in a seductive whisper that prompts the man to look up at you, feeling your arms wrap around his neck again.

“Nahh, ‘course not,” Gojo whispers back.

Your brows meet, “Then what—“

“I’m gonna fuck it into you.” He cuts off, feeling you plop yourself back onto him fully. Both of you moan in unison given the two flimsy layers of fabric in between you.

“F-Fuck what into me?” You ask confusedly. Your eyes soften and Gojo’s fighting every cell in his body not to flip you over, pin you down, and fuck you til’ his balls run dry.

He’s losing it, truly.

“A kid if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” He says playfully.

Your eyes go all wide but your cunt throbs at the idea (?), “Satoru!”

“I’m joking,” He laughs. “But my name will be the only thing this pussy remembers in a few minutes…”

And that’s… Well, that’s not far off from the truth whatsoever.

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littlelamy · 2 days ago

Text

party fun

pairing: bsf!rafe x vixen!reader

The low hum of conversation and music fills the air, laughter echoing off the walls as you try to keep up with the man in front of you, who’s telling some story you barely register. Your eyes keep wandering, scanning the room—until you see him. Rafe stands across the room, his gaze unwavering, intense, zeroed in on you with a focus that makes your pulse skip a beat. He doesn’t look away, and the longer he stares, the more you feel a mix of excitement and a hint of nervousness settle over you.

Just then, your companion reaches out to touch your arm, chuckling as he leans in closer, but before he finishes his sentence, you feel a firm hand clasp around your wrist. You turn, heart racing, to find Rafe standing right there, closer than you thought, his expression hard.

“Fuck off dude. She's with me,” he says, his voice low and clipped, eyes fixed on the guy next to you. Rafe’s tone leaves no room for argument, and within seconds, the man mumbles something, backing away with a quick nod. Your heart pounds as Rafe’s hand stays wrapped around your wrist, his grip both protective and possessive. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he pulls you gently but firmly through the crowd, leading you down a hallway to an empty bathroom, his jaw tight, eyes blazing.

Without a word, he closes the door behind him, his fingers still laced with yours as he turns to face you. His breathing is heavy, and there’s an unmistakable fire in his gaze.

“Rafe…” you start, but he cuts you off, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. He’s watching you like he’s seeing you for the first time, his eyes filled with that intensity you can’t resist.

“Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me?” he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. “Watching you out there with him… seeing him so fucking close to you…” He shakes his head, as though he’s trying to rein in his own emotions, but there’s a small, dangerous smirk on his lips. “God, Vixen, you’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close. The kiss is possessive, almost desperate, and it takes your breath away, your hands automatically reaching up to grip his shoulders as he holds you there, pouring everything he feels into the way his mouth moves against yours.

You let out a quiet moan against his lips, feeling his hold on you tighten as he pulls you even closer. He lifts you onto the counter with ease, standing between your legs, his hands on either side of your waist as his mouth explores yours with a passion that makes your heart race. His hand slides to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath.

“Say my name,” he murmurs, his voice low and intense, eyes dark as they search yours. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Rafe,” you whisper, and a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his fingers tracing a slow line down your arm, sending a shiver through you. “That’s what I thought.” His gaze drops, his thumb grazing over your collarbone, the barest hint of a smirk as he watches your reaction.

Your breathing is ragged, your pulse racing, and he notices every little movement, every shift, the way your body reacts to his touch. His hand slides down, fingers brushing over your skin with a deliberate slowness that leaves you breathless.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “So fucking perfect. All… mine.” There’s a possessive edge to his words that makes your heart skip, a thrill rushing through you as he kisses the side of your neck, his lips trailing down to your shoulder with agonizing slowness.

You can barely breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he moves his mouth along your skin. “Daddy…” The name comes out as a soft moan, and he pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“Say it again,” he demands, his tone leaving no room for question. His hands move up, cupping your face, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that leaves you feeling bare, exposed. “I want to fucking hear it.”

“Daddy,” you whisper, and he grins, that smirk of his returning as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s slower this time, savoring, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re all I want,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands tracing over your sides, fingers skimming the fabric of your top in a way that makes your skin tingle, every nerve alive under his touch. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to be here.” His hands slide lower, gripping your waist firmly, possessively, and he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Only me. You got that?”

“Yes,” you manage, your voice barely a breath as he watches you, his gaze softening just slightly, a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes.

“Good,” he murmurs, his hands moving up your back, holding you close as he kisses you again, deep and slow. His touch, the way his hands move over your skin, leaves you dizzy, overwhelmed, every thought fading away until there’s only him, his hands, his mouth, his breath mingling with yours.

The kiss deepens, his hands tracing over your body in a way that makes your breath hitch, and you feel his fingers slide over your chest, moving with a deliberate slowness that leaves you wanting more. You let out a soft moan, unable to hold it back, and he pulls back just slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you.

“More?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver through you, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe, unable to look away, your voice barely a whisper as you nod. He grins, that smug, possessive smile, and his lips are on yours again, his hands moving over your body with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes.

“Say you’re mine, Vixen,” he whispers, his mouth against yours, his voice barely above a murmur. “I want to fucking hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Rafe,” you reply, your voice shaking with the weight of it, and he lets out a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he kisses you harder, deeper, as if he’s pouring every bit of emotion into it, every unspoken word, every feeling he can’t put into words.

And in that moment, there’s nothing else—just you, him, and the overwhelming need that leaves you breathless, wanting him more than anything else.

Rafe’s hands are on you again, relentless in their exploration, as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of your skin. The way his fingers trail over your waist, down your sides, makes your pulse race, each touch sending shivers that start deep within you. He’s leaning in, his breath hot against your neck, lips brushing lightly over your skin as he hums in approval.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice rough, eyes dark and intent as he looks down at you, his fingers still gently grazing the fabric of your top. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls the material up slightly, just enough to expose the curve of your tits. His gaze flickers down, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

“I can’t get enough of you, Vixen,” he growls, his voice thick with desire. His fingers trace a delicate line along the edge of your top, then slide to where the fabric gathers, pulling it tighter in his hands, teasing. The motion sends a spike of electricity through your body, your breath catching in your throat as his touch lingers just a little too long, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

“Rafe…” Your voice cracks, breathless from the way his hands are making you feel—he’s not gentle, but there’s a tenderness in the way he moves with you, as if each touch is a claim, a promise.

He meets your eyes again, and there’s that fire in his gaze, the same fire that makes your heart beat erratically, makes your body ache for more. His hands find the curve of your waist, fingers curling in, pulling you toward him, pressing you against him with a force that feels both protective and possessive.

“You want this?” he asks, his voice low and husky, as he slides his hands up, finding the soft curve of your chest. He pauses there, his thumb brushing over your nipples, slow and deliberate, a silent question hanging in the air between you.

Your body reacts before you can think, your chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths, every nerve alight with the sensation of him, of his touch. The way his hands move, gentle but firm, makes your mind go blank. You nod, just once, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the overwhelming need for him.

Rafe’s lips curl into a small, satisfied grin as his fingers press with a subtle insistence, his touch shifting, teasing, sending sharp waves of heat rushing through you.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa

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xxotothedeathx · 2 days ago

Text

Introducing....

LOSER-SUB!CHRIS STURNIOLO X DOM!READER

warnings: smut, edging kink, masturbation, sub male, slight degradition kink, losing NNN, overstimulation, oral sex (male recieving), use of y/n, little to no plot, pet names, NOT PROOF READ

details: DOM!READER will be using SHE/HER pronouns. chris lives with his girlfriend, y/n, who works at the local pet store. one day, she comes home early to find chris in a very compromising situation.

a/n: hi lovelies!! thank you for voting on my poll. as you can see, this story won! if you would still like to see the matt story, let me know!! this is my first time writing in MONTHS, so excuse me if it's bad... ENJOY!!

You walked into your apartment, noticing all the lights out. You know Chris is home, You saw his car outside, and it's only 6:00.

You slide your shoes off and walk deeper into the familiar darkness, placing your purse and jacket on the couch.

You stumble towards the hallway, tripping slightly on a cord. You come to a halt outside of yours and Chris's shared room.

You reach for the handle, turning it to open the door slightly. You stop in your tracks, the door not even halfway open when you hear a quiet whimper.

You peek your head around the door and into the room, seeing Chris lying on the bed. One arm is draped over his face, his head thrown back into the pillows. The other hand is rather low, stroking a quite intimate area very rapidly.

You step into the room fully, slightly mesmerized at the sight. You couldn't help but giggle quietly, which Chris hears.

His arm shoots off his head, grabbing the blanket and throwing it over himself as he sits up. His eyes glued to you.

"Babe, your home early..."

He speaks awkwardly, shying away under the blanket.

"That I am. What were you doing?"

You speak teasingly, walking towards the bed slowly. You know what he was doing, and he knows you know

"Nothing babe."

"Oh, so jerking yourself is nothing?"

"Shut up.."

"Weren't you bragging to Nate about how your gonna win NNN?"

"And I will. Its No NUT November, doesnt mean I can't touch myself."

"Hmm, I think I could make you lose."

You say, sitting down next to him, your hand snaking under the blanket and resting on his thigh.

"As if. I have more self control then that."

Chris speaks in a tone of courage, but the shudder his body gives and the quiet gasp he lets out says otherwise.

"Is that...a challenge?"

You speak, gently lifting the blanket off of him and crawling over him, hovering.

"Maybe."

As soon as the word left his mouth, you wasted no time. Your lips fly down, attacking his, as your hand snakes down his body to his most intimate member.

