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devilishchaos · 1 day ago

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Shower | Lando Norris Imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: Y/N and Lando have soft shower sex.

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration (don’t do it!!! stay safe!), hair grabbing, swallowing, use of pet names

AN: domestic Lando, because I'm a sucker for domesticity <3. also..not me and yet another shower sex fic. also pt.2..am I back? I don't know, just wanted to write about Lando. enjoy x

Word Count: 2 517 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

You had it coming for a while, you knew it in the back of your mind. And it’s not like you weren’t looking forward to it, but just that the urges, that were slowly growing stronger for Lando, inside of you took a backseat as real world deadlines threatened to overcome you.

Lando had been staying home a lot more than usual, and found himself with a rare two-week break between races, a welcome pause in the relentless pace of the Formula 1 calendar. After months of high-pressure performances and grueling travel schedules, the weariness has started to catch up with him, coupled with the need to be with you and make up for the lost time, due to his hectic schedule, caused him to not want to leave the house.

Coming back from work every evening, you were greeted with the sight of him whipping up something simple but delicious for you to feast on, his eyes getting all crinkled up as a smile covered his face whenever he heard you yell “I'm home!”. He was playing the part of a perfect boyfriend to the T and you really couldn’t have been more thankful for everything that he was doing for you, even though you couldn’t always say it out loud.

But behind his loving exterior was something he wasn’t really telling you, for fear of coming across as selfish when he could clearly see the amount of stress you were already in. You weren’t blind though and just like him, you too could see that he was in need of some affection and some attention, was in need of someone telling him he did well on the circuit and was still doing well at home, and you also knew you were that someone.

You could feel it in his touch, lingering just a second longer than necessary, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your skin. You could feel it in his kisses, turning hot and fervent despite starting out as soft and gentle. You knew he needed it and you knew he wasn’t going to be explicit enough and say it out loud nor was he going to pressure you into doing something you didn’t have the energy to do.

Yet upon hearing the slow pitter-patter of water as you came back home, you had found your feet leading you towards the bathroom, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of Lando taking a shower. The bathroom door unlocked as always, his steamy silhouette could be seen through the glass wall. You couldn’t tell what came over you in that moment, but before you could stop yourself, your hands were moving on their own, getting rid of your clothing piece by piece, until you were naked.

Your hand came resting against the glass as you peeked inside, taking in the sight in front of you. Lando looks gorgeous, the water trickling down his body and hugging him at all the right places, his shoulders and hipbones, making you want to lick the wetness away. The sight alone is enough to make you press your legs closer together, a need growing inside of you as you take your time admiring the beauty that is your boyfriend.

Lando had his head under the water, his wet curls sticking to his forehead and the side of his face, his mouth slightly parted to let the warm water hit his tongue as he was lost in thought. And to say that he was beyond surprised when he opened his eyes and found you on the other side of the glass, naked and looking nothing but breathtaking to him, would be an understatement. A groan escapes his lips under his breath as he stares at you, his eyes trailing down, taking in your completely naked body and swallowing thickly, a hunger rising in him, just looking at you.

That is, until a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting Lando’s as he calls you out.

“Baby?” He murmurs, his voice sounding low as the water still hitting his face causes his words to come out muffled, but you could still hear that his tone was filled with need and anticipation. His left hand moves from where it was against the wall to press against the glass, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a silent conversation happening between you within just that moment, his eyes full of want, making his desire for you clear.

"I'm home" you say in a soft murmur.

“Yeah I can see that..” Lando mutters, his eyes still glued to you through the glass, his mouth going dry as his eyes rake you up and down, taking in every inch of you as if it was the first time he was seeing you like that. He was trying to focus hard on not letting his eyes linger between your legs, because the thought of it already has his brain short circuit.

“You want to join me in here?” He questions, his fingers tapping the glass lightly, giving a small smirk.

Lando can’t fight the grin that appears on his face as you nod, his mind already racing over what the two of you would do. He grabs the shower glass and pushes it open, his arms spreading out towards you as a silent invitation for you to come inside. He can’t wait to touch you again, to feel your skin against his, to hear your soft moans, but even amidst all of that he still has a tiny voice inside his head reminding him that you’re probably tired.

Lando closes the glass door back when you make your way inside, and all it takes is a couple of seconds for him to pull you into his chest against his wet, warm body, his strong arms wrapping around you gently. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he buries his face into your neck, the stress melting away from him just from having you close. His hands move up and down against your wet back, the water trickling between you.

He can tell what you’re planning and while it is something he’s been craving all these past days or weeks, now that you were right in front of him, he feels as if just having you so close to him is enough. And so he decides to show you, placing the softest of kisses to your crown as his grip tightens around your waist, the sensation making you lift your head up from his chest, a smile on your face.

“You are so beautiful.” Lando whispers and that’s all you need to lose your footing.

Before either of you can realize, your lips are moving in sync with his, a rhythm both familiar and new, being set up as you dance around your desires. You don’t know who started it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. All you can think of in that moment is the way his tongue explores every inch of your mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you get lost in the love only he can give you. And it’s the same for Lando, his senses getting overwhelmed as he finds himself getting high on you, on the way you make him feel. You’re all he could ever want and more, and every time you touch him, it feels like you’re reminding him of the reason he’s alive.

So he takes it in his stride, finally letting go of his fears and his worries, completely losing himself in you, in the love he feels for you. His hands roam all over your water-covered body, from your cheeks to your neck to your breasts and hips, and he takes his sweet time caressing and feeling every single one of them, just like you do too, your own hands lying pressed flat against his toned body. You touch him everywhere, letting your focus shift from his hair to his biceps to the round cheeks of his ass, and as you do so, you also find yourself pulling away from his lips, kissing down his body, crouching lower and lower till you’re on your knees in front of him.

The sight makes something turn on inside of Lando’s brain, his hands making their way to your cheeks again. But this time, he’s just a little more assertive, pulling you closer to his crotch, because he can tell you already have eyes for his cock.

“Want a taste?” he asks, his voice hoarse already and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. You can only nod at that, biting your lip as you lean in, placing a kiss to his tip. And from the sigh that escapes from Lando’s mouth at the small gesture, you know it’s just like the first time for him, over and over again.

“Then suck on it, baby.” his voice calls out again, pulling you out of your thoughts.

With that, your hands are quick to get wrapped around his shaft as you take him into your mouth, making him throw his head back in the slightest of pleasure. As your tongue begins to roll around his head, you make sure to savor the heavenly taste of his finest delicacy, your teeth grazing against his flesh as you decide to make up for the time and the rounds you’ve lost out on.

His tip was already leaking, his body eagerly reacting to your touch, the anticipation building within him. He swallowed, his words caught in his throat, all he could do was let out a groan in response. His hips instinctively moved forward, pushing his cock further into your mouth, his body seeking more pleasure, more of you. He was powerless to the sensations coursing through him, every swipe of your tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

"More," he found himself whispering, his voice rough "I want you to swirl your tongue around the tip, take it into your mouth, then-" he whispered, his eyes flicking down to you, the intensity in his gaze burning with need "Push your tongue into the slit, please.”

Lando's body tensed, a low groan escaping him as you did as he asked, his eyes falling shut, his face flushed, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back.

"Good girl," he groaned, his words husky, his voice filled with appreciation and a hint of dominance.

Lando's eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping him as your free hand found his balls. His body tensed, his fingers gripping your hair a little tighter, his hips instinctively pushing forward in a shallow thrust.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with need, his words a husky rasp as he tried to control himself, his body trembling.

As you pick up the pace, your surroundings fade away, the sound of the water acting as background music while you continue to give head to Lando, enjoying the effect you have on him. His hands guide you along, resting at your head, as your own take to worship his cock, your cheeks hollowed out to the max. Maybe it’s the lack of touch that he’s been forced to go through for the past weeks, or maybe it’s the way you seem so determined on bringing him to his knees, but Lando can’t seem to control the urge to cum right then and there, his body involuntarily thrusting his dick right down your throat and making you choke.

“Go faster, please.” he groans, pretty sounds emanating from deep inside his chest as you oblige, going faster and harder as you begin deepthroating him. Countdown from ten in your head and that’s all you need to have him lose it, his seed seeping into your mouth as you lap every bit up. He tastes just as you remember or maybe even better because it’s been so long. As the last drops trickle down your throat, you let out a sigh of satisfaction, licking your lips before gripping his thighs to pull yourself back up.

Your eyes meet his and you don’t miss the way he smiles at you, and you can’t help but ask, “Was I good?” and make him chuckle at your cuteness.

“Incredible as always, love.” Lando says, leaning in to catch your lips in another kiss, his body weight pushing you flat against the glass wall. Maybe it’s you imagining things, but he somehow tastes even sweeter now, the aftertaste of his cum still fresh on your tongue as you make out with him once more. Parting your mouth open with his own tongue, he doesn’t leave a single spot untouched as his cock prods around your heat, silently seeking entrance.

And you’re only too keen on granting him that, a whimper making its way out of you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than closer.

“I n- need you..” you whine, kissing him harder as you feel yourself grow more needy by the second. Lucky for you though, your boyfriend is a great listener, listening to your demand as he thrusts himself into you, penetrating into your pussy at long last. He feels so delicious like that, moving in and out of you as your thighs squeeze around his, your walls tightening around his length as he fills you up with himself.

You’re a moaning, struggling mess within seconds, the water making everything foggy and slippery as he continues to thrust in you, massaging all the right places you didn’t even know existed inside of you up until you started dating. Every move of his hips, as they roll against yours, sends you into a frenzy, gibberish rolling off your tongue as he starts speeding up more and more. Your bodies mold into one as you claw at each other’s skin, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. You’re in bliss at that moment, the pent up stress from work and the sexual frustration finally coming to the fore and bursting like a bubble as you make love.

He cums first, his cock still sensitive from your lip-service as his load fills you up to the brim, his thrusts not stopping as he leads you to your own orgasm. It feels like an eternity and like a single second at the same time, your sense of being completely distorted as you focus only on the pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as he pumps into you one last time, making you ride out your climax in style and leaving you panting for air.

As a new slew of moans racks through your body, he vows to drown them out in a kiss with his hands holding you in place. When he pulls away, the expression on his face is the most lovesick one you’ve ever seen.

“Thank you.” is all he says, but it’s enough to fill your heart up with warmth as he pulls away, ready to dry you up and lead you to the bed for another round.

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 imagines

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armpirate · 2 days ago

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Borrowed Skin || JJK

pairing: JK x fem!reader || Obsessive love, Impersonation

w.c.: 6.3k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, teasing (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 28 minutes

Summary: Something felt different about your boyfriend, Junghoon, after not seeing each other for four days, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Familiar gestures felt slightly foreign, shared memories were met with hesitation, and the faintest shadows of someone else lingered in his eyes. What you didn't know was that Jungkook, his twin brother, had killed your boyfriend to take his place. Hungry for a life he could never have any other way, he came up with a plan in order to claim the love he had always desired.