You wrap your finger around his cock, gently, causing him to gasp into the kiss. When his lips part, your tounge subconsciously shoots into his mouth, exploring it.

You begin to move your hand up and down, slowly. Your long nails, which he had paid for, adding extra sensation.

You slowly pull your lips off his, before moving them down to his neck. Leaving little bruises all over it, being sure to bite his most sensitive spot.

"Y/n.."

He gasps out your name, his hips bucking involuntarily up into your hand.

"Shh, be quiet for me.."

You mumble against his neck.

Your stroking gets faster, and his whimpers get louder.

"Y/n, Im gonna cum!"

Chris cries out, and you immediately stop the movement.

He lets out a whine and looks down at you, giving a questioning look.

You pull away from his neck, looking up at him.

"Wouldnt wanna lose, now would you?"

You smirk, crawling back up and kissing him.

This kiss is long and passionate, as he cups your cheek. Your tounges danced together in a loving fight. The heat between your bodies matching the flame of the sun.

Your hand moves back down, starting the stroking slowly. Teasing the tip of his cock, before speeding up slightly.

You pull away from the kiss, staring down at him. Watching as his eyebrows furrow, and his head tilts back slightly.

His lips pressed into a thin line, a slight sweat on the edges of his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut.

You begin moving your hand faster.

His mouth falls open, groans falling out one after another, and his head jerks back further.

You can tell hes close. So,

You stop your hand movmemt, earning a whine from him. You give him a sharp look, shutting him up before he has a chance to protest.

You climb off the bed, getting on your knees at the edge. You open your mouth to give commands, but before you can Chris is already positioned infront of you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Little slut."

You mumble, before kissing the tip of his length. He lets out a quiet whimper, before responding. Or atleast, attempting to respond.

"Im not a slu- ahh!"

His words cut off, and blend into a moan as your wrap your lips around his tip. Your tounge flicks the very top as you move your mouth lower.

He throws his head back, a stream of curses, moans, and grunts leave his mouth as your work your magic.

You push your mouth as far down and deep you can go. Taking almost all his length in your mouth. What you cant take, your hand is tightly wrapped around it and twisting.

This throws him over the edge, his head falls back as he attempts to pull away from you.

"Please, im gonna.."

Before he can finish his sentence, you feel a string of warmth fly into your mouth and down your throat. It was a salty taste, but you swallowed it all nonetheless.

You dont pull your mouth way however. You keep going.

Sucking, and bobbing your head up and down.

"To much, to much"

Chris cries out, but his hand that has found its way to your hair eggs you on, pushing your face towards him as his hips buck up into your mouth.

Whimpers upon whimpers leave his mouth, and even faster then the first time he releases in your mouth once again.

You pull away, after swallowing it of course, and look up at him.

"Loser."

"Shut the fuck up."

hope you enjoyed it ! its not the best and kinda short, but its what i got ! let me know if you have any requests !!!

#chris sturniolo #smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #answered #winner #loser humiliation #degrade and humiliate me #k1nky #first story #fanfic #nnn #no nut november #fypage #for you #crush x reader

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hoshifighting · 2 days ago

Note

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

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jungaji · 3 days ago

Text

3:16AM

cw: drunk haechan, fluff (lie), angst

you found donghyuck swaying on the sidewalk, his head drooping slightly, a lopsided smile breaking through his otherwise spent expression. his usually bright eyes held a dreamy haze—the result of a few too many drinks.

with one arm around his waist, he leaned his head on your shoulder, soft breaths brushing against your neck as you walked him home, the quiet intimacy stirring a familiar warmth inside you.

once home, you guided him to the couch, where he slumped back, eyes blurry and unfocused.

you sat next to him, coaxing him to drink some water. "cmon, just a little," you murmured, holding the glass to his lips.

he managed a few sips, before looking up, meeting your eyes with a mischievous glint. "you're always s'good to me," he mumbled, voice thick with sleepiness.

you smiled softly, giggling at his intoxicated state. "who else if not me to take care of you?" you replied, gently brushing the hair from his face.

you traced your fingers over his features, admiring the constellation of beauty marks on his face that trailed down to his neck. he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbled, "mm, wanna go to bed."

you nodded, taking his hand to help him up, gently leading him through the dim hallway toward your shared bedroom.

as soon as you reached, he let go of your hand and collapsed onto the bed heavily, sighing deeply as he sank into the mattress.

you giggled at the sight before carefully lifting each of his feet, slipping his shoes off as his arms stretched out, reaching for something. you took this as a sign to hold his hand once more, giving it a light squeeze.

"baby," he slurred, his voice soft and sleepy, his fingers curling around yours. "you're my favourite person ever, y'know that?"

a faint smile tugged at your lips, your heart warming at his words. "yes, yes. get some sleep, hyuckie," you whisper, tucking the blanket around him.

he looked so peaceful, lying there with his eyes barely open, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he stared at you like you were his whole world.

as his eyes closed, snuggling deeper into the comforter, he murmured, "i love you, __."

you froze.

the words hung in the air, heavy and fragile, the warmth in your chest turning cold as you realised—

that isn't your name.

your heart seemed to stop for a second, and the subsequent silence was filled with the steady, gentle sound of his breathing. he was asleep before you could even respond, his hand still loosely holding onto yours, unburdened by the words he'd just said.

you pursed your lips in an attempt to swallow back the tears that threatened to fall. smoothing the blanket over him, you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"i love you too," you whispered, the words aching as you pulled away.

authors note: this was looowkey inspired by tonight (i wish i was your boy) by the 1975 !!! (thank you myungie for proofreading)

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ha-rinrin · 2 days ago

Text

Yours, Always

summary: Jinx asks you an important question, with the stars as witness

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 2k

Authors note: Even tough I feel like shit, writing somehow helps me work trough my emotions. I have another like 3 ideas on how this can go, so definitely keep an eye out for more versions.

masterlist

The stars above feel closer than ever, twinkling brightly over the city. You lie side by side with Jinx on a soft, worn blanket, wrapped up in each other as if there’s no one else in the world. She’s lying on her back, one arm stretched out, and you’re nestled into her side, one arm crossing her stomach, resting your head on her shoulder. Her fingers are softly tracing patterns on your arm, the touch light but grounding, as if she wants to memorize every part of you.

She pulls you closer, her arm shifting so it wraps fully around your shoulders, drawing you against her. Her cheek rests on top of your head, and you can feel the rise and fall of her chest with every steady breath. The cool night air settles around you, but her warmth, the way she holds you, feels like home.

With a soft sigh, Jinx shifts slightly, guiding you to lie even closer to her, your bodies pressed together. You look up, meeting her eyes, and she smiles—a gentle, vulnerable smile that’s just for you. She reaches up, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, letting her fingers linger as they trace the outline of your cheek.

“I don’t really… do this,” she says quietly, her voice almost a whisper against the stillness of the night. “But I guess… I like having you here. Like… a lot.”

You smile, snuggling deeper into her embrace, and she responds by shifting so you’re both facing each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Her fingers drift to the small of your back, holding you close, her forehead resting against yours.

“Can’t believe I’m getting all mushy,” she says, a soft laugh escaping her. But there’s no hint of her usual bravado. Just the gentle way her thumb strokes your back, the way her legs tangle with yours, drawing you closer than you thought possible.

“Maybe mushy isn’t so bad,” you murmur, letting your fingers glide along her shoulder. The warmth of her breath on your cheek sends a flutter through your chest as she tilts her head, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s soft, sweet, and says more than words ever could.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her purple eyes holding a tenderness that’s rare, almost fragile. “Stay here with me, just like this,” she whispers, her voice a promise as her arms tighten around you.

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you feel like the whole world could fade away, and you wouldn’t mind one bit. Because in this moment, under the stars, in her arms—everything is perfect.

The night feels endless and comforting as you lie together, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the blanket beneath you. You notice the subtle change in Jinx—her fingers tracing over your arm in a slower, almost hesitant way, and the way her gaze keeps drifting up to the stars, then back to you, like she’s working up the nerve to say something.

She pulls you even closer, her forehead resting against yours, and you feel her breath hitch, as if she’s caught off guard by the depth of her own emotions. Her usual playful grin is absent, replaced by a softer, almost shy smile as she holds you, her fingers brushing up and down your back.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. She doesn’t wait for your answer, like she’s afraid she’ll lose her courage if she does. “Being with you… it makes me feel like there’s this whole side of me I didn’t know I had. Like I finally found a place I don’t wanna run from.”

Her fingers pause, holding tightly to you as her eyes search yours, as if looking for reassurance. “I know I don’t usually get all sappy,” she mumbles, a nervous laugh escaping her, “but with you… it’s different. I feel… I don’t know.” She looks away for a second, biting her lip, and you can see a hint of red on her cheeks.

You smile, reaching up to touch her face, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as if letting herself savor this moment. When she opens them again, there’s something deeper there, a flicker of nervous anticipation that makes your heart skip.

“I guess… I just wanna keep you around,” she says, her words coming out quickly, almost stumbling over each other. Her hand fidgets on your arm, tracing slow circles as if she’s trying to calm herself down. “I mean… forever, if you’d want that. But, uh, you know, no pressure…”

She lets out a breathy laugh, her face flushed as she glances away, clearly flustered. “I’ve just… I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers tighten around yours, grounding herself in your touch. “And I don’t ever want it to end.”

You feel your chest swell, warmth spreading through you as her words settle in. You squeeze her hand in reassurance, your thumb brushing over her knuckles, watching as she relaxes slightly, a hint of her usual grin returning as she pulls you closer.