MASTERLIST

It was late evening, and your phone buzzed with a message from Junghoon, your boyfriend. You met a few years ago. It was like the first scene of the couple in a romantic movie, with your hands brushing momentarily as you both went to pick up the same thing in the supermarket. You could almost say it was instant, just one look and a bit of conversation, and you both knew neither wanted to move away from each other.

Everything was perfect, except for his brother, Jungkook. They were almost identical, except for the tattoos on Junghoon's arm that covered his full sleeve, which his brother didn't have. Same with their piercings. Jungkook only had a few on his ears, while Junghoon also had two on his lips.

The differences weren't only physical:

Junghoon was always the responsible one, the kind of person who double-checked plans and took pride in being dependable. He had a steady, grounded energy that made you feel safe. You loved that about him. He was attentive, but not overly sentimental, he showed his care through actions, not words. Although, lately, that side of him was also fading.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He thrived on chaos, living in the moment without thinking of consequences. He'd always been a wildcard, the kind of guy who could light up a room but also burn it down. And the kind of guy who would constantly get Junghoon in trouble constantly when they were still close.

You remembered the tension between them vividly: Junghoon often vented about Jungkook's reckless choices, saying things like, "He thinks life's a game, but it's not. One day, he's going to go too far." Jungkook would retaliate with sarcastic remarks, mocking Junghoon for being too uptight.

Their arguments weren't just sibling spats, they were deep, filled with years of unresolved jealousy and blame. It made it easy for you to tell them apart, not just in personality but even in how they carried themselves. Junghoon's calm demeanor was worlds away from Jungkook's restless energy, which always ended up with your boyfriend also being dragged in whatever problem he was in.

You sighed when reading your boyfriend's text. He had been away all weekend, he actually canceled plans with you at the last minute on Friday, which you simply shrugged off, because it wasn't the first time it happened. He always had a last minute conference for his book, a last minute presentation or interview he couldn't place.

Junghoon: What are you doing?

Y/n: I'm coming back home... Where are you?

Junghoon: I went to the gym

Y/n: You? To the gym? You hate it...

Junghoon: Yup. Thought it'd be time to give it a chance

You simply rolled your eyes, leaving your small bag at the passenger's side of your car, your lip trapped under your teeth as you looked at the screen.

Junghoon: Do you want to do something now?

Y/n: Like what?

Junghoon: Prepare some blankets and some snacks, we're cuddling until dinner time.

You were confused, but you weren't going to oppose him. You actually liked the idea of doing something together after so long.

Junghoon: I'm on my way

Y/n: Okay. I'm shopping, but I'll be there in 10. Use your keys if early

Jungkook smiled at the text looking back at him, his smirk widening at the idea of seeing you after so long, for the first time in Junghoon's skin. He had always seen you from afar, always hooked on his brother's arm, but that night things would be different.

Even if it took him erasing Junghoon from the equation and taking his place, Jungkook would be finally able to be right where he belonged: right next to you.

His heartbeat kept beating faster as he approached your building... And a question popped up: would you be able to tell he wasn't Junghoon? Or would he be able to play your boyfriend so well that you wouldn't notice?

After he parked the motorbike, he played with the keys in his hand, the item tingling in his fingers as he looked at the mailbox to confirm which one was your door.

The house was a reflection of you: warm and orderly, with small imperfections that spoke of a life lived rather than curated. He exhaled slowly, steadying the tremor in his fingers. That wasn't the first step; that had been weeks ago. But this was the moment he crossed the line, fully stepping into Junghoon's life. Into your life. Officially adopting an identity and a personality that didn't belong to him only so he'd be able to be with you.

"Love?" his voice sounded a bit deeper than usual when calling for you.

After not hearing from you after a few seconds, he assumed you didn't arrive yet and closed the door behind him. His helmet rested on the backrest of your couch as he planned on walking around. You didn't have many details in the living room, but it was obvious on the small frames placed on the shelves on both sides of your TV that you liked to make it known that house was yours. Guilt and worry held onto his chest as his eyes fell on a picture you had with Junghoon, then to a new one.

And he wondered... was he going to be able to play the perfect boyfriend his brother always was?

Before he could think any deeply about it, the door clicked behind him, and he suddenly turned to see you. Your small frame was bent more towards one side than the other, because the weight of the bags you were carrying in one hand was too heavy.

Jungkook walked to you before you could open your mouth, his hands brushing against yours and forcing him to ignore the electricity to act as normal as he could.

"Thank you, love" you whispered, closing the door.

His walk was intuitive, thanking himself for being early and taking a look around your place to know where things were. Your tracks stopped when you spotted the helmet, ignoring the rustle from the bags in the kitchen.

"What's with the helmet?" you asked confused.

For a moment, he didn't respond, his face unreadable. Then he laughed, a little too quickly, a little too loud. "Oh, that? It's not mine. It's... a friend's. He brought me on his motorbike. I've been meaning to return it."

You frowned. "A friend's?"

He shrugged, still moving inside the kitchen, knowing his lie would be caught as soon as you looked him in the eye. "Yeah, someone I met at the gym" he said, mentioning it like it was no big deal.

And it wouldn't be... if it weren't because his brother wasn't the perfect boyfriend he always showed off to be.

He assumed you'd already know everyone in Junghoon's workplace and his group of friends, adding someone in the picture from a background you didn't know of was a quick way of escaping, without any more questions.

You nodded slowly, still trying to process the oddness of it all. You didn't want to be paranoid. Hell, you promised you left behind all of your insecurities and doubts after what happened, but you couldn't help but let all of those feelings come back at you again with Junghoon's strange behavior that night. Showing up in the middle of the night, so eager to see you, with that same nervousness... It almost felt like a throwback to...

You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts.

"Do I know this friend?" you asked, half-joking, trying to shake the strange feeling gnawing at your stomach.

He paused, the rustle of bags suddenly stopping. "I don't think so," he said lightly. "I told you it was someone from the gym."

The answer should have satisfied you, but it didn't. Something about the way he avoided any type of honesty when he spoke made your chest tighten. You didn't push further, though. You told yourself it was nothing -Junghoon was just tired. Maybe he really had changed, even in small ways. People did, right?

The rustle of the bags came back as you started making your way to the kitchen, his wide back completely eclipsing whatever he was doing on the counter. "Come on," he said, flashing you that familiar smile over his shoulder, "I'll let you pick a movie to watch until it's time for dinner."

You returned his smile, letting yourself be pulled into the comfort of the moment. Although it lasted just a short moment, because your teeth trapped your lower lip before you could even control yourself.

"Babe" you called him, getting his attention. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean..." you readjusted yourself in the kitchen, resting against the wall, shifting your position so you'd be able to look at him "There's no secrets between us".

Jungkook hesitated, knowing what your gaze meant. Yet, at the same time, he knew that look wasn't because you were suspicious of his fake personality. It was something else he couldn't decipher, but it made his heart shrink with a guilt he wasn't the owner of.

"I do have something to tell you" he finally said.

As much as you'd have loved to be relieved by that sentence, it made your pulse quicken. Because last time it started the exact same way.

"The helmet" he said, trying to control himself by redirecting his thoughts on the conversation "is mine. I didn't want to tell you, because it was going to be a surprise, but I'm a mess and ruined it. I've been studying to get the license" he finally admitted. "I bought a motorbike recently..."

"You did what?" you frowned. "That's..." definitely better than everything you had imagined. "Oh god, that's great" you smiled widely. "The amount of things we'll be able to do, and all the places we'll go".

Jungkook's heart fluttered at the way your expression changed, opening the door to an excited rambling with several ideas you were clearly already thinking of.

"You liked the surprise, baby?"

"Yes, yes" you nodded repeatedly. "You kept it to yourself so well, I wouldn't have seen it coming at all".

"Yeah... I thought it'd be better for all the plans I want to do with you, hmm? We could go on a small trip during your holidays, I could pick you up from work..."

"I... You didn't even hint at it. You're usually so bad at keeping secrets" you sighed, relieved at what he was keeping from you.

"It was a surprise worth of keeping from you"

"I'm happy though" you smiled at him, started to take out all the groceries you bought. "I'm happy you finally got a license. I would have rathered it to be a car, you know, it's safer. But it's great" to prolong the comfort and happiness, you turned to him with a smile, finding him supporting himself on the doorframe "It's really great" you nodded again. "You know what?"

"What, baby?"

"I bought you your favorite dessert"

He tried to hide the surprise and confusion, knowing damn well you're referring to Junghoon's. Trying to keep himself from messing it up, he opted for a neutral answer: "You're spoiling me, baby".

As he watched you pacing around the kitchen, putting all the things perfectly in the drawers, he couldn't help but notice how you seemed comfortable in his presence, unaware that he wasn't your boyfriend, a little too happy with the domestic aura it all gave. For one second, he could only feel guilty of not doing what he did earlier.

"You're not going to ask why I showed up unannounced?" he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at him. But at the same time, the feeling of having you in his arms was exhilarating.

"Why?" you asked softly, leaning into his body.

"I missed you" he murmured in your ear, his voice low and filled with desire. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

His eyes shut close when your fingers moved up to his hair, enjoying the feeling. Your touch sent shivers down his spine, making him crave more. Instinctively his body against yours, his lips finding their way to your neck, planting soft kisses along your skin.

"I love you" he subconsciously said, with his lips attached to your scent while his hands roamed through your curves.

"Baby" you puckered your lips, touched by his words "I love you, too".

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and trying to commit it to memory, while his fingers ran through it, gently massaging your scalp as you stood there in your kitchen.

He slid his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your bare skin, making you hum at how warm he surprisingly felt. "You're so warm" you mumbled, snuggling closer.

"You feel so nice and soft in my arms" one of his hands made its way down to your thigh. "Hmm, the best" he gave your thigh a light squeeze and then slowly ran his fingers up and down the outside, moving his digits until they brushed against the hem of the fabric of your t-shirt.

"I'm glad you came" you confessed with a soft whisper.

Jungkook smiled against your shoulder, his face hiding in the crook of your neck "Why wouldn't I be here doing what I love the most?"

"Well... You always say your job is so important".

Junghoon loved you, you knew he did, but he also found a million other things more important than you, and he didn't hesitate to remind you. Now, having him behind you, his chest stuck to your back as he hugged you tight when he was supposed to be at work, you felt a warmth in your heart you hadn't felt in a long while.

"Of course it is, but you're even more important to me" he chuckled at your action, loving the way you tried to fit against his body.

You were tired of the amount of times you'd heard that same sentence on him, only to be paid dust all the time. But, somehow, those words felt so genuine that night...

"From now on, I promise I'll focus on you only. I promise" he whispered, with his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"I'm glad our arguments finally got some sense for you" you joked, although you weren't really joking.

For one second, Jungkook wondered how his brother could even think of believing anything was more important than being with you in his arms. How could Junghoon ever think of not putting you in first place?

"You don't know how much I hated those arguments, baby" he looked into your eyes when you turned your face, his gaze and tone both growing somber at the mention.

"Me, too. I hate being mad at you" you kissed his lips.

"Being mad at you was like torture. Those fights felt like hell" slowly, he made you turn on your feet, the feeling of you in his arms already making him feel better.

"What comes after those fights is worth it though" you smirked, hiding your face on his neck.

Jungkook chuckled, endeared by the way you hid how your cheeks turned a lighter shade of pink "Yeah, my clingy baby gets even clingier after our fights" he grinned and his hand rubbed up and down your thigh.

There was something about his touch, his words... or the way he was holding you like he actually wanted you that kept you pushing for more. You started kissing his cheek, but quickly moved down his jaw and throat, feeling him gulp thick under your lips.

"Mmm, baby, that feels nice" he tilted his head to the side to give you even better access to his neck.

You moved back up, your lips rubbing against his. "You like that?"

He brought his hands up to the sides of your face and pulled you closer, his lips hovering over yours, wondering if that was always how you made things up.

"Hmm" he nodded " And I think you're so cute"

He gave your nose a small kiss before kissing your lips softly, gently pulling on your lower lip with his. With every second, he deepened the kiss, gently pushing his tongue into your mouth, pulling and playing with yours. Your fingers sank deeper in his hair, flicking your tongue on his while your hands started moving down his torso. A low hum and a moan escaped his lips as he felt your fingers move, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before eventually gripping your hips. A gasp broke the kiss when you felt his hands on your hips, pressing you a bit harder against his crotch, and as you started to rock your hips against him, you felt that need for him starting to build up.

His teeth crushed on your neck, sucking at the skin to give you a mark as his hips continued to move against yours. His hands traveled down the back of your thighs, digging into your flesh as he started rolling your hips against him, slowly getting addicted to the way you felt against him. He didn't think twice, lifting your body so you were sitting on the counter.

He was left confused when you sat straight in front of him, although your smirk calmed him down almost immediately. His pulse raced up when you started taking your shirt off, his eyes falling down to your chest. His hands moved through your smooth soft skin, traveling up your sides, while his eyes shined as if that was the first time he saw you that way.

You didn't give him time to think, because you bent over to kiss him before he could. His hands were placed on either side of your neck, pulling you back down to his lips, the kiss immediately growing more and more hungry, his tongue immediately seeking access to your mouth again.

"Babe" you whispered against his lips, "what do you want?"

"You, I only want you"

"I'm all yours"

A smirk played on his lips as he heard the words fall so freely from your lips, your eagerness only fueling his hunger for you. The fact that he thought he'd never hear those words from you, and even less dedicated to him, made his head spin. His hands slide up your sides and then down again, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of your pants as he looked into your eyes

"Is that so? You're all mine and mine only?"

"Only yours" you whispered.

You didn't care about how many times you needed to confirm that, because that was the truth.

"Good girl" he groaned, those two words, so simple yet impactful, made your blood run faster through your veins.

He tugged on your pants, signaling for you to lift your hips up a bit so he could take them off, and you helped, supporting your hands on his shoulders to give him enough space to get you naked.

As his eyes traced a silent path through your body, you couldn't help but tilt your head. "Liking what you see?" your hands moved up through his shirt.

His answer, forward yet nervous, came up as if it was the most obvious answer "Shit, I love it"

You didn't need to speak for your boyfriend to help you take off his t-shirt, it was enough with the way you kept moving the black fabric up for him to follow your silent command and do as you wanted, his abs slightly flexing as you exposed him.

"When did you get so bulked up?" you curiously asked when you spotted the difference.

It was then when you realized the big toll routine had on you and your relationship, how you barely noticed the change in his body despite seeing each other almost every day.

"I've been working out a lot lately" he said, smiling nervously, watching your fingers run over his arms.

You could almost hear the pride in his tone as you touched his muscles.

Again, a pang of sadness showed up again across your brain as you realized how long it had been since you were that intimate with your boyfriend. You didn't even notice how toned he was becoming, you didn't even notice the progress as it was happening.

"I see" you chuckled, wrapping your fingers around his neck when you saw him placing himself between your legs.

He hummed and smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, his hands immediately going to your hips, gripping them and pulling you closer to him, his face in line with your neck. He nuzzled your throat, showering the skin there with light kisses.

His lips moved up to your jawline, placing small, slow kisses up your jaw, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you even closer, until your hips are rubbing against his again. The mere touching having you whispering in between kisses how bad you craved him, while his hands tightened their grip on your thighs at your words, your desire for him only fueling the lust and hunger for you inside him.

He attached his lips to your neck once more, gently sucking and biting the skin there while his hips rolled up as you grinded against him. The only thing that could ever stop him from devouring you was yourself, and that was exactly what happened.

He let out a soft hum as you touched his back, his hips rolling up against you again at the soft feeling of your fingers. When your digits hit his belt, a smirk played on his lips. "Do you want it off, baby?"

You nodded and you could feel his grip on your thighs loosening to give you space to move in front of him, able to drag your body down his from the counter. He watched you in awe, the movement already sending a wave of excitement through him. When looking down at you, his eyes took in every inch of your bare skin while he undid his belt buckle.

A thick groan left his lips when you played him while undressing him, your fingers barely touching his skin when taking off his dark jeans, earning him calling you a tease with a groan. Your boyfriend didn't hold back, holding your thighs to put you back against his body, the sudden move surprising you, but not letting you back off from teasing him "Yes, I'm a tease, and? You love it".

"Hmm yeah, I do. But I also love you being a good girl"

A smirk immediately plays on his lips as you weren't able to control your legs from pressing together. His hands moved down your body, caressing your bare skin. "Oh? Does someone like being called a good girl?"

It was something... new. It wasn't the type of chat you had while having sex.

He lifted your body once more, making you wrap your legs around him so you'd be steadily placed.

"Grind against me" he said in a deep tone, his hands gripping the small of your back more firmly, wanting to feel you closer.

You positioned yourself correctly enough to do what you were told, your hips almost meeting his, you could feel his hardened bulge, yet you didn't move an inch. "You want this?" you moved your hips down, rolling them for one second before moving them back up.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his patience even at the feeling of you rolling your hips for a second, his own self-control slowly slipping out of his grasp. He gripped your hips harder, wanting to feel you against him even more "Yeah, I want this. I want you. So move against me and be a good girl for me, baby"

Clearly, you weren't going to make it so easy for him.

You bit your lip, bending over until your lips were almost touching his ear "Use the right words".

He shivered involuntarily at your whispered sentence, your breath in his ear sending another wave of excitement through him, the need to be with you growing stronger "Please, baby. Let me feel you, just move against me. You know I'm a patient man, but this is making me lose my damn mind"

"So this" you grind your hips down, moving them back up again "is making you lose your head?"

He let out a low, almost guttural groan at the slow, calculated move of your hips, the friction created by your movements driving him insane "Yeah, you're making me lose my damn mind, baby. You know what you do to me".

You licked his upper lip, your hand holding his chin before you rolled your hips back down against his.

He moaned in consequence, feeling the way you rolled your hips again, his own hips involuntarily bucking up against yours. "Baby... that's it, just keep going like that. Just a little bit more" he held back the urge to take control of your body and just take you right there, trying to keep a bit of my composure.

Although that composure didn't last long, just enough for him to take you to your bedroom.

You didn't know how or when you ended up underneath him, his body trapping yours against the mattress while his lips ghosted over yours "We're done playing now" he assured you. The air was caught in your throat when he brushed his lips against your throat. "I fucking love the way you're all mine" he groaned. "Mine only, hmm? I'll destroy whoever tries to get between us".

You gulped thick when you heard him saying that, unsure if it was just the pleasure ruling him... because he was looking deadly serious.

"What?" he called you "You like knowing that you're all mine and mine alone? You like hearing how I'll do anything to keep you all to myself?"

In three years of relationship, it was the first time you heard Junghoon being so possessive of you. Yet you didn't hate it. Not at all.

He crawled on top of you, his body trapping you beneath him. His fingers skillfully undid the clasp of your bra with a swift motion as soon as his fingertips found it. Your back arched with need as you felt the fabric caressing your skin before disappearing, and it kept folding as his lips started making their way down your body. He paused for a moment to look up at you, his eyes darkened for all the right and wrong reasons as he admired the invisible path he made from your chest to the edge of your underwear.

He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes searching for a hint of suspicion or doubt, for any sign that could make him back down. But he found none, only desire and trust. His fingers hooked into your underwear and pulled them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he got you naked in front of him.

Jungkook moved back up your body, his hands trailing up your thighs as he went. He positioned himself between your legs, his lips finding your collarbone again, leaving a mark that would be difficult to hide, while his heart pounded hysterically against his chest. His desire for you and the guilt of his identity waging a silent war inside him.

But he chose to silent them.

He lifted your leg over his hip, pulling you even closer to him. His body pressed against yours, and the last remaining layers of fabric between you felt like an unbearable barrier. He nipped at your earlobe, his voice a low, demanding whisper "I fucking need you so bad".

"I need you, too"

The way your words echoed his, the way you sounded so out of breath... It all kept clouding his judgement. He knew those words were dedicated to someone else, he knew your body was craving Junghoon, but the thought of his touch exciting you like that only made him growl deep in his throat.

His lips reached the apex of your thighs as he started moving down, pausing for a moment as he looked up at you. Your face was flushed with desire, your eyes darkened with need. He took a moment to memorize the sight before he gave in completely to his desires. Giving you one last look, he bent enough to sink his mouth sensually among your folds, the contact making you hum in pleasure almost instantly.

He ran his tongue over you, savoring the taste of you in his mouth. Your body writhed beneath his touch, your moans and gasps filling the room.. the combination of it all causing his chest to puff with pride, while his tongue dived deeper in you to get a better taste. Jungkook lost himself in you, driven by the overwhelming need to make you his, to make everything he had always dreamed of a reality.

Your moans, the sight of you, your reaction to his touch... it all drove him crazy with a primal need to possess you, to make you his in every way he had thought of ever since Junghoon introduced you to the family. He delved deeper, his tongue exploring you with a fervor that bordered on desperate. Jungkook craved more of those sounds, those sensations, those reactions.