The peaceful night air shifts as you feel Jinx’s arms tighten around you. Her fingers have stopped their gentle tracing, and she lets out a shaky breath. She pulls back, glancing at you with wide eyes filled with something between excitement and nerves. You’ve seen Jinx look a lot of ways—confident, mischievous, bold—but this look is new. Almost vulnerable.

“C-can you… stand up for a sec?” she stammers, her voice catching slightly as she untangles herself from you, her hands lingering on your arms as if to steady herself.

Confused, but intrigued, you sit up and get to your feet. She follows, but instead of standing fully, she settles down onto one knee, looking up at you, her cheeks flushed and her fingers visibly trembling as she reaches into her pocket.

And then she pulls out a ring box, snapping it open to reveal a diamond ring that sparkles in the faint light from the city below—a ring so big and brilliant that it almost catches your breath.

Your mind goes blank for a moment, your heart racing as you process what’s unfolding in front of you. Your hand instinctively moves to cover your mouth, and you feel a wave of warmth rush through you, as if every beat of your heart is echoing, saying yes, yes, yes This is Jinx, on one knee, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty that makes your chest tighten with pure emotion.

Jinx swallows hard, her voice a little shaky, and for a second, it’s like she’s struggling to find the words. “I… I know I’m not perfect. I’m reckless and a little… well, a lot chaotic. And I probably drive you insane half the time. But when I’m with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A soft, amazed laugh slips from you, but you don’t dare interrupt. You’re transfixed, every nerve ending attuned to her, to the way her thumb brushes over the diamond, grounding herself as she looks back up with those bright blue eyes, filled with more emotion than you’ve ever seen in them.

“I want this. Us. Forever.” Her voice steadies, her usual confidence returning as she looks up at you with a grin that’s all Jinx—playful, intense, and utterly devoted. “So, what do you say? Wanna make all my future trouble your problem, officially?”

Her question hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The stars, the city lights below—they’re all background noise to the look on her face, hopeful and nervous, her heart wide open in a way she rarely shows.

Your vision blurs as tears prick your eyes, and as you meet her gaze, you know there’s only one answer you’d ever give her.

Your heart feels like it might burst as you stare down at her, your mind racing to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions. There she is, Jinx, the wild, unpredictable force that turned your world upside down, now kneeling in front of you with an earnest, almost desperate look in her eyes.

She lets out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of her neck, her fingers still gripping the ring box. “You’re really quiet… Don’t leave me hanging here, or I might actually combust,” she says, flashing that familiar grin, though there’s a tremor to it, like she’s more vulnerable than she’s ever been.

You drop to your knees in front of her, taking her hands in yours. She stiffens in surprise, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she watches you with a mix of relief and excitement, her lips parting slightly as you bring your hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb along her skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, and her face lights up, her eyes widening as the word sinks in. “Yes, I want everything with you, Jinx. Your trouble, your chaos, your everything.”

For a second, she’s stunned into silence, and then she’s laughing, a sound so bright and joyous that it fills the night air around you. She slides the ring onto your finger, her hands trembling a little as she presses a kiss to your knuckles, her lips soft and lingering.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” she whispers, pulling you into her arms as she tumbles back onto the blanket, bringing you down with her in a mess of tangled limbs and laughter. She holds you close, burying her face in your neck, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as if grounding herself in this moment.

Her voice softens, barely audible against your skin. “You know, I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find someone who’d want me like this,” she admits, her voice thick with emotion. “But you… you’re everything.”

You pull back to look at her, your fingers brushing through her hair as you lean down to kiss her, slow and deep. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as if she never wants to let go.

As you lie together, wrapped in each other, the city below fades away, leaving only the two of you, and a new promise that stretches as endless as the stars above.

You pull back slightly, feeling a grin tug at the corners of your mouth as you look into her wide, sparkling eyes. Her fingers are still tracing along your back, but you reach into your own pocket, heart pounding as you remember the surprise you’d been carrying with you, waiting for the right moment—hoping, somehow, she’d want the same.

“Actually… I have something for you too,” you say softly, pulling out a small ring box and popping it open to reveal the ring you’d picked out for her.

Jinx’s eyes go wide, and then she throws her head back, bursting into laughter—a wild, joyous laugh that seems to echo into the night, filling the rooftop with her energy. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as her laughter vibrates against you, her eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she gasps between laughs, barely able to keep it together as she looks at you, pure happiness radiating from her. “We really are perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

You laugh with her, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face in her shoulder, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat thrumming against yours. She lifts her head, meeting your gaze with a grin that’s soft yet brimming with excitement. “Alright, show me what you’ve got, babe,” she teases, still laughing.

With hands only slightly less shaky, you slide the ring onto her finger, her laughter turning into a warm, contented smile as she looks down at it. “Now it’s official,” she murmurs, her voice filled with awe as she squeezes your hand, her thumb brushing over the ring. “I’m yours.”

And then she pulls you down beside her again, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go, your shared laughter eventually quieting into soft murmurs as the two of you lie tangled together, fingers intertwined, hearts racing, your promises shining just as bright as the stars above.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #arcane jinx #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx posting #jinx league of legends

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ponderingmoonlight · 12 hours ago

Text

jjk men comforting you after a rough day

Pairings: Megumi x reader; Yuji x reader; Gojo x reader; Choso x reader; Sukuna x reader

Word Count:3,7k

Warnings: none of those scenarios is specific, just reader having a rough day, fluff in every part hehe

Megumi Fushiguro

The world seems extra heavy today, each step on your way home slower than the last. By the time you finally open the door to Megumi’s dorm like you’re used to, your shoulders ache with the weight of it all. But there, waiting in the soft, golden light of his room, is Megumi. He stands in his usual way, casual but attentive, eyes soft as he takes you in as if he’s been waiting for your arrival.

There’s no need to say a single word; he reads everything in the slump of your posture, the tired line of your mouth, your already glossy eyes. He’s always had a way of seeing beyond the surface when it came to you, and tonight is no different.

“Long day?” he asks gently, voice so quiet it feels like a balm against the noise in your mind.

His eyes search yours before he reaches to take your bag from your shoulder, placing it carefully by the door. You nod, the exhaustion catching up with you as the reality of being home, of being with him, finally settles in. What a hell of a day or rather week this was.

Without saying another word, he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours as warm and grounding as ever. There’s comfort in his touch, in the solid warmth of his palm against yours, that makes you feel more at ease than you have all day. He doesn’t press you to talk, doesn’t ask for more than you’re ready to give. Instead, he simply guides you to his bed and settles down beside you, close enough that you can feel his presence like a protective shield.

As you sink into the cushions, he drapes a blanket over your legs, tucking it around you in his careful, unhurried way. He shifts beside you, pulling you gently to rest against his shoulder. The gesture is so familiar, so subtly caring, that you feel a pang in your chest - a reminder that here, with him, you’re safe. You close your eyes for a brief, letting the silence stretch between you, and just breathe in the quiet assurance of his presence. To be honest, this is what you’ve been longing for all day.

Megumi’s hand finds yours again, his fingers tracing gentle circles against the palm of your hand. It’s a small gesture, one that could go unnoticed, but it feels like he’s saying everything while not using a single word.

You let out a deep sigh, allow yourself to sink into him, feeling the weight of the day slowly but surely melt away, bit by bit with each stroke of his thumb against your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually, his voice low and calm.

There’s no pressure in his tone, just an open invitation, one you know he’d withdraw just as easily if you weren’t ready. You shake your head, feeling that threatful lump aching inside your throat. No, you’re absolutely not in the mood to cry right now. Megumi seems to understand though, his gaze softening as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

For a while, you simply sit together, the silence like a healing balm, soothing in its simplicity. When he feels you start to relax, Megumi shifts slightly, freeing his arm so he can wrap it around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your head, a rare display of affection that you feel down to your bones.

The minutes pass in comfortable silence, the kind that only exists with someone like him. Every once in a while, he glances down at you, his gaze gentle and steady, as if checking to make sure you’re still okay. His other hand traces slow, soothing patterns on your arm, the rhythmic motion calming the last lingering traces of stress from the day.

Eventually, he shifts again, adjusting so you’re resting more comfortably against him, his fingers threading through your hair in a slow, steady motion. The tenderness in his movements is so gentle, so completely at odds with his usual stoic demeanor, that you feel your heart ache in the best way. With Megumi, you don’t need to pretend. He sees you as you are, accepts every part of you, even on the days when you feel worn down to nothing.

The evening stretches on, peaceful and calm, until you find yourself dozing off against him, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest. His hand stays in your hair, his fingers moving with a slow, practiced ease, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

And in that moment, as the world fades into soft shadows, you know that with Megumi, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yuji Itadori

You don’t just feel tired tonight. No, you feel like the world is pressing down on you, relentless and merciless. It’s the kind of day that pulls at every thread holding you together, and by the time you reach home, it’s as if all the carefully managed fragments of yourself threaten to break loose.

You push open the door, and Yuji is there, his smile lighting up the moment he sees you. But as soon as he registers your stoic expression, the smile fades into something softer, more tentative.

"Hey," he greets you with warm and concerned-filled voice.

You okay?"

The question, such a damn simple question, breaks something in you. The day’s weight crashes down on you like a tsunami. And before you can stop it, the tears spill over. You try to brush them away, shaking your head as you choke on a frustrated, angry sob. Are you really standing in front of your boyfriend while crying over something like a rough day?

Yuji’s eyes widen for a moment out of visibly surprise, but then he’s right there, a grounding presence in the storm of your emotions.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, moving closer, his arms wrapping around you in a hug so warm and secure it feels like it could hold the world together.

"Let it out. I’m right here, okay? Let’s get you inside."