You almost couldn't recognize yourself. The passion, the way your boyfriend was giving himself to you, the way he was sinking his mouth in you as if he wanted to eat you whole and then eat you again. You swore he made you let out sounds you haven't heard on yourself ever before.

"Baby, I need you" you moaned, almost with a plea.

Your words, the need in your voice, the way your body responded to him -it was like fuel to the fire. He wanted -no, he needed- to give you what you were asking for.

Licking your clit one last time, he moved up your body, making sure he showered with kisses every centimeter on the way to your face. Jungkook positioned himself between your legs again, his eyes holding your gaze. His fingers brushed against you, teasing, but never quite giving you what you want. His voice was a low, almost desperate plea:

"Are you ready for me, baby?"

You dedicated him a soft smile, before you nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders "Always".

Your answer, the look on your face -it teared away the last shred of restraint he had. With one movement of his head, he motioned you to get a condom, which you reached effortlessly at the bedside table to hand it to him so he'd wrap himself on the latex.

His lips claimed your mouth in a deep kiss, while his length slid into you with one movement, filling you completely. It was strange, but he felt like coming home, finally being where he belonged.

For a second, the guilt installed in his brain, reminding him of what he was doing, of the place he was taking over, but how quickly you pulled from his neck and how you linked your lips together worked to get him back to the only thing that mattered: you.

You broke the kiss, moaning when he started moving, a low giggle adorning the room and making Jungkook the weakest he had ever felt. "Fuck, you feel bigger".

He couldn't help but smirk at your words, the need to hear more, to make you feel even more driving him forward. He lifted your leg over his waist again, his lips finding your ear as he murmured: "Is that a good thing, baby? Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good" you closed your eyes, dropping your head back.

He didn't know how long he stayed moving while just looking at you, drinking up all of your reactions, memorizing every small detail on your face with every new wave of pleasure, or the way your nails digged on his skin whenever he angled his hips to reach the right spot. You were so hypnotizing and addictive.

He was done being a viewer, he was the main character of the most devoted love story to ever exist.

Hearing you moan like that, hearing how good he made you feel, pushed him even closer to the edge. Jungkook bit down on your shoulder, just enough to leave a mark, as he tried to hang on just a bit longer. He picked up the pace, driving into you deeper, harder, his eyes fixed on your face, ready for the smallest sign to give you everything you could ask for.

When you opened your eyes, you didn't recognize the dark look in your boyfriend's eyes as he crashed into you, his pace was relentless, like he had been deprived from touching you for years.

Your hands moved instantly to his wrists, trying to find some stability as your body kept bouncing harder against the mattress. Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours, holding onto you as if he never wanted to let go. He could feel your body responding to his, and could see how close you were.

"Give it to me, baby. Give me everything you have" he asked softly, your hands moving to each side of your head as his body bent over to cover yours.

He held your gaze, he took care of your body, and he walked with you to your high to make sure you wouldn't miss a single beat. Until you both turned into one, your bodies being a mix of shivers and electricity.

Jungkook held you tight, only letting go of your hands to wrap his arms around you and sink his face on the curve of your neck to inhale your scent. You were so his that it physically hurted.

"That was..." you thought for a few seconds, trying to come up with a word "new".

Jungkook curiously moved back to look into your eyes "New? In a good sense?"

"Yeah... Yeah" you nodded, huffing a laugh "Different, in a good sense though. It's just that..." you started to explain, feeling a bit nervous "you're usually so soft and slow, and careful and delicate".

"Am I?" Jungkook lifted his eyebrow, trying to wonder if he allowed his own needs to take control of himself and risk getting exposed. "I just got carried away. I'm sorry if I hurted you".

"Hoon, I've been asking you to be a bit rougher for months" you chuckled "Why are you apologizing? I liked it" while speaking, you tilted your head, looking at him "Maybe we should get even freakier next time".

For a second, Jungkook's lip twitched at hearing his brother's name on your lips, but he recomposed quickly after, letting a smirk be drawn on his face.

"You felt like a completely different person" you chuckled "I liked it".

Jungkook pecked your lips quickly, trying to get rid of the idea that he was indeed a different person.

"Shall we get something for dinner?" he casually asked, hugging you tight in his arms. He stretched his legs lazily,moving his face down to look at you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "How about we order something for dinner? I'm starving."

You blinked, surprised. "Order something? You usually insist on cooking after..." you trailed off, cheeks warming.

He tilted his head, the playful grin never faltering. "Figured I'd give us both a break. Besides, my cooking could use a little variety."

Junghoon always prided himself on his cooking, especially after moments like these. It was his way of grounding himself, of caring for you. Still, you shrugged off the unease. He probably was just trying to be thoughtful in a different way.

"What are you in the mood for?" you asked, shifting to grab your phone.

"Anything but Chinese food," he replied quickly. Too quickly.

Your fingers paused mid-air. "But...you love Chinese food."

Jungkook stopped, trying to think of what to say to get away from his own mess.

He hesitated, barely perceptibly, before chuckling. "Right. I meant, I've had enough of it lately. Craving something else."

You nodded slowly, letting it slide, but a faint buzz of doubt lingered in the back of your mind. As you scrolled through the menu options, he got up, moving to his pants on the floor.

His movements were fluid, confident, but lacked the familiarity you'd always known. The way he grabbed the fabric and tossed it on: it wasn't the usual meticulous way Junghoon folded and set aside his clothes.

"Pizza?" he suggested, his voice easy, casual. "Something simple."

Your lips curved into a small smile despite the growing doubts. "Sure, pizza sounds good."

As you placed the order, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He was looking at you, but there was something in his eyes -a hunger, an intensity- that didn't belong to Junghoon. You shook your head, telling yourself it was all in your imagination.

After slipping into your clothes, the two of you left the room, the warm glow of the moment still lingering in the air. Junghoon walked beside you, his arm brushing yours occasionally as you both made your way to the living room.

"What time should the food get here?" he asked, glancing at you.

"About thirty minutes," you replied, checking the confirmation on your phone. "Plenty of time to relax."

Jungkook moved first, wrapping his arm around your waist to drag you with him over the couch, making sure both of you falled over it, your body almost over his lap, as he cuddled you tight. Something so simple as that had you instantly feeling better, instantly forgetting about any doubts or insecurities, vanishing that sense of unease and anxiety, to welcome comfort and love.

You didn't realize, but you started rubbing your cheek against his chest, while your hands held tight on his arms, your eyes closed while you allowed his scent fill your nostrils.

You were tired of being suspicious, and always ending on the worst of the conclusions, because small changes didn't always have to be for the worst.

If that was the first night of a new phase of your relationship, you'd gladly take it.

And something in him moved at your reaction. He was convinced he'd make you a million times happier than his brother ever did. It was as if the universe was telling him you were always meant to end up with him, because you molded together perfectly.

He, and only him, was everything you ever wanted, and he'd make sure he'd be the only thing you'd ever want.

#armpirate #fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #reader insert #one shot #jungkooksmut #jksmut #jk smut #boyfriendsfriend!au

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gpcwsl · 3 days ago

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Lia wälti x reader where reader makes a mistake in a massive game like a semi final / final but it’s very unlike her as she is always so good on the ball and the definition of calm but sometimes we all can’t help being human. Because she is a defender her one mistake leads to the opponent scoring the winner and as it’s already extra time arsenal have no time to respond meaning they lose. Once the whistle goes reader is beyond distraught (head in shirt , crying , lying on the pitch you name it ) lias heart breaks to see her gf like this she tries to shield her from the cameras and get her off the pitch asap. Reader ends up crying herself to sleep that night only to wake up to a hoard of abuse from online trolls and so called fans. Lia helps her through it but also speaks out with a statement of her own being like “r has been so important for us let’s not forget that”

Warnings: hate online, arsenal losing an champions league final, short?

Lia Wälti x Reader:

- Always Human -

MasterList

The crowd was deafening, a sea of red and white in the stands cheering Arsenal on as they played the Champions League final. The energy was electric, the stakes higher than ever. You stood on the pitch, heart pounding in your chest but mind calm as always. Calm and composed, that’s what you were known for—your ability to keep it together under pressure, to make the right decisions in moments when others would falter.

You had been here before, in high-stakes matches, and you thrived in them. But this one felt different. It wasn’t just the pressure of the game; it was the fact that Lia, your girlfriend and captain of the team, was right there with you. Her presence grounded you, reminded you that no matter what, you had someone who believed in you.

The match was tied 1-1, and extra time was ticking away. Legs were heavy, breaths came short, and minds were fatigued. Every decision mattered. You could feel the weight of it as you intercepted a pass, scanning the field for your next move.

But then it happened.

You went to play a simple back pass to the keeper, something you’d done hundreds of times, but the ball rolled awkwardly off your foot. It wasn’t the clean connection you needed, and the opposing striker pounced. Before you could recover, she was through on goal.

A split second later, the net rippled. 2-1.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The sound of the crowd, the cheers from the opposing fans, was muted by the pounding in your ears. You froze, watching as the other team celebrated and your teammates tried to rally each other for one last push.

But there wasn’t time. The final whistle blew not long after, and Arsenal’s dream of lifting the trophy was gone.

You fell to your knees, the enormity of your mistake crashing over you like a tidal wave. You couldn’t believe it. How could you, of all people, make such a mistake? You buried your face in your shirt, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

Lia’s heart shattered at the sight of you. She had been jogging toward you to console you the moment the whistle blew, but seeing you like this—so broken, so unlike the strong, composed woman she loved—made her chest ache.

She crouched down beside you, her hand gentle on your back as she leaned in close. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice soft but urgent, trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You didn’t respond, too lost in your own anguish. Lia glanced around and saw the cameras pointed in your direction, the lenses capturing every second of your pain. Anger flared in her chest. You didn’t deserve this—not the scrutiny, not the blame she knew would come.

“Come on,” she said gently but firmly, looping her arm around your shoulders and helping you to your feet. You stumbled, still shaking, and she held you closer, shielding your face with her body as much as she could.

The walk to the tunnel felt endless. You couldn’t stop crying, your head bowed as the weight of guilt pressed down on you. Lia whispered reassurances the entire way, but you barely heard her.

Back in the locker room, the atmosphere was somber. The team was heartbroken, but no one blamed you. If anything, they tried to console you, but you couldn’t face them. You sat in the corner, Lia by your side, until everyone else filtered out. She didn’t leave you for a second.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep in Lia’s arms, her gentle words and soft touches the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart.

The next morning, you woke to a storm. Not the literal kind, but the online kind. Notifications on your phone buzzed relentlessly, and against your better judgment, you checked them.

The comments were brutal. Fans and trolls alike were blaming you for the loss, calling you everything from “useless” to “a disgrace.” You stared at the screen, your heart sinking further with every word.

Lia walked into the room with two mugs of coffee, her smile fading the moment she saw your expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the mugs down and sitting beside you.

Wordlessly, you handed her your phone. Her jaw clenched as she read the comments, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “This is ridiculous,” she said, tossing the phone onto the bed.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. “But they’re right, Lia. I cost us the game. I—”

“No,” Lia cut you off firmly, taking your face in her hands. “You didn’t. Football is a team sport. We win together, and we lose together. One mistake doesn’t erase everything you’ve done for this team.”

You shook your head, the weight of guilt and shame still crushing you. “But—”

“No,” she said again, her tone softer this time. “You are one of the best players on this team, one of the best defenders in the world. One mistake doesn’t change that. And it definitely doesn’t change how much I love you.”

Her words broke through the fog, if only a little. You leaned into her, letting her hold you as fresh tears fell.

Later that day, Lia took to social media herself, posting a heartfelt statement:

Lia Wälti Instagram Post:

“Football is a game of highs and lows, and last night was one of the toughest moments we’ve faced as a team. But I want to be clear—Y/n has been an integral part of our success this season. Her talent, her dedication, and her calm presence have carried us through so many moments. One mistake doesn’t define her, just like it wouldn’t define any of us. We win together, and we lose together. Let’s not forget everything she’s done for this team. She deserves our support, not our criticism.”

The post quickly went viral, with teammates and fans rallying behind you. Messages of support began to pour in, and while they didn’t erase the hurt, they reminded you that you weren’t alone.

That night, as you lay in bed with Lia’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you finally started to believe her words. One mistake didn’t define you. You were human, and that was okay.

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linddzz · 2 days ago

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Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

#arcane #jayvik #we are going back to 2014 tumblr era of analyzing body language frame by frame i am in my element #i think im the only one who loves that little side eye viktor shoots as Jayce goes for touch number two #he looks like a cat lashing its tail and considering another smack

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haziells · 1 day ago

Text

my way

until it reaches the void state

(this will be a long post)

1. the end, the beginning.

I knew about the law of attraction years ago thanks to social media, so there it was, like every day trying to manifest my desires.

I was fed up, every day was the same.

My heart healing and breaking everyday, the same cycle of hope and hopelessness continues.

was it always going to be like this?

would I always have to let fears take over me?

I couldn't trust, I didn't believe that just by believing I could get what I wanted but at the same time I had no other option.

I couldn't go on like this, I didn't want to go on like this, I just wanted to end my life, I gave up and cried, cried, cried thinking that this would be the end, that I wouldn't be able to be happy and that was it.

I gave up and thought I was resigned to living a shitty life.

But I cried so much that all the sadness that was in me came out, all the fears that were clinging to me came out.

That's when I felt peace, when I realized that no, I wasn't going to give up that easily, that I first have to do it and do it well, not keep trying.

So I persisted for only 2 days, as I already had my desire for that moment and yes, after 2 days my 3D had already reflected it, it was exciting.

did i reallt do that? was it just a coincidence?

No, it was really me.

I was happy for a few days until the fears returned but this time I was afraid of losing my desire, that's when I realized that fears have no meaning.

I already have it, why would I lose it?

2. I discovered Tumblr and the void state.

I didn't know what void state was, but as soon as I read about it, it caught my attention.

By then my self-concept had improved, I was still dealing with my fears but not as much as before.

So, I made a friend who explained to me more about the void state and she told me that she manifested her house through the void state.

I got excited and hopeful, I read some methods on how to get in and tried to do it, but I couldn't.

I couldn't do it, the simple idea of getting everything so easily sounded easy and fantastical to me.

But one day I realized who I really am, that I am everything, that nothing and no one has power outside of me.

I was filled with satisfaction, joy, peace, I felt like laughing knowing who I am and how easy everything is.

How did I first enter the void state?

so I had a subliminal audio playing in the background while I was meditating.

I thought...I am so powerful, I am capable of anything, I can have whatever I want whenever I want.

At that time I was very sleepy because I had taken some exams, so I just thought "my physical body is going to sleep and rest and I'm going to the void state"

After all, the void state is me and there is nothing easier than being me.

And so it happened, I entered the void state and knew that I already had everything just as I wanted, then I came out and continued sleeping while I didn't stop smiling and feeling a sensation of peace and extreme happiness.

I woke up and stood calmly until I realized what had happened...

I was scared shitless when I realized that I had entered the void state for real and that at that moment I should have everything I wanted and that was when 3d reality disappeared before my eyes.

Everything began to collapse and I felt a huge current of energy running through my entire body, as if it were a waterfall flowing inside me.

I was very scared, I won't deny it, but after all I did it.

(I swear that just as you see in the gif, that's how I felt at that moment)

The following days I couldn't stop shaking and feeling scared because I didn't understand how it was possible that 3D could disappear just like that.

Then I read someone here talking about non-dualism. @lotusmi

Then I understood my experience.

Since that day everything is much easier for me.

I have entered the void state 3 times.

that manifests?

.cure my depression.

.cure my anxiety.

.trust myself.

.longer eyelashes.

.my desired person in love with me.

.money.

.be able to manifest easily.

.prettiest voice.

.I am spoiled.

The rest of the things I manifest are more private.

But basically for me this is the best thing that could have happened to me.

I will mention who were the bloggers that I read to understand more about the void state and about who I really am.

@gorgeouslypink

@lotusmi

@beesfairlyland

@msperfect777

I will also mention a blogger whose information I also like and I find it cute.

@sugarplumfairy777

If you want to know more, you can send me a direct message, no problem.

#void state #pure consciousness #law of assumption #law of attraction #void state success story #reality shifting #shiftblr #loa tumblr

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ivoraic · 1 day ago

Text

Closer than Infinity

Summary: No one touches Gojo Satoru without permission. No one bypasses his infinity. And yet here you are, clinging to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Paring: Gojo x Reader who’s cursed technique is cursed energy absorption

Word Count : 9.6k

Cw: choking (as in the trying to kill you kind not the sexy kind), potential jjk spoilers, kidnapping, mahito, kenjaku performing experiments on you. let me know if i missed any pls mostly just tooth rotting fluff with satoru being whipped for you (and some heart wrenching angst as well... but with a happy ending!) Read on ao3

The sun glares down at you, searing and relentless. It was bright. Too bright. A moment ago, you were in your room, lulled by the soft patter of night rain against the window. Now, you’re here, disoriented and overwhelmed, standing in the middle of a bustling Tokyo street.

The sky feels heavier here, the air thick with something you can’t quite place; cursed energy, though you don’t know it yet. People bustle about around you, eyes glued to their screens, their expressions vacant. No one spares you a second glance.

You don’t understand where you are, and the anxiety starts creeping in, your vision blurring as tears threaten to spill.

Then, you hear a voice.

"Hey, hey, you okay there? So, you’re the one displacing all the cursed energy in this area, huh?”

You turn toward it, and he’s just standing there, hands shoved into his pockets lazily. Clad in an all-black attire, his blindfold is tugged just above his sharp grin.

His name, you would come to learn, is Gojo Satoru. The catalyst for your new life.

There’s something about him, something undeniably safe despite the power that hums around him, distorting the air. The oppressive weight pressing down on you seems to lift in his presence, and instinctively, you take a step toward him.

But before you can reach him, a careless passerby bumps into your shoulder, sending you stumbling.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

His smirk falters.

His mind blanks for a second, and his eyes widen just slightly; a flicker of shock. His Infinity didn’t activate. Didn’t even react.

You had bypassed it entirely.

Why… why did my Infinity not activate?

He didn’t drop it. He knows he didn’t. And yet, your hand, small, soft, and trembling, touches him like it’s nothing. Like touching Gojo Satoru is the most natural thing in the world. His brain scrambles for an explanation, but all you do is blink up at him with wide, confused eyes, unaware of what you’ve just done.

It fascinates him. No one gets this close to him without permission. No one just touches him.

But you did.

And you're clinging to him like he's the only safe thing in this entire strange world.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, is rattled by a single touch. He masks it quickly, of course. A sly grin spreads across his face as he leans in, eyes narrowing with interest.

"Oh? You must be special, huh?" he teases, but there’s an edge to his words, a curiosity that borders on obsession.

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, not that you could. Before you know it, he’s taken your hand, his grip light yet unyielding.

Because now he needs to know.

Why you can touch him. Why his Infinity doesn’t react. Why he can’t see through you with his Six Eyes.

You’re like a puzzle he can’t solve, and Gojo is obsessed with solving things. He takes you back to Jujutsu High, deciding to figure out exactly what you are.

---

At the school, he watches you quietly, letting you stick close to him. His explanations about Jujutsu society, cursed spirits, and techniques are frustratingly vague, always seeming to leave out some crucial detail. You scramble to piece things together, devouring books from the school’s archives and pestering him with endless questions, to which he mostly responds with amused grins and teasing remarks.

“You’ll figure it out,” he’d casually reply, lounging back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “You’re a quick learner.”

Despite his carefree demeanor, you soon realize that he’s much sharper and more perceptive than he lets on, and he takes a certain delight in testing your limits. Through a series of spontaneous, almost playful experiments, you both begin to uncover the nature of your cursed technique: cursed energy absorption.

“Let’s see what happens,” he announces one afternoon, tossing a small flicker of cursed energy your way. It’s harmless, just a wisp, really, but the moment it touches you, it vanishes, swallowed into the void of your body. You barely feel it, just the faintest tingle, like static electricity dissipating against your skin.

Gojo’s eyes narrow slightly, his interest piqued. “Huh. That’s neat.”

He doesn’t stop there. For extra measure, he releases a low-grade fly head into the room; a harmless cursed spirit. The creature buzzes around erratically, its movements jittery and unpredictable. But the second it brushes against you, it crumples up and disappears completely, as if sucked into a black hole.

He lets out a low whistle. “Scary,” he murmurs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

But you’re not invincible. Physical attacks, you quickly discover, can still hurt you. The realization makes Gojo frown thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he processes the implications.

“So cursed techniques don’t work on you, huh? But a punch in the face would?” He leans in slightly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “That’s… not good.”

You huff at his bluntness, crossing your arms. “Thanks, mister obvious.”

He chuckles at that, but his expression grows serious as he continues. “All this cursed energy you absorb, it has to go somewhere, right? Energy can’t just vanish into thin air. It’s gotta build up or… redistribute somehow.”

His words linger in your mind for days, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Where does all that energy go? You find out soon enough.

It happens by accident, during another one of Gojo’s experiments. He’s been pushing you harder lately, testing your capacity to absorb larger amounts of cursed energy. You’re already tired, your body humming with the energy you’ve collected over the past hour, when he suddenly says, “Alright. Let’s try something new.”

Before you can protest, his hand lands gently on your shoulder. The moment his palm touches you, the world shifts.