You press your face into his chest, the tears streaming freely now, and your hands clutch at his shirt, desperate for something solid. Every frustration, every stress, every hurt you’ve kept inside spills over uncontrollably. Why has all of this have to be so damn hard?

“I… I just can’t… I tried so hard today, but it didn’t matter, and… everything’s just too much…”

Yuji’s hand strokes gently along your back, his touch steady and unwavering.

“I get it. I know it’s hard sometimes. I know it can all feel like too much. But you don’t have to handle it alone, yeah?”

His words are simple but hit deep, and you let out a shaky exhale as you lean into him, allowing yourself to be held. Yuji’s warmth radiates through you, steady and grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to fix anything. He just stays, solid and unwavering, letting you release every emotion without a single spark of judgment in his eyes.

After a while, when the tears have slowed and the storm inside you has begun to calm, Yuji pulls back just enough to look at you. He reaches up, brushing away the lingering tears with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft and genuine, “you’re allowed to feel this way. You don’t always have to be okay.”

A small, shaky laugh escapes you, the weight easing just a little.

“That’s good to hear…”

Yuji smiles back, a glimmer of that familiar brightness returning to his face.

“Hey, let’s do something fun. Just you and me. We’ll get ice cream or watch the silliest movie we can find. I bet we can make this day end on a good note.”

You nod, a small smile breaking through, and let him lead you into the living room, his arm still around your shoulders, grounding you with each step.

“I don’t want to watch the one with the worms, though.”

“WHY NOT?”

Satoru Gojo

The day has left you in pieces, each moment sharp and overwhelming, until you can barely stand the pressure building inside you. As you step into the apartment, every sensation - light, sound, touch - feels too much. You shut the door behind you, your breath coming in shallow, unsteady gasps, and it’s as if all the emotions have reached their breaking point. Fuck, don’t start crying right here on the spot, don’t let it all out, get yourself together-

A whimper escapes your lips and before you’re able to comprehend it, Satoru is already there, crossing the room in two easy strides. He reads the distress in your eyes instantly, the usual teasing gleam in his gaze replaced by genuine concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unusually soft.

Honestly, it’s the last question you want to hear right now. Especially when he looks at you all serious.

“I can’t—” you start, your voice choked with frustration and exhaustion.

“Everything is just… too much, Satoru. I can’t handle it right now.”

Your words come out in a tangle, each one louder than the last, until you’re practically shouting, your hands shaking as you try to articulate the chaos inside you.

Instead of stepping back, Satoru stays close, his expression calm and grounded, giving you a safe space to release it all.

“Let it out,” he says quietly, and something in his voice unlocks the dam inside you.

The anger, the sadness, the frustration. All of it pours out in a torrent of words and tears, your hands clenched in fists at your sides as you struggle to contain it.

When the words finally run dry, when you’re left feeling like absolute shit, Satoru reaches out, pulling you into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” he murmurs, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles on your back.

“Sometimes, you just need to let it out. I’ll be here for all of it, not only the fun stuff.”

You bury your face against his chest, your fingers clinging to his shirt for dear life as he holds you, steady and comforting. There’s something supporting in his embrace, something that reminds you that he’s there, a steady presence in the storm of your emotions. Have you ever seen your boyfriend with something like worry filling his eyes, with that glint of seriousness you’ve never seen before in his gaze?

His hand strokes your hair, slow and reassuring, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

"I know it’s hard, and I know it’s not fair. But I promise, you don’t have to go through it alone."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your breath still shaky but the tension easing slightly. He gives you a reassuring smile, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Hey. I know the best treatment for a day like this: a midnight snack. Something sweet, maybe? How about…mochi from that one street?”

“That’s your favorite treat, Satoru.”

“And you’ve mine. So I guess that’s the perfect solution, right?”

His words pull a reluctant laugh from you, and he grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he leads you toward the kitchen.

“Come on, let’s make some memories that’ll drown out the bad ones.”

With Satoru, there’s always a way forward, always a spark of light, even in the darkest moments. Even if it’s a mochi from across the street.

Choso Kamo

The day has left you feeling frayed, worn down to your very core. As you trudge through the door, your gaze drops to the floor, too tired to muster a smile, let alone look at your boyfriend. There’s no need to drag Choso down with you, right?

But before you can even think, he’s right there on his own, his quiet presence filling the room like a comforting warmth. He tilts your head up and meets your gaze, understanding in an instant that you’re feeling down.

Without a word, he steps forward, his hands reaching out in that cautious, careful way of his. He’s always so gentle with you, as if afraid he might break something fragile while touching you. His hands cup your face, his thumbs tracing a feather-light path along your cheekbones as he studies you, his gaze searching and full of an unspoken concern that tugs at your heart.

“You look tired,” he says softly, the rough edge of his voice softened by a tenderness that surprises you every time.

His words hold no judgment, only a quiet understanding that makes you feel seen, truly seen, in a way few people ever manage. His thumb brushes along your cheek, slow and soothing, and it’s enough to make your shoulders relax, the tension melting away beneath his touch.

Choso steps back just slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and then he gently pulls you toward the living room. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s giving you time to catch up, to let go of the day’s weight at your own pace. He guides you to the couch, his hand steady and warm in yours, and you sink into the cushions with a heavy sigh, grateful for the comforting presence beside you.

As you lean back, Choso sits down next to you, close but not crowding. He’s quiet, as he often is, letting the stillness speak for him. It’s a silence that feels like home, that wraps around you like a familiar embrace, offering comfort without demanding anything in return. You close your eyes, leaning your head back against a cushion and just exist, the steady rhythm of his breathing next to you lulling your brain in.

After a few moments, you feel his hand reach for yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gentle hold that feels both protective and grounding. His thumb strokes the back of your hand in slow, deliberate circles, a silent reminder that he’s here, that you’re not alone. You feel the tension in your chest begin to ease, the weight of the day slipping away, bit by bit, with each slow, soothing motion.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost hesitant.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

His tone is careful, as if he’s afraid to intrude, to push too hard. What if you don’t want to talk? What if he’s done something wrong?

You shake your head, feeling the words catch in your throat, and he nods, as if he expected nothing more.

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, the room filled with a peaceful calm that only Choso seems to create. His hand remains in yours, his grip steady and reassuring, as if securing you to the present, to the here and now. Every once in a while, he glances over at you, his gaze soft and full of an unspoken care that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and comforted. Oh, how lucky you are to call him yours.

Sukuna

The day has worn you down to the point of raw nerves, every small inconvenience piling up, every task feeling like an impossible problem. By the time you make it home, every sight, every sound feels like it’s pushing you closer to the edge. You step through the door, exhausted and on the brink.

And there he is, lounging on the couch with his usual air of dominance and confidence. His crimson eyes flick up as you enter, taking in the tension in your posture and the clenched fists at your sides.

“Finally home,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Took you long enough.”

Something inside you snaps. After all the shit you’ve been through this week, those countless working hours, this is what he has to say while lounging around all week? It’s too much, too much for you to hold back any longer.

“Do you ever stop?” you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them.

“Do you ever just let me be for one moment? I’m exhausted, Sukuna! I can’t keep going like this!”

Your voice rings through the room, raw and sharp, and you feel your chest tighten as the tears begin to burn behind your eyes. Fuck, what the hell was that? Every emotion you’ve tried to hold in comes crashing out, your voice rising as you vent your frustration, no longer caring if he’s listening, no longer caring if he even understands.

Sukuna’s smirk fades as he watches you, his gaze narrowing. For a moment, he just stares at you, unreadable and quiet, and you’re ready for some biting retort, ready for him to say something that will only make the anger worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts forward, unfolding himself from the couch in one smooth, measured movement, his expression turning serious.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice low and calm, an unexpected contrast to the storm of emotions raging inside you.

His gaze sharpens as he takes a step closer, his presence like a dark cloud filling the room.

"Do you think I don’t see you, tearing yourself apart for things that don’t matter?"

You shake your head, the frustration still twisting inside your chest.

“You wouldn’t understand. You never have to deal with… with any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and you can’t stop the way your hands press to your temples, every sound, every light feeling like it’s pressing in on you, swelling the ache in your head.

“Everything feels too loud, too much… I can’t think. Fuck, I can’t even breathe.”

The admission comes out in a broken whisper, and suddenly, all the fight leaves you, your shoulders slumping as the first tears start to fall. You try to hold them back, but it’s no use -the exhaustion and frustration come pouring out like rain after a sunny day, leaving you standing there, shattered and vulnerable, feeling raw in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Sukuna’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing, and for a brief moment, something softer flickers in his gaze, an emotion you can’t name. He closes the distance between you, stopping just close enough that his presence grounds you, but not touching, not crowding you in the way he often does. It’s a small gesture, but you feel the shift in the air, an acknowledgment of your boundaries that surprises you.

He waits, watching you with a calm intensity, and then he speaks, his voice firm but oddly gentle.

“Enough of that,” he says, his tone carrying a command you can’t help but obey.

“Let it out. Whatever’s holding you down, get rid of it.”

His words hang heavy in the air. You can’t explain yourself why, but the permission, the demand even, to let yourself break in front of him makes something in you finally give in.

The tears come faster now, unchecked, and before you know it, you’re sobbing like a baby with your hands covering your face as you let go of everything you’ve been holding back for way too long. Those countless shitty conversations, all that fighting, the long appointments, the invoices…

Sukuna’s hand finds its way to your shoulder, his touch solid while being the tiniest bit rough.

“Is that all?” he murmurs, his voice so close it sends a shiver down your spine.