It’s like a thread pulls taut between you and him, an invisible line that snaps into place and yanks you forward. The energy within you stirs violently, surging toward him as though drawn by an irresistible force. And then, without warning, you’re pulled in.

Your physical body seems to dissolve, your consciousness folding into his. It’s not painful, more like slipping into warm water, the boundaries between you blurring as you’re absorbed into him completely. You’re disoriented at first, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of sensations. His cursed energy roars around you, infinite and untamed, but instead of drowning in it, you find yourself amplifying it. Strengthening it.

And then you feel his thoughts.

They’re loud and clear, vivid and raw. His confidence. His focus. His endless, swirling intellect. But underneath it all, there’s something else. A quiet loneliness, buried so deeply that even he might not realize it’s there.

You know he feels you too. His awareness brushes against yours, tentative at first, then curious. He’s seeing all of you. Your awe, your nervousness, the way your heart stutters when you think about him.

A voice echoes in your mind. His voice, but softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Is this… you?”

And then it’s over.

Your body emerges from his in a rush, like being expelled through a barrier. You’re weightless for a moment, reeling from the sudden separation, before his arms catch you instinctively. One hand steadies your waist, the other bracing your back, holding you close as though afraid you might collapse.

You’re trembling, your head spinning, but his grip is firm, grounding. His expression is unreadable, his gaze flickering between concern and amazement.

“That,” he finally says, his voice low and breathless, “was… unexpected.”

You nod weakly, still trying to process what just happened. “What… what was that?”

Gojo tilts his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the obvious seriousness of the moment. “Looks like your cursed technique has a little bonus feature,” he says. But there’s an unmistakable gleam in his eyes, something almost giddy, like he’s already thinking of all the ways this changes things.

“Merge,” he murmurs thoughtfully, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You can merge with me. Boost my energy, maybe even my technique… and I can feel everything you feel.”

You blink, the weight of his words sinking in. “I… merged with you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone light. “I could feel you in there. Your thoughts, your emotions. It was… intimate.”

The word makes you flush, but Gojo doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he’s just enjoying your reaction. He allows you to remove his hands from your body and step back, regaining your composure.

“This changes everything,” he continues, his mind already racing with possibilities. “With an ability like that, you could turn the tide of any battle. But…” He trails off, his expression darkening.

“But what?”

He meets your gaze, his tone unusually solemn. “It also makes you a target. If people find out what you can do, they’ll come after you. And not just curses—the higher-ups, other sorcerers, maybe even people we don’t know about yet. You’ve got something they’ll want to control.”

The gravity of his words makes your stomach twist. You realize, perhaps for the first time, just how dangerous your ability could be. Not just for your enemies, but for yourself.

Gojo must see the worry on your face, because his grin returns, softer this time. “Don’t worry,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m the strongest, remember?”

---

Word of your ability spreads fast. It’s not long before the higher-ups find out. They hear whispers of an anomaly. Someone who can bypass Gojo’s infinity, someone with a cursed technique powerful enough to absorb energy itself.

You first hear about their unease from Gojo himself. He brings it up casually one day, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

“The higher-ups are wary of you, you know.”

You glance up from the book in your hands, frowning. “Wary? Of me? But I haven’t done anything, have I?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, as if the answer is obvious. “You have. You can do what no one else can.” He leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, a small smile playing on his lips. “You can touch me.”

To the higher-ups, you’re a threat. An unpredictable variable that could shatter the delicate balance of power.

If she can bypass Gojo, she can kill him.

And if she can kill Gojo, she can destroy everything.

The order is swift: Immediate execution.

Gojo only laughs when he hears it. Laughs in that cold, dangerous way that makes the air around him tighten.

“Oh? You want to what now?”

They try to argue.

“It’s a precaution. You can’t possibly guarantee she won’t turn on us.” “It’s too dangerous to let her live.”

Gojo’s smile sharpens. “No. You’re not laying a hand on her.”

And that’s the end of that conversation.

Even though the higher-ups were afraid of you, the one they were most afraid of was Gojo. They knew better than to risk provoking him. Instead, they compromise. If they can’t execute you, then they’ll find another way to control you.

That’s how you end up being appointed as Gojo’s personal assistant. Or, as you later realize, his handler. It’s a political move, thinly veiled under the guise of practicality. They claim it’s to “help you grow as a sorcerer” and to “ensure your potential is properly utilized,” but the truth is far simpler: they want you close to him, where they can keep an eye on you both.

Gojo seems happy enough with the arrangement, informing you of it with a wide grin.

You frown. “How is this a good thing?”

“Because,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully, “it means I get to keep you close. And you’re safer next to me than anywhere else.”

---

At first, Gojo is determined to keep you emotionally far away from his heart. He knows better than to get attached to someone like you, someone vulnerable and still finding their footing in the world of curses and sorcery. He’s lost too many people he cared about already. He can’t bear to go through that kind of pain again.

But you’re like gravity to him. The more time he spends with you, the harder it becomes to stay away. Not to mention the way your cursed technique pairs so naturally with his, like a missing puzzle piece. He tries to keep his feelings at bay, but he keeps getting pulled closer.

And slowly, before he even realizes it, he’s falling.

The first time you merge with him during a mission is a nightmare for you. As he’s cutting through curses with ease, beneath the adrenaline, he feels your awe and your admiration for how effortlessly powerful he is.

Your thoughts begin drifting to the image of him while fighting, the way he can effortlessly fight hand to hand, the way you can sometimes catch a glimpse of his well-built stature and abs when his jacket lifts up slightly mid battle…

God, he looks so attractive when he’s fighting.

He smirks mid-battle. Shoot.

“Oh? Is that what you’re thinking right now?”

You flush with embarrassment, mentally scrambling to cover it up, but it’s too late. He finds it adorable. He doesn’t stop teasing you about it for a week afterwards.

You find that you can merge with other sorcerers too. It isn’t just Gojo’s cursed energy that’s compatible with yours, as much as he likes to loudly claim that his is the best match. Nanami, for instance, has a steady, almost soothing flow of cursed energy. Organized, predictable, and oddly comforting in its calmness.

But there was admittedly something about Gojo’s cursed energy that stood apart. Merging with him felt... natural. Like his energy wasn’t just accepting of yours, but welcoming, pulling you in with an ease that was almost magnetic. You last longer in the merged state with him, your abilities amplified in a way that feels effortless. It’s a fact he takes great pride in, often teasing you about it with a smirk.

“Guess my energy is just built different,” he says, smirking. “No one else can keep up with you like I can, huh?”

It’s infuriatingly true, and he knows it. But his smugness doesn’t stop you from practicing with others. After all, you can’t rely on him for everything.

One day you decide to practice with Nanami in one of the training rooms. His cursed energy is steady as always, and you focus on syncing your flow with his, attempting to enter his body the same way you do with Gojo. The process is slower, less intuitive than when it’s with Gojo, but you’re making good progress.

You’re in the middle of a successful merge when you feel a strange presence, faint but undeniably familiar. Turning your head slightly, you spot a flash of white hair peeking around the corner of the doorway.

At first, you think you must be imagining it. But then the head tilts, and you catch the unmistakable glint of Gojo’s dark sunglasses reflecting the light.

Was he seriously spying on you?

It takes all your self-control not to burst out laughing. You can’t tell if Nanami is unaware, or just ignoring the figure at the door, though you assume the latter. He just continues with his usual calm focus, adjusting his stance and refocusing his cursed energy.

You glance back at the doorway, only to find Gojo glaring. Not at you, but at Nanami. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression is a mix of a pout and a death glare, like a sulking child who’d been told to share their favorite toy.

He catches your gaze and immediately straightens up, feigning innocence. With exaggerated casualness, he leans against the wall, whistling as if he hadn’t just been caught.

“Don’t mind me,” he calls out, his voice entirely too loud and cheerful. “Just passing by. Carry on!”

Nanami sighs, clearly unimpressed. “Gojo, if you’re going to spy, at least be subtle about it.”

“I wasn’t spying,” Gojo retorts, strolling into the room with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was monitoring. Big difference.”

“Sure,” you say, smirking. “You’re monitoring my progress with Nanami. That’s why you were hiding behind the corner and glaring at him, right?”

Gojo’s eyes widen in mock offense, one hand flying to his chest. “Glaring? Me? I don’t glare. I radiate charm and positivity.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about Gojo’s inability to take anything seriously.

Gojo ignores him, turning his full attention to you. “Anyway, you’ve been practicing enough with him. Time to come back to the one and only,” he declares, pointing at himself with a dramatic flourish.

“Jealous much?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? Jealous? Pfft, never.” But the faint flush creeping up his neck betrays him.

Nanami, ever the professional, simply rolls his eyes. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, stepping back. “Good luck.”

You both know the last part is directed towards you.

As soon as Nanami leaves, Gojo sidles up to you, his grin a mix of smugness and relief. “So, how’d it go?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

“Fine,” you reply, being deliberately vague.

“Just fine?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “…Your cursed energy still feels the best.”

The triumphant grin that spreads across his face is both endearing and irritating. “Knew it,” he says, ruffling your hair.

---

Your new life is strange. But you grow used to it. You grow close to the staff members and students at the school and become more familiar with your cursed technique.

Over time, merging with Gojo becomes second nature. But what surprises you the most isn’t how well your cursed energies sync. It’s the emotions you begin to feel through the connection.

At first, it was fleeting impressions. An ache that wasn’t yours, a flicker of sadness that disappeared almost as soon as it surfaced. It was like catching shadows in the corner of your eye. Easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

But you were paying attention.

Through these merges, you truly begin to understand him. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer alive, but also someone who carries an almost invisible weight on his shoulders. You can sense his loneliness. It’s heavy, quiet, and constant, masked by his confidence and easy laughter. You begin to see the cracks in his carefree facade, the moments of vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

Beneath the teasing remarks and self-assured smiles was a man who bore the pain of loss and the burden of protecting a world that barely understood him.

You can’t shake the feeling. It lingers long after the merges end. You find yourself wanting to do something, anything, to ease that aching loneliness.

You start paying attention to him in ways no one else had.

When he cracks one of his terrible jokes, you laugh. Though not out of pity, but because more often than not, he’s actually hilarious in his own absurd way. When he tugs you away during missions to slack off, you go along without complaint. You let him have his fun, matching his playful energy with a smile of your own. You find his cheerful grin and happiness worth every second of it.

The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself saying “yes.” Yes to his impromptu plans, late-night snack runs, and the ridiculous detours he insists on taking just because something caught his eye. Every spontaneous moment and silly adventure feels like a glimpse into a part of him the world rarely gets to see. A part he doesn’t let anyone else in on.

And slowly, things began to shift.