His hand slides down your arm, fingers curling around your wrist as he pulls your hand gently from your face, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek in a gesture that’s surprisingly tender for him.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head, your vision blurred while trying to meet his gaze. His expression is intense, but there’s no mockery there, no hint of the usual smirk that taunts you. Instead, he holds your gaze, letting you see that he’s truly there, that he’s not going to dismiss your pain.

“Whatever broke you today,” he says slowly, “it’s nothing. Nothing compared to you, nothing compared to what you can handle.”

His fingers trace your cheek, his thumb lingering just below your eye, wiping away the last traces of your tears.

“You don’t have to keep it together all the time. But don’t let this-” he gestures around as if encompassing all the stress that brought you here, “- consume you. You’re stronger than that, brat.”

There’s a powerful certainty in his words, a certainty that almost makes you believe it too. And as the last of your tears dry, you feel a strange sense of relief, as if the storm inside you has finally quieted. Maybe…he’s right. Maybe you did worry too much…

For a moment, neither of you moves, the silence stretching between you. Then, he steps back, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his gaze softening as he watches you.

“Next time you’re this worked up, come to me. I’ll remind you of your strength if you forget again.”

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baigepueckers · 2 days ago

Text

Caitlin Clark X Reader

Love and Marriage

It’s a quiet night in, the two of you curled up on the couch, the glow of a movie is on the screen in front of you. The sounds of some romantic comedy is in the background, but you’re only half watching…your attention drifting every so often to the steady rise and fall of Caitlin’s breathing beside you. She has her arm wrapped around you pulling you in close, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your shoulder like she’s memorizing every part of you.

This is your comfort zone …date nights at home, a bowl of popcorn between you and your legs tangled together under the blanket. Caitlin lets out a sigh shifting to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, and you settle deeper into her embrace, feeling that familiar warmth. There’s something about nights like this that makes the whole world fall away…leaving just you and her in this quiet, shared space.

And then just as the movie reaches one of those overly sweet sentimental moments, you hear Caitlin’s voice soft and contemplative. “You know… we could just make it official.” Her words are barely louder than a whisper, but they cut through the stillness making your heart skip a beat.

You glance up, seeing the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth but there’s a seriousness in her eyes, a weight that tells you this is more than a passing thought. “Official?” you ask, feigning confusion to buy yourself a moment to process the familiar, almost expectant look in her eyes.

She laughs softly but there’s a nervousness to it, like she’s treading carefully. “Yeah, like… you know, us… a wedding. I mean, we’ve been together for a bit, baby. What are we waiting?”

The question hovers in the air and you can feel her fingers tighten slightly on your shoulder, her eyes searching yours. You know she means it. She’s been dropping hints here and there for months now, each one a little more insistent than the last.

You remember her glancing over at your friends exchanging their vows during their wedding you attended together last month. Her hand slipping into yours and the way she’d sighed in content, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Or when you’d caught the bouquet and playfully asked “Ohhh is this a sign?” with a mischievous smile even though you’d both laughed it off.

And the other day after you’d spent the weekend visiting her family, she’d told you in the car “Honey, my parents already consider you a part of the family. We could just make it real, you know?” You hadn’t had an answer then and she hadn’t pushed, but it was clear that each little moment like that made her want this even more.

“Cait,” you murmur, shifting so you can meet her gaze. “We don’t need to rush. We’re together and that’s enough for me.” You reach up, brushing a hand through her hair, trying to soothe the flicker of hurt you see in her eyes.

She sighs but it’s soft, like she’s trying to hold back her frustration. “Y/N, it’s just…” She bites her lip her fingers lacing with yours as she gathers her thoughts. “I’ve never been this sure about anyone before. You’re it for me baby. I don’t want to keep waiting, not when I know you’re my forever.”

Her voice cracks slightly and the desperation in her words settle deep in your chest. You’ve always known Caitlin is all in with you, that she’s never questioned this but seeing her like this…her heart on her sleeve makes it all feel that much more real. She wants this with you maybe even needs it, and you realize your hesitation is hurting her in a way you hadn’t fully understood.

“Baby” you say, your voice thick with emotion as you cup her cheek, your thumb brushing softly along her skin. “It’s not that I don’t want it…I love you more than anything. But why can’t we just hold onto what we have in the moment? It doesn’t mean I don’t see you as my forever...because you’re it for me too, Caity.”

She leans into your touch but there’s still a sadness in her eyes, a longing that’s hard to ignore. “I know you love me,” she whispers, her voice barely holding steady. “But I just can’t help wanting you to be mine officially, baby. I want to know you’re mine in every way, that we’re building this life together, no question.”

The way her voice breaks when she says “mine” sends a pang through your chest. You remember her eyes welling with tears as she held your hand in the ER when you’d gotten in a bad car wreck months ago, and how she’d kept mumbling, “You’re gonna be okay, my strong girl.” over and over again, clinging to you as if her touch could keep you safe. It’s like she’s been carrying a worry, that there’s no label, yet to prove this is forever.

You look at her taking in the vulnerability, the feelings she’s sharing. She’s trying so hard to understand and to be patient but you can see it’s breaking her a little more each time you ask her to wait. The thought of watching her hope fade, of letting this tension grow between you is too much.

Silence falls as you search her face, feeling the weight of your own hesitation and your own fears, begin to slip away. And then with a deep breath you realize you don’t want to wait either. Not anymore…not if it means seeing her so full of longing.

Before you can overthink it you reach out, taking her hand and holding it between both of yours. “Okay” you murmur voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes widen and you see a flash of surprise and hope that makes your heart beat faster.

“Okay?” she echoes, almost like she’s afraid to believe it.

You smile feeling a wave of certainty settle over you. “Let’s do it, Caity. Let’s get married…I want this with you, all of it.”

Her breath catches, and her face breaks into a smile that’s all joy. Her eyes misty..you can see a dozen emotions flicker across her face relief, excitement, love..all blurring together as she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her grip is strong as if letting go would mean this might vanish.

“I can’t believe you actually said yes” she whispers..a laugh escaping through the happy tears she’s trying to hold back. “I mean, I knew I’d convince you one day, but…you really want this?”

You nod, your own voice breaking as you pull her in even closer. “Yes, baby. I don’t want to keep holding back, I want it all with you.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before her hand slides to cup your cheek, her eyes full of wonder. She leans in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft and tender, a kiss that speaks of everything she’s ever wanted to say. Her thumb brushes against your cheek as her lips linger against yours, gentle but filled with all the love she’s been holding in her heart. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like the beginning of something you both know will last a lifetime.

She leans back slightly, keeping your face in her hands as she studies you…the disbelief still lighting up her face. Her fingers brush over your cheeks. “You have no idea how happy this makes me… I was starting to think I’d have to propose every day until you finally said yes.”

You laugh softly, your heart swelling. “I don’t know why I kept you waiting so long. I think I just… I was scared of losing what we have. But I see it now…marrying you isn’t going to change anything. I just get to call you my wife.”

She nods, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she looks at you with intensity, that it takes your breath away. “Exactly sweet girl. I can’t believe you’re going to be my actual wife.” Caitlin says giggling.

A different expression drifts across Caitlin’s face and you can tell she’s already thinking ahead, her excitement too much to contain. “I wonder what kind of rings we’ll get” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I mean, you deserve something stunning…something classic and elegant, just like you.”

She glances down at your hand as if imagining the ring there, her fingers tracing over your knuckles with a softness that sends warmth rushing through you. She brings your hand to her mouth and kisses your knuckles. “Maybe a solitaire diamond for you, something timeless” she continues her eyes twinkling. “And for me…maybe something a little less traditional, something that’ll remind me of you every time I look at it.”

You feel yourself blushing as her words sink in, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “You’re already planning the rings?”

“Of course” she says, grinning and looking at you like she can’t believe you’re hers in every way. “And the dresses. Can you imagine how gorgeous you’ll look? I can picture you walking down the aisle towards me…” She trails off the thought of it making her eyes misty all over again.

The mental image of her standing at the end of the aisle waiting for you with that same look of love and certainty she’s wearing now, sends a shiver through you. You can almost see the smile she’ll be trying to hide and the way she’ll probably have to wipe away her tears as she watches you make your way to her.

“God, I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this. A wedding…with you.” Caitlin murmurs after a beat of silence.

You squeeze her hand your own excitement growing as you watch her get lost in the details. “It’s going to be beautiful babe…and knowing you, you’ll make sure it’s perfect like you always do.”

She laughs softly her eyes still bright with the future she’s so clearly picturing. “Perfect would just be the two of us, you know? Somewhere small and quiet…where I can tell you everything you mean to me. But I’ll take a big celebration if that’s what you want.” she adds her voice filled with a love so clear it leaves you breathless.

You smile feeling that same love rushing through you. You never thought saying yes would feel this right, that it would open up a whole world of dreams you didn’t even know you wanted.

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daisymbin · 16 hours ago

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[19:51] - choi seungcheol

a/n: as you can tell by now, im down so bad for this man...the amount of fics I've written for him....sickening

check out my masterlist!

"if you don't love me anymore, you can just tell me."

the words tumble out of seungcheol's mouth as if they’ve been sitting on his tongue for hours, maybe even days. his voice is quiet but firm, and it catches you completely off guard. the two of you are sitting together on the couch, the usual comfortable silence between you both now feeling...strained.

you turn to look at him, your eyes widening at the unexpected confession. "what?" you ask, the confusion evident in your voice. you’ve been in a relationship with him for so long that you never expected him to say something like that.

he doesn’t meet your gaze right away. instead, he stares ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you can tell he’s trying to look calm, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and a flicker of doubt in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it makes your heart twist, and you instinctively reach out to touch his arm.