He doesn’t have to beg Nanami or Shoko to join him anymore because he has you. You’re the one he starts to seek out. Because you’re one of the few people who can offer him genuine comfort.

You see how his eyes light up when you listen to him ramble on about various topics, how his posture relaxes when you’re around. Slowly but surely, the walls he had built around himself start to crumble for you.

---

The streets of Tokyo are alive tonight. Lanterns light the pathways, casting a warm glow over the festival-goers. The scent of grilled skewers and sweet treats lingers in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of fireworks. You walk beside Gojo, his towering frame impossible to miss even in this crowd. His blindfold is in place as always, covering his eyes from your view. But you can tell he’s enjoying himself from the faint but genuine smile tugging the corners of his lips.

You had toured the festival together, eating your fill of tasty street food, and laughing as Gojo tried (and failed) to win you a stuffed animal from a claw machine. As the night winds down, the streets grow quieter, the hum of the festival fading into the distance. Gojo suggests taking a walk, and soon, the two of you find yourselves on a secluded hill overlooking the city. The soft glow of Tokyo stretches out below.

Gojo tugs his blindfold down, letting it rest loosely around his neck. His snowy white hair ruffles in the wind as he closes his eyes for a moment, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face.

He’s still holding his dango stick, though it’s down to one last piece. With a smirk, he holds it out to you.

“Wanna try?” he asks, his voice light and teasing.

You lean down, taking a bite. The sweetness of the sauce melts on your tongue.

“It’s good!” you exclaim, glancing up at him with a smile. But you pause when you see the way he’s looking at you.

His gaze isn’t teasing or playful like usual. It’s different. Softer, unguarded. His vivid blue eyes are fixed on you, admiring you like you’d hung the very stars that shine down upon you both.

The vibrant hues of the fireworks reflect off your face, your hair gently blowing back in the night breeze. And in that moment, with the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, the way your smile lit up the world around you, he realized something he couldn’t deny any longer.

He was hopelessly, utterly, entirely in love with you.

You tilt your head, a little confused. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

That snaps him out of it, and he lets out a soft laugh. “No,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent. “…You’re perfect.”

As the city lights sparkle below and the wind carries the distant echoes of the fireworks overhead, standing next to you, he wonders if this was the happiness he had been craving.

He doesn’t even realize his Infinity begins instinctively sneaking around you, hovering just above your skin, careful not to be absorbed by your technique. In time, it becomes second nature to him. Because in Gojo’s mind, you’re not just beside him, you’re a part of him.

He never realized how much he needed you until you were here with him.

But happiness, you learn, is fleeting in the world of jujutsu sorcery.

---

Kenjaku had heard of you. Your cursed technique, the ability to merge with other sorcerers, and amplify their power. Such a gift was dangerous, especially when paired with someone like Gojo. He recognizes the danger you pose if you’re allowed to grow stronger, especially under Gojo’s protection. But Kenjaku is patient. That’s why he waits. Waits for the perfect moment, when you would be at your most vulnerable.

Shibuya, 9:27 PM. Gojo Satoru was sealed.

You wander the winding halls of the subway alone, eyes frantically darting all around you. Where was he?

You two had arrived at the scene together, alongside the other sorcerers, but it soon became clear the situation was much graver and more calculated than anyone had first expected. Gojo headed towards Fukutoshin Line Platform alone, entrusting you with Nanami and the remaining sorcerers. Nanami made sure you stuck close to him, not letting you out of his sight for a second as you two split off from the other sorcerers to search for Ijichi, who had mysteriously gone silent on the intercoms a while ago. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. You already knew how insufferable Gojo could sometimes be towards him. You hoped he was alright.

Nanami led you through the streets above, the city now a warzone. Buildings shook, the air thick with cursed energy. You followed his lead, searching for Ijichi amid the destruction. The cursed energy in the air continued to grow heavier, more menacing. And then you heard it. The sound of a swarm. A wave of curses emerged from the shadows, surrounding Nanami in an instant. He fought them off with a calm precision, but there were too many.

You couldn’t get close enough to touch him, couldn’t merge with him to amplify his strength. You tried to fight, but without a partner, your cursed technique was nearly useless.

“Run,” Nanami ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Go!” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounding, you turned and ran. The only place not teeming with curses was the underground subway entrance, so you slipped inside, cursing yourself for your own weakness.

---

That’s how you end up in your current predicament.

The subway is eerily quiet, the faint tremors of battle above shaking the walls. Dust particles fall from the ceiling as the yellow tinged led lights overhead flicker on and off. The air is thick with the stench of blood and curses. You swallow your fear and keep pushing forward in the dimly lit corridors. The sound of your footsteps seem to echo too loudly off the walls as your eyes dart around, searching desperately for Gojo.

“Gojo?” Your voice trembles as you call out for him, the silence swallowing your words. Something wasn’t right.

The floor beneath you shudders violently, and for a brief moment, you think the ceiling might collapse. You didn’t know it, but Sukuna and Mahoraga were clashing above, their battle shaking the city to its core.

You turn the corner. And you freeze.

You come face to face with a humanoid curse. Dead, greyish blue eyes and hair, and a patchwork face. His eyes widen with excitement as he spots you. You had seen the report from Nanami. His name was…

Mahito. A crazed grin stretches across his face, eyes glinting with manic glee as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

“Ohhh, you’re the one they’re all talking about.” He tilts his head.

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to remain calm, or at least give off the pretense of it. “Stay back,” you warn, your cursed energy flaring.

He keeps talking like he doesn’t even hear your words. “I wonder… what happens if I do this?”

His hand lashes out faster than you can process, aiming for your arm, intending to twist your flesh and warp your body just enough to incapacitate you.

But nothing happens.

His palm presses against your skin, and he feels it. That pull. Like his cursed energy is slipping away, getting swallowed into a void.

Mahito’s grin falters for the first time.

He jerks his hand back, staring at you with narrowed eyes. Then realization dawns.

“Ah… right. That’s your cursed technique, isn’t it?”

His confusion quickly twists back into delight.

“Oh, this’ll be fun. No wonder Kenjaku wants you alive”

You take a step back to run, but he moves faster. His fist connects with your stomach, and the impact sends you lurching into the concrete wall, where you slump to the ground.

“Alive doesn’t mean unharmed.” He crouches down to grab you by the collar. “You’ll come with me now.”

The damp, musty air clings to your skin when you wake in the dark, your head pounding. The walls of a dingy cell press in around you, suffocating in their emptiness. No sunlight reached here, only the faint, flickering light of a distant bulb that barely illuminated the room.

Your limbs feel like lead, barely able to resist as Kenjaku runs countless experiments, one after the other on you. The sting of a needle piercing your skin feels all too familiar now, followed by the burn of whatever strange liquid he would inject into your veins. Each time, it drags you into unconsciousness, the edges of reality slipping away.

You have the same reoccurring nightmare every time. You see Satoru walking ahead of you, but no matter how fast you run, how loudly you call out to him, his back only grows smaller and smaller. Your hands reach out futilely towards him, but he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t stop. Then he’s gone. And all you’re left with are the whispers. Cruel, taunting voices in the back of your mind.

If only you had done something differently.

You let him down.

He’s not coming for you.

The ground beneath your feet cracks, a void forming and swallowing you whole. You let out a soundless scream as you fall, knowing he wouldn’t be there to catch you. Then you wake in a cold sweat. There was no solace for you, no relief. The darkness of the cell is no better than the darkness of the void.

You’re growing weaker. You miss him. Desperately. Miss that familiar warmth of his cursed energy, miss his teasing voice, miss those kind, comforting eyes.

Groggily, you open your eyes, the faint sound of voices breaking through the fog in your head. Kenjaku and Mahito are speaking just outside your cell. You don’t know how many days it’s been. Your throat aches, you’re so thirsty. Their words come slowly, distorted by your exhaustion, taking time to process in your mind.

“…too dangerous to use…” Kenjaku’s voice is measured, clinical.

“Absorbing curses if she’s near them too long…” Mahito adds.

“So then, a waste of time.” Kenjaku concludes, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Her ability is far too advantageous for the sorcerers. If she remains, she’ll only become a liability to us.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. Were they planning on getting rid of you? Then that meant… Your body jolts as the barred gate is thrown open loudly, and you scramble to your feet using what remains of your strength. Mahito steps towards you wearing a terrifyingly wide smile. Too wide. He’s still talking to Kenjaku, though in your panic you can’t hear what he’s saying properly. The sound of your pounding heart fills your ears. You attempt to back away from him but you can only move so far before your back hits the wall. You see his mouth move again.

“If she serves no purpose to us then… why don’t we just get rid of her?”

His cold hands wrap around your throat, before you can process it. He’s squeezing, watching you choke and claw at his hands. He only laughs at your attempts to struggle, clearly unhinged. Tears fill your eyes, flowing down your cheeks. He coos in mock sympathy at the sight. It was sickening. Was this really how you were going to die? Your vision becomes hazy as your hands slowly drop to your sides.

The ground trembles beneath you as a deafening explosion tears through the air. The crushing grip around your throat falters in shock, and you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Shards of debris cascade around you like a deadly rain, but all you can feel is the warmth of sunlight spilling across your skin. It’s warm. A warmth you’d almost forgotten.

Blinking through the haze, your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness. You see a tall silhouette standing within the light, his white hair illuminated like a halo, his piercing blue eyes filled with raw fury. It’s him.

Satoru.

He looks frantic, his gaze locking onto you. You don’t remember what happens next as you finally pass out, but you swear you can hear your captor’s pitiful screams weaving their way into your dreams.

---

When your eyes open again, the harsh glow of artificial lights fills your vision. It takes a moment to register where you are. Shoko’s clinic. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, and the faint beeping of monitors accompanies the sluggish rhythm of your heart. Your body feels impossibly heavy, and the stiff brace around your neck prevents you from moving your head.

Your eyes begin to dart around the room, searching, desperate. The heart monitor beside you spikes erratically. Panic claws at your chest, tears stinging your eyes before you even understand why. You don’t know why you’re crying, just that you need to see him, badly.

Then a warm hand wraps firmly around your own. You recognize the touch instantly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is soft, steady, pulling you back from the edge. “I’m right here. You’re awake… thank god.”

Your body relaxes hearing his familiar voice, and a shaky breath escapes your lips, one you hadn’t realized you were holding. The bed shifts slightly as he leans over, his face coming into view.

And that’s when the tears fall in earnest.

You try to speak, but your throat is raw, the words breaking apart between hiccups. “I— I m-missed you so much— I…”

He silences you with an understanding smile, his thumb brushing gently at the tears streaking your cheeks. “I know. I know. I’m here now, okay? You’re safe.” His voice is quiet, soothing, but there’s a tremor of something beneath it. Relief, fear, maybe both.