"cheol..what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your fingers brushing his skin. "why would you even say that?"

he finally turns to face you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. there’s a sadness there, like he’s been carrying something heavy for a while, unsure of whether he should put it down.

"i just... i don’t know," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "i feel like things have been... different between us lately. like maybe you’re not as into me anymore. and it’s been bothering me, but i didn’t know how to bring it up."

your heart drops at his words, and you immediately pull him closer, your hand on his cheek. "cheol-ah, that’s not true," you say urgently. "i’ve been distracted, busy with work, with life. but i still love you. nothing’s changed."

he sighs, his eyes softening as he leans into your touch. "i don’t know," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "it just feels like we’ve been drifting apart. and i’m scared. scared that you don’t love me the way you used to."

you shake your head, a lump forming in your throat. how could he think that? how could he even question your feelings after all this time?

"choi seungcheol," you say, your voice firm now, trying to reassure him. "i’m not going anywhere. i love you more than anything. but i don’t always show it in the ways you expect, and maybe that’s where the disconnect is. but i love you. i always have & i always will."

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitance. "you still love me?" he asks, as though he needs to hear it again.

"yes," you reply, your heart full of emotion. "i still love you. i always will."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face slowly breaking into a smile. it’s a small, relieved smile, but it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in days.

"okay," he says, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "i just needed to hear that."

you smile back at him, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "i’m sorry i made you worry," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "but i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere."

seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "well, don't even think about that then, it won't ever happen."

seungcheol pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against him. "i love you," he whispers, his voice full of sincerity.

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling in your chest.

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softieyuume · 19 hours ago

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Gentle Touch

✿ Sylus x fem!reader

✿ He got hurt protecting you. You return the favor by tending to his wounds.

✿ slight!angst/comfort. fluff. pre-established relationship.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The soft touch of your hands on his skin sent a shiver down Sylus's spine, a stark contrast to the searing pain that had been consuming him just moments ago. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way your hair fell across your face as you concentrated on your task of tending to his injuries.

*She's always been beautiful.* He mused silently, *But seeing her like this... it's different.*

Gone was the cold hostility that had once defined their interactions, replaced by a gentleness that made Sylus's heart ache in a way he never thought possible. He reached out with his uninjured hand, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"You know," He murmured, his voice low and rough, "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be touching me with such care."

You glanced up at him, your tired yet gentle eyes meeting his amused ones. A faint blush colored your cheeks, but you didn't look away.

"Don't read too much into it," You retorted, but there was no bite to your words. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Sylus chuckled, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. "Is that so? And here I thought you'd finally realized how much you need me."

He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about the way you looked at him now, something that made him want to test the boundaries of this newfound closeness.

You rolled your eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Don't push it, Sylus. You're in no position to be cocky."

"And yet," He drawled, leaning in closer with his hands resting on your sides on the bathroom sink where you sat, "You're still here, aren't you? Tending to my wounds like a dutiful nurse."

You huffed, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you continued your ministrations, your touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

Sylus let his eyes drift shut, savoring the moment. He knew it wouldn't last forever, that sooner or later they'd return to their roles as adversaries. But for now, he was content to bask in the warmth of your care, to let himself believe, even if just for a little while, that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between both of you.

"You're too reckless, Sylus," You frowned in frustration, unable to stop yourself from putting a bit of pressure on his wounded arm. "If you hadn't been so determined to protect me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

Sylus winced as your fingers probed a particularly deep gash, the sting of the disinfectant making his breath hitch. He knew he deserved your scolding, knew that he'd been reckless in the heat of the moment. But hearing your voice laced with frustrated concern, with a hint of something deeper, made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to.

"I didn't get hurt because of you," He muttered, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. "I got hurt because I was trying to protect you, kitten."

Your eyes narrowed, your brow furrowing in annoyance. "Protect me? By charging headfirst into an ambush without a plan? That's not protecting me, that's being a damn fool."

Sylus opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue as your hands stilled on his chest, right near his heart. You were looking at him with an intensity that made his heart race, your eyes searching his red ones as if trying to find the answers to questions you haven't yet asked.

"You can't keep doing this," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights. "You can't keep putting yourself in harm's way for me. I'm not worth it."

Sylus felt a surge of anger at your words, at the self-loathing that seemed to radiate off of you in waves. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Don't say that," He growled, his voice low and fierce. "You're worth everything to me, sweetie. Everything. And if that means taking a few bullets to keep you safe, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment, Sylus thought you might push him away, might tell him to go to hell. But instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you let out a shaky breath.

"You're an idiot," You mumbled, but there was no heat behind your words.

Sylus smiled, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek and it took a tremendous amount of willpower to stop himself from taking you right then and there.

He didn't want to risk ruining what chance he could have with you, just having you near him brought him solace he desperately needed.

"Yeah," He agreed, his voice softening, resting his forehead against yours as he left out a shaky exhale. "But I'm your idiot."

And for now, that was enough.

#sylus x you #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds fanfic #lnds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds sylus

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soapssuds · 2 days ago

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Gojo x Fem!Pregnant!Reader pt. 3

He comes back, but at what price?

pt.2

@awthem @just-lilita @aesztik @yozora7154

You fretted with your hands, your body all curled up on the couch as you waited for Nanami to bring Gojo back here, back home. You needed time to gather yourself, but both Shoko and Nanami were insistent that you get this over with. That Gojo needs to know the truth.

You were nervous and it could only worsen when you heard the front door open.

“And here I thought I would be living in a flat by myself, but no I got myself a whole house!”

His voice echoed in that excited manner he always seemed to have, it made you smile.

“I wouldn’t say by yourself, Gojo,” Nanami’s voice rings out.

“You mean…?’

You didn’t hear Nanami say anything else, but he probably nodded towards the living room where you were at (where you promised to stay and not run off somewhere). And all too quickly did you see a flash of white pop right through the entryway of the living room. His eyes directly on you, his blindfold haphazardly pulled off and hanging around his neck as he looked at you.

“Y/n-?”

His voice sort of choked out your name.

“But I thought- you- someone else-“

His mind was seemingly at work as Nanami decided to leave you both alone.

“I’m sorry, Gojo…”

His nose crinkled at his name as he walked up to you, his form seemingly towering over you as he stood in front of you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“We’re married?”

“yes,” you managed to say, your voice small.

“You’re pregnant with my kid.”

You nodded this time, not once trusting your voice.

“And you…weren’t going to tell me…”

“We… got into a fight. You said how it was probably best that we never got together, and when you said you didn’t remember anything I just- I just thought that maybe this was a way of you not wanting this.”

You knew how Gojo was. He was quick to anger. Always lashing out. Especially when he was younger. You saw it when he was arguing with Geto, the higher ups, sometimes with you when you both were too stubborn to admit to being wrong.

Something like this… how could he not get angry?

So you prepared for it. Both mentally and physically.

You were ready for him to yell at you. Ready to be told that “you were really going to walk away because of a single fight.” But it wasn’t just a fight. At least, that’s what you thought.

And instead of being yelled at, Gojo merely fell to the couch beside you. The action made you jump as he captured you into his arms, “fuck…”

His arms pulled you close so his face could fit into the crook of your neck.

“G- gojo?”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, his breath fanning your skin, “call me Satoru or Toru like you did back in school.”

“A- alright, Toru.”

Your voice was still shaky but you could feel Gojo smile against your neck.

“Have we sat like this before?”

You looked down at him, the urge to run your fingers through his hair becoming strong, “yeah… though, lately, before the fight, you have been laying your head on my stomach.”

The moment you said those words, Gojo was already moving causing you to gasp when you felt him lay his head onto your stomach, his body slightly adjusting so he was more comfortable.

“Toru?!”

He looked up at you then, that same charming smile that you fell in love with adorning his lips, “what? I’m only doing what I used to.”

His voice was teasing, his charming smile soon turning cheeky and all too quickly it felt like you both were young and in love teenagers instead of two married adults about to have a baby.

What broke you out of your thoughts was his hands reaching up to caress your cheek.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

You leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry for what I said, all of it. The fight, I mean. It’s hazy and I don’t really remember it, but…I know I was wrong. I mean, how could I ever not want this life with you?”

#amnesia gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo jjk #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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oncasette · 6 hours ago

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𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: 1.1k

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check.

or the one where jj spills his feelings for his best friend.

a/n: i haven't seen s4 and i don't know if i'm going to, but here's this jj fic since i was feeling up for it? question mark? it's all fluff.

masterlist

“Done in there?” JJ calls from where he’s no doubt spread out on your bed. You can’t help the small laugh that trickles out of you as you open the door, still facing the mirror as you finish up your skincare routine. In the corner of the mirror, you catch JJ’s reflection fiddling with a lighter.

“Don’t burn down my bedroom,” you say. He looks up at you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He flips the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, already being bullied down by the high setting on your ceiling fan.

“What? Don’t trust me?” he smirks.

“Not even a bit,” you chirp, setting all of your creams and oils back into your medicine cabinet.

He sets the lighter down on your nightstand.

“Comfy?” you giggle, watching as he snuggles down further under your plush duvet. You’re glad you made him change, not sure you’d ever get the dirt and sweat from his clothes out of your sheets. He nods, humming. You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you shut the bathroom light off and slide under the covers beside him. It’s almost instantaneous that JJ molds to your side, pushing up your arm in order to lay his head against your shoulder, nose in your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your stomach flutters a bit.

JJ had always been touchy with you. You like to think that he does it with everyone, that that was just his nature. You’d seen him sling an arm around Pope at the Boneyard, tug Kiara into a hug, spin her around, even, kiss John B on the cheek in some of his more emphatic moments. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he was with you. The lingering touches, the snuggling, the sleepovers, the kisses against your temple. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been out on the HMS without him putting his hat on you. It’s friendly enough for you to brush off, for the most part. For you to push it all down and justify his actions when the rest of the pogues prod you for information.

It’s moments like this, though–alone, away from prying eyes–that you allow yourself to pretend. Just a little.

You bring up a hand to his hair and run the tips of your nails across his scalp. He purrs, curling closer into you and you feel his eyelashes brush your skin as his eyes close.

“‘S it raining?” he mumbles into you. His hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for the hand not currently in his hair. Slowly, nearly leaving goosebumps beneath his fingers, he intertwines his fingers with yours. There’s no way this is platonic. Right? Your brain screams at you.

“What?” you hum, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Rain. From the sky. Outside.”

You look at the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, J, it’s raining.”

He smiles, kissing the skin already beneath his lips. That’s new.

“I like the rain,” he chirps, voice surprisingly drowsy for how energetic he’d been before you’d left for your shower.

“Do you?”

He nods, humming. “Makes everything slow down a bit.”

“I didn’t think you liked slowing down,” you say, your fingers moving down from his hair to ghost over his back.

“I like slowing down when I’m with you,” he shrugs. You feel him shudder slightly when your nails gently scrape across his shoulder blades. “Plus, I look sexy when I’m all drenched like that.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he scoffs, head snapping up to glare at you pitifully.

“Smug bastard,” you laugh. He winks as his lips curl into a fittingly smug smirk.

“You love it,” he says. His hand squeezes yours, still held tight in his grasp. You don’t respond in words, instead opting to squeeze his hand back. You feel his heart rate jump against your ribs. His eyes flicker between yours. The smirk slowly drops into something a little less cocky. Something a little softer. Warmer. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. It’s only when his gaze moves down to your lips that your own breath stutters. That definitely can’t be platonic.

He whispers your name so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so close.

“I think I love you,” he says. What.

“I love you, too, J,” you say, pasting on your friendliest voice to try and ignore the way his breath is now fanning over your face. He smells like the gum he’d stolen from your car.

“No, I mean…” he clamps his eyes shut. “I do love you, like that, like a friend. Of course I do, you’re my best friend-”

“John B’s your best friend,” you cut him off, because there’s no way this is actually happening.

“Listen, just… I,” he drops his head against your sternum, frustration seeming to roll off of him in waves.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” you say softly.

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he grunts.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Pretending.

“Pretending?” you ask, placing a hand on his cheek to pull his gaze back up to yours. You smile softly at the way he nuzzles into your palm.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks. His eyes are closed, his nose pressed against your thumb. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You need more than these clipped comments. Stupidly, something deeper in the back of your mind can’t settle for even the chance of you misconstruing this. Of being wrong.

“Obvious about what, J?”

“I already told you,” he whispers. He just barely kisses the pad of your thumb.

“Tell me again,” you beg, holding your breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Good? That’s all you have to say? I’m pouring my heart out here, baby,” he huffs and your heart nearly stops altogether. A bewildered giggle slips out of you.

“That’s good because I… uh,” you swallow. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t answer this time. He slides up the last couple of inches to press his lips against yours. His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, bringing your mouth even harder against his. His other hand squeezes yours for dear life.

You’d kissed him before. On New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. But, that had been a quick, chaste peck between friends and you’d been able to blame the fireworks behind your eyelids on the holiday, and this. This was different. Much, much different. There were sparks tingling down to the tips of your toes. You pull back when you can no longer justify ignoring your need for oxygen and nearly whine when JJ chases your lips.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice is hoarse.

“You said that,” you giggle, brain still a little hazy.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get me to stop saying it now,” he says. His body weight is almost fully pressed onto you as he ducks his head to place short kisses against your neck. Your fingers find his hair again, combing through the silky strands. You mentally thank him for stealing your shampoo.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic

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magnificentstrawberryomen · 1 day ago

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warm and alive (noah sebastian x reader one shot)

18+, mdni, sexual talk, smut, f oral receiving, p and v unprotected (wrap it before u tap it ;))

it was late in the evening, and the dark had already taken over the sky. the puffs of air escaping from my lips raised up in the air, disappearing like smoke around me. it was cold outside, making me bury my hands deeper in the pockets of my black coat, that was despite the furry layer on the inside failing to keep me warm tonight.

music was blasting through my ears, distracting me and keeping me company on my walk home. despite my mind always wandering off because of the melodies and lyrics creating images inside my mind because i loved to daydream, i was focused enough to also be in enough touch of my surroundings and get into my street safely.

as i looked around me, the apartment building across from my own had several lights on in different windows. most were just the classic warm yellow one, and some had different colors, like red, pink or blue. my eyes dart around, and pause at a certain window. a tall figure, belonging to a young man, leans on his open window with both his elbows, as long drags of his cigarette escapes from his mouth. he was fully covered in all kinds of colored, mostly faded tattoos. i had never seen him before, he must have just moved in here, since the apartment was empty for a week or two.

his dark eyes landed back down on me, making contact, looking intrigued and interested as they were slightly narrowed, taking in my physique quickly. his dark chocolate, mid long hair was slightly pushed back, just a strand hanging in front of his eyes, and a tight black tee shows how well trained his arms and chest were. it made my heart jump for a moment, and my throat turned slightly tighter because of some nerves kicking in, a small flutter going through my stomach.

there was absolutely no denying that this man was extremely attractive, and by the way his lips that were going back around his cigarette turned into a slight smirk he clearly noticed my slightly more nervous behavior, and i quickly looked down again, eyes stuck on the concrete tiles underneath my feet, even though they rather stayed on the man instead, completely captivated by him already.

and we both didn't seem to be able to forget that short moment of observation. the following week, every time i'd come home back from work he'd be there again, hanging out the window, sometimes sitting on his windowsill with one leg hanging out whilst smoking, the other one stretched out in front of him. every single time, we would make eye contact. every day it would be longer, by looking at him earlier as i crossed my street. the more we did it, the less shy i became, not letting my eyes dart away that easily like i did before. he pulled me in like some magnet, with a strong electric force, and it did more and more with me each time.

blushing, a rapid heartbeat---and breathing even at some point, as i became more and more hypnotized by his longing stare---trembling legs, stomach in knots and heat in my chest, but most of all, a very frustrating feeling between my goddamn thighs as well. and the longer we would stare, the quicker and stronger it was there.

and he absolutely knew, because he would lick his lips, he would take a longer drag of his cigarette, rolling it around between his long wise and middle finger, and his eyes became darker and more intense. they would take in every step, every inhale, every movement of my curves, every outfit i'd wear, the way my hair was styled that day, the way i was batting my lashes at him.

we longed for each other, but still wouldn't say a word.

one evening, as i once again grew tired of the hooks of my bra pressing uncomfortably against my back, i decided to take it off, something i always do after a long day of work. as i walked towards the window of my bedroom to close the curtains, my heart made a big jump---he was there. right in my view, right across my own window, facing me as well.

a lump appeared in my throat, and he stared right back. his window was closed now, and he was not hanging out of it as usual with a cigarette in hand---instead it seemed like he was just about to close his own curtains as well. we were literally mirroring the same pose, having our curtain in hand, but pausing as soon as our eyes met. my heart was hammering, and he was just staring, as if he was waiting, waiting for my next move---almost daring me to make a move.

and then, as heat was spreading not only to my cheeks but also my whole entire body, i took off my shirt, letting it drop to the ground, revealing my bra i was about to take off next. the corners of his mouth slowly and slightly curled up, eyes narrowing as usual, taking in the sight of my chest in the black lace. one corner of my lips couldn't help but twitched up as well---sultry like, mischievous wise.

then, i slowly slid the straps off my shoulders, and it almost looked like that made his breath hitch in his throat for a moment. one of my hands slowly got behind my back, the daring glimmer of my own eyes never leaving his, unclasping it. the lace fell to the ground, revealing my chest to him, and that made one of his brows rise in amusement, his pupils seeming to get darker somehow, blending in with the color of his irises.

my smile slightly widened as i took in his little needy expression, his eyes ranking down as if he wished he could take the rest off me as well, and i then closed the curtains---letting a big shaky breath escape from my lips that i pulled between my teeth next.

fuck, that excited me a lot, and i saw his lustful eyes in front of me still, as i closed my own. my lips then slightly parted as more heavy breathing escaped, feeling worked up, feeling desperate. desperate for my mysterious and attractive neighbor to do something about it, instead of my trembling fingers that went down slowly.

but after a few minutes, i then heard some loud knocking on my door downstairs, making me open my eyes and jumping me awake out of my steamy trance. a frustrated sound escaped my mouth as my heart hammered in my chest, quickly putting on a robe as i made my way down stairs, wondering who needs me at this time after work.

when i opened the door, i needed to tightly hold the door handle for support of not stumbling backwards, as i met the two dark brown eyes of the neighbor from across the street now standing in front of me. and god, he was even taller like this, making me need to tilt my head up to him, my eyes taking him in quickly before doing so. he was wearing a loose tank top with sweats underneath despite the weather, and his muscular, tattooed arms were being exposed even more, and a part of his just as tattooed chest as well.

'good evening,' his deep, slightly hoarse voice greeted me from the cold, chilly air outside, both making me slightly shiver. his eyes slowly ranked to my robe, being slightly loose because of the quick knot i had to make to hold the thin, light blue fabric together. the corner of his mouth slightly tugged up because of that, his stare like fire burning right through me, before meeting my gaze again.

'i had to stop by after that little show you did for me,' he then continued, his hands in the pocket of his sweats as he slightly tilted his head to the side, which made it hard for me to function properly, to get out my first words to him as smoothly as he seemed to be able to talk to me.

i cleared my throat and took in a quiet, shaky breath before answering with a slow smug expression appearing on my flustered face, 'for you? that's interesting. i think you were just lucky to be there at that moment. always take my bra off after a long day of work.'

he hummed at that with an amused twinkle and smile on his face. 'is that so? well, guess you can call me really lucky then,' he smirked, not seeming to believe my words, and my own grin turned wider as i leaned my head against the door, still holding it.

'so you're saying that i came here for disappointment? can't expect you to continue it, hm?' he then added, and i softly chuckled. the chemistry between us was thick, strong and heated already, leaving me aching for more, aching how much more needy i could get him for me, how much more he could worship my body by just his lustful stare.

'oh, i didn't say that,' i then responded, stepping slightly more aside, a gesture that he could come in. as he was about to enter with a smug and amused glimmer in his eyes still, i then quickly stepped in front of him, gently placing my small hand on his chest, which caused him to raise both his eyebrows in question.

'at least tell me your name, neighbor.' my hand slowly removed itself from his chest by going up and down first, his eyes flickering down at it, before then meeting my own again with a intrigued smirk.

'noah,' he answered, and i clicked my tongue.

'y/n,' i introduced myself back, and that made his smirk only broaden, the twinkle in his eyes growing even more, as if he knew he would enjoy using my name for whatever dirty fantasies he was holding captured inside his mind.

'well, y/n, your little relief for your back after your long day of work wasn't the only time i've noticed you, but you know that, noah then spoke, his husky voice closer to me now that he slowly stepped inside, closing the door behind him. the more steps he took, the more i became pressed against the wall.

'your little adorable walk every time you came home from work, all lost in your music, coming out of those black matching headphones of yours, matching your outfits', he continued, his body being towered over my smaller frame, and i gulped in both nerves and excitement, already clenching now and then by the way he looked down on me and spoke every word so sultry and deeply alone. 'so concentrated whilst pulling those gorgeous lips of yours between your teeth now and then.'

noah slowly moved his large hand to my chin, tilting my face even more up to him as he brushed my lips with his thumbs, seemed to be mesmerized by it, craving it. my legs have already begun to tremble in need of him, just by that small touch alone, and he seemed to be very amused by the way i reacted to it, as his devious smile grew bigger.

'and those skirts? don't you think they are a little short, darling? i mean, i am not complaining, but they drove me crazy all week. made me think of how great the view would be in front of me, just like those pretty tight jeans you're wearing right now.'

he slowly turned me around, causing me to let out a shaky breath of both excitement and anticipation, pushing me against the wall. he let out a deep, satisfied hum, practically feeling his stare burn through the fucking fabric. but as soon as his hands found my behind, squeezing it eagerly, he made me close to snapping completely more and more.

'fuck. feels even more firm than i imagined.' noah's voice sounded even more huskier than before, and shit, it made me even more aroused than i already was.

his hands slowly moved upwards, over the smooth fabric of my bathrobe, squeezing my chest even tighter than my ass, making me yelp out of surprise and pleasure. his lips already found my ear quickly after that, his hot breath fanning over it and my neck, his breathing fast and ragged.

'not gonna lie, i enjoyed our little eye fucking this week, but damn, the little sounds you make are even better darling,' he breathed, making me slightly whimper, his hands still holding my breasts firmly, his thumbs lightly rubbing over it. his hips were grinding against my behind, making me able to feel his own excitement grow.

'wonder what else i can bring out of you, and how, my pretty girl. you in? you want that?'

'yes,' i eagerly breathed out, and that made him turn me around in a quick movement, his own body being pushed flush against mine, before he then grabbed me by my legs, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around him, and held me steady in his strong arms as a mischievous, dark smile grew on his attractive face.

'yeah?' he cooed, his smug fucking smile only growing by that, and it made me want to crash my own lips against him, to make him breathless and even more eager for me. 'glad to hear that, my pretty neighbor. cause since the first time we made eye contact, i wasn't able to stop fantasizing about you.'

my cheeks flushed by hearing that, my heart rate sped up, my hands shaking by anticipation. 'really hm?' i couldn't help but slightly smirk in filthy amusement, and he mirrored it right away as he nodded.

'mhm. how could my cock not get hard by seeing you all small and needy for me down there on the street? surely had to do something about it each time,' he shrugged, and it knocked the breath out of me for a moment, the filthy words rolling off his tongue just like that. 'but this, oh darling this, is the best way to do something about those cravings for you.'

noah pressed his hard bulge even harder against my damp core, slightly rubbing, making the both of us groan and whimper.

'fuck baby, i don't know how you do it, but i already feel you eagerness through your jeans. so wet already hmm? so ready to be taken by me?'

i heavily nodded at that, pulling my teeth between my lips, and his dark eyes flickered down to it, before then hungrily capturing his own with mine. my own tongue immediately pushed through it, dancing with his, tasting the deliciousness of his need for me.

noah groaned as i pulled his hair as my hands found it, flushing his body even more against mine, before then breaking the kiss to look at me with heavy breathing, every being of him filled with lust and desire for me. 'where do you want to continue this, love?'

'use those trained muscles of yours and carry me upstairs,' i teased him with a sly smile, causing him to deeply chuckle with amusement before then doing what was said, and his quick pace took me to my queen-sized bed in no time.

he placed me down on it in a sitting position, kneeling down between my legs already quickly that he then pushed apart, a wicked smile on his face, painted by the light of the small lamp on the nightstand besides us, and the left overs of the dark of the room around us contoured the rest of his pretty features.

'let me taste you, y/n,' noah whispered hoarsely as his gaze got down to my pants, then back to me again, and i nodded, causing him to instantly begin to unbutton my jeans, pulling it off my legs, his eyes slightly widening at the sight of my thin, see through panties that covered my aching core.

'jesus,' he breathed after a gulp, 'you always wear this underneath?'

'not always,' i smirked, his eyes going back up to mine. 'you are just in luck. again.'

'fuck, yes i am,' he rasped out, his lean fingers slowly and teasingly rubbing up and down the thin lace fabric, which made me shift eagerly against the mattress underneath me with a slight groan. he smiled amusingly at that, looking at me for a moment with a mischievous glint before then tucking my panties down.

'gonna taste you real good y/n, every single inch, every single drop coming out of you, yeah?' noah mumbled, spreading my legs even more, a determined and hungry look on his face. 'have thought about this so much. fuck, can't imagine how good you'd feel wrapped around me, tight and warm.'

his words, combined by the way he looks at my eagerness and rubs and teases it slowly, his warm hands going up and down my thighs as well, makes me moan impatiently, making his lips twitch again, before then finally moving his head down---making fucking eye contact as he flicks his tongue slowly and lightly against me, and my head already quickly dropped back into my shoulders as a low groan escaped my throat.

the feeling of his tongue was amazing, better than i had imagined myself too, and worked slowly against my bud once more before then going deeper inside my slit, sucking and tasting me more intensely, and i was not shy to let him know how much i enjoyed it, the sounds of pure bliss surrounding us both. it made him moan against my clit, vibrating with even more pleasure, humming in appreciation of tasting me, in enjoyment of exploring every inch of me like he promised me he would.

'god,' he then groaned as he pulled back, his lips glinting with my arousal in the dim light, and it made my breathing sped up even more. 'i would love to make you cum like this, but i need to---have to feel you around my cock baby, need to bury me inside of you real deep.'

'please do, please take me,' i eagerly stammered out in between ragged breaths, and he got up and then pulled his tank top over his head in a fast and smooth movement, dropping his sweatpants next, his white underwear showing his need for me very clearly, and it made me even more needy for him.

'that's right baby, you got me so fucking hard for you,' he groaned as he noticed my eyes wandering down, dropping his underwear next, making them widen slightly, and i blinked to hide it quickly.

noah hovered over me as i moved my body up my bed to let my head rest against my comfortable pillow, and he positioned himself between my legs, feeling his length already teasing my entrance, and it caused me to buck my hips up in high anticipation, and it let his wicked grin return.

'such a eager little thing you are. ready to be taken by me, darling?'

i nodded as i breathed out a greedy yes, and his pretty brown eyes darkened even more, hypnotizing me as it made my head spin with need as well. he then pushed himself in, and i let out a harsh gasp as his eyes rolled back.

'jesus y/n. so fucking ready for me---' he started to move, his hands placed around both sides of my head, his hands digging into the fabric of my pillow, 'and feeling like a fucking delight. taking me so well.'

'noah,' i moaned out as my eyes shut, jaw dropped by the overwhelming sensations. it made him slip his tongue in as he pulled me into a passionate kiss, our moans and groans muffed by our lips.

'you cry my name so beautifully y/n, need to hear that more than just once. need to hear it as much as possible,' noah panted, trusting faster and deeper, creating a heavenly rhythm between our sweaty bodies, the sounds of our skin adding more heat for us like fuel lighting the flame.

and i cried his name out loud over and over again, like a prayer, like the one thing i only needed that moment, and it was true, he gave me everything i craved. he brushed my messy hair out of my face now and then, making our eye contact intense and strong, adding even more connection between us.

from that moment on, i knew that noah would become more than just my neighbor that captured my body and soul---he would become everything i needed and more, the only fire that would bring me warm and alive in these cold winter days.

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