He stays by your side, his hand never leaving yours, as silence settles between you. You finally notice how exhausted he looks. Dark circles shadowing his usually bright eyes, his normally neat hair a tousled mess. Even so, to you, he’s never looked more beautiful.

“You scared me, you know?” he murmurs after a while, the words almost too quiet to hear. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You want to apologize, but your voice catches. So instead, you squeeze his hand weakly.

---

A few days later, as you’re discharged, Shoko explains your injuries in her usual clipped tone. Your body is severely malnourished, and the curse had nearly fractured a vital bone in your neck. If Gojo had arrived even a few seconds later… she doesn’t finish the sentence, but her expression betrays the relief she doesn’t say aloud.

“You need to rest—no overexertion, no training, no missions,” Shoko warns, fixing you with a stern look. “I mean it. Don’t make me hunt you down.” Although her tone is clipped, you can tell she’s just as relieved as everyone else that you’re okay.

You manage a small smile, thankful for her concern for you. You make a mental note to gift her a bottle of her favorite wine later as thanks. Checking your phone, you notice a timid message from Ijichi, kindly pleading with you to try not to get kidnapped ever again, because Gojo was an absolute pain to deal with.

You find out later from reports that there was nothing left of the place, just rubble and ash. He had obliterated it all. Somehow Kenjaku had managed to escape during the chaos. But Mahito… it was a bloodbath. He didn’t stand a chance. The sheer devastation speaks volumes, but what hits you harder is the knowledge that he hadn’t stopped for even a moment. The second he was unsealed and heard about your disappearance—your likely kidnapping—he was livid. He didn’t rest once until he found you, until you were back in his arms where you belonged.

It was the first time you saw just how deep his need for you went.

You’re badly shaken. The events will haunt you for the rest of your life, your first taste of the brutality and violence of the Jujutsu world. But it’s clear Satoru fared even worse. After that he doesn’t leave your side for days, hovering constantly, as if afraid that you might disappear again the second he looks away. The whole experience serves as a painful reminder to him of your vulnerability. Without him, you were a target, easy prey for those who sought to exploit or destroy you. The thought eats away at him.

“You’re moving in with me,” he says one day, standing over you with an air of finality that left no room for argument.

You blink up at him from the couch, still recovering. “What?”

“It’s not up for debate,” he continues, arms crossed. “You’re safer with me. No one can get to you if you’re in my home.”

You take a moment to consider, but you find that you don’t really want to argue with him anyway. You can hear the hidden plea beneath his words. A part of you knows he’s right. If this is what he needs to find some semblance of peace of mind, then so be it. And a quieter, more selfish part of you doesn’t mind the idea of being close to him, spending more time with him.

“Okay,” you finally relent.

That’s how you find yourself standing in his penthouse a few hours later, what few belongings you own packed neatly into a bag at your side.

The penthouse is just as over-the-top as you expected: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek furniture, and little touches of Gojo’s eccentric personality scattered throughout.

“This is... a lot,” you murmur, taking in the sprawling space.

“Only the best for me, and now for you,” he says with a wink, tossing your bag onto the plush couch.

What catches your attention the most is the care he takes in making space for you. Your favorite snacks fill a section of the fridge, an extra toothbrush sits beside his in the bathroom, and a cozy corner of his study has been cleared out for you. It’s the little things, the quiet gestures, that tell you just how much this means to him.

But even as you settle into this new rhythm, something doesn’t sit right with you.

Satoru starts taking on more missions, alone. Where he used to insist on dragging you along for backup, now he refuses. Each time you bring it up, his excuses are vague, his tone dismissive.

Lately he had been returning home later and later, some nights not at all. His once-vibrant energy feels dimmed, like he’s burning himself out trying to shoulder more than even he can bear.

You hate seeing him like this.

The curses have been more active than ever, and you know he’s overworked. You try your best to help him with what you can, managing the paperwork, maintaining the space you shared, even preparing meals for him. But it’s not enough. He’s still stuck with the belief that as the strongest, he had to carry everything himself. You frown at the thought. You wish you could do more for him.

You hear the front door open, and you rush out of your shared bedroom to greet him. But your smile fades as you see him standing there, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, his usual carefree grin nowhere to be seen.

Your heart aches at how drained and worn out he looks. You tentatively step closer to him, wanting to soothe him but unsure of how. His blindfold keeps you from seeing his eyes, as if acting as the barrier between you and his true self. You feel an urge to pull it down. He lets you, hands resting at his sides as you gently tug down his blindfold. His weary eyes meet your own. Those usually sparkling eyes, now dull and lifeless.

You don’t know why you do it. It must have been instinctive. You just want to be able to lighten his pain and offer him rest, even just the slightest amount. Your hands move on their own, rising to lightly rest over his tired eyes. Covering them completely.

But the second your hands cover his eyes, his breath hitches. He can’t see anything. No cursed energy, no shapes, no flickering auras; its just darkness, pure and quiet. He’s stunned. His hands shakily reach up, wrapping around your wrists. Not to stop you, but to keep you there. Like if he lets go, that peace might disappear.

“What do you see?” you ask softly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness.

“Nothing. Nothing but you. Only you,” he murmurs, his voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter the moment.

Gojo, burdened by his Six Eyes from birth. He had spent his whole life seeing everything, constantly overwhelmed by the endless stream of cursed energy and the weight of being the strongest. He can only find true relief with you. For once, he isn’t the strongest sorcerer, the invincible figure everyone relies on. With you, he’s just Satoru, resting in the soft comfort of your hands, shielded from the constant noise of the world.

From that moment on, it becomes your thing together. After long, grueling missions where he’s pushed to his limits, when his mind is frayed and his vision is burned with cursed energy, he’d search for you, tugging gently on your hands, silently asking for comfort. He leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck, quietly asking, “Just for a minute… please…”

And you allow him as long as he needs, stroking his hair gently. Letting him enjoy that rare, sacred peace.

The intimacy deepens his attachment to you in ways he never thought possible. You’re no longer just his assistant, his partner. You’re the one person in the world who truly understands him, makes him feel human. It’s in these stolen moments, when the world falls away and it’s just the two of you, that he realizes how much he truly needs you. And when he thinks about how fragile you are, how vulnerable, it terrifies him.

You’re my everything, he thinks to himself one night, as your body rests above his. The room is quiet, save for the faint sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of Satoru’s heartbeat beneath you. You lay sprawled across his chest, your cheek resting against him as his arms hold you close to him.

Maybe that fear is the reason his arms wrap around you just a tad tighter, why he holds you flush to his own body as if afraid you’ll disappear.

“What do you think about having kids one day?”

Satoru blinks, caught completely off guard by your question. He stares at you, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. For once, Gojo Satoru, the man who always had something clever to say, was at a loss for words.

“You—kids?” he finally manages, his voice slightly hoarse.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. Kids.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, tilting his head back against the pillow as he processes your words. “Huh. You really know how to throw a guy off, don’t you?”

Your smile widens, and you prop yourself up on his chest, looking down at him. “I’m serious, Satoru. What do you think?”

His eyes flicker to yours, searching your expression for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might be joking. But you aren’t. You’re completely serious.

“I… I never thought about it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I never thought I’d want something like that. Or that I could even have it.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Why not?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Because I’m me,” he says simply. “The strongest. The guy everyone depends on. The guy who…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I never thought I deserved that kind of happiness. Not with the life I’ve lived. Not with all the things I’ve done.”

You feel a pang of sadness at his words, and you reach up, brushing your fingers gently along his jawline. “You deserve to be happy, Satoru,” you say softly. “You deserve to have a family, to have someone who loves you unconditionally. And you know what?”

He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I think you’d be an amazing dad,” you continue, your voice steady and sincere.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. But then his lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say, your voice firm.

He lets out a quiet laugh, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You make me believe it,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. When you pull back, his eyes are still locked on yours, searching, as if he was trying to commit this moment to memory.

"We'd make a cute kid," he eventually says, a genuine smile spreading across his face, one that makes your heart swell.

You can’t help but grin back, bright and contagious. His hands slide to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he guides you gently toward him.

And then he kisses you, slowly, deeply, as if pouring all of his emotions into that single moment.

In his arms, you feel it. The warmth, the love, the unspoken promise of a future that seems a little brighter, a little fuller.

With him, it feels right.

---

The kiss lingers in your mind, even as the two of you walk side by side toward the battlefield. The warmth of his hand in yours grounds you. His long fingers curl tightly around yours, as if to anchor you to him. To remind you of his silent promise.

I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.

But even with his reassurances, there’s a weight in the air, heavy and oppressive. You both know this fight isn’t like the others. Ahead of you, Sukuna’s cursed energy crackles in the distance, dark and suffocating, a storm that threatens to swallow everything whole.

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightens as you near the edge of the battlefield, and the two of you come to a stop. You glance up at him, and the sight takes your breath away. His white haori catches the breeze, billowing behind him like the wings of an angel sent to bring judgment. To you, maybe he was exactly that.

His hair is wild, tousled by the wind, and his blindfold is gone, leaving his piercing blue eyes on full display. They glimmer with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and beautiful. But beneath the crystalline clarity of his gaze, you see something softer. Something meant only for you.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice soft yet steady, the calm within the chaos.

You nod, your hand squeezing his in quiet reassurance. “Always.”

For a moment, the world seems to fall away. It’s just the two of you standing there, bound together by something deeper than words. You wish he didn’t have to fight. You wish things were different, that there was another way. But you know this is the path he has to walk. The world is counting on him. They always have.

So you’ll stand by him, no matter what.

Somewhere in the pit of your stomach, the uneasy feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong begins to take root.

---

The air crackles with cursed energy as Gojo and Sukuna stand, facing each other. The battlefield is in ruins, the ground scorched and torn as the clash of the two strongest sorcerers continues. Gojo stands in the center of it all, his body aching, his cursed energy reserves dangerously low. But inside him, he can feel you, your cursed energy merging with his, amplifying his strength, your unwavering determination giving him the edge he needed to keep fighting. Your presence is warm, steady, even as you pour every ounce of your strength into helping him.

But he knows what you’re doing.

“Stop it,” he grows, his voice strained as he sends another powerful attack towards Sukuna. His words aren’t aimed towards his enemy, but at you. “You’re pushing yourself too far. I can handle this.” “No, you can’t,” your voice echoes softly in his mind, calm yet firm. “Not alone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he blocks another strike, his fingers trembling from the strain. He can feel it, feel your energy fading, slipping through his fingers like sand. It’s not just his body weakening. It’s you giving everything you had, pouring your soul into protecting him.

“Damn it, stop!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. But you can hear the desperation and worry beneath the words. “I’m telling you, don’t do this! I won’t let you-”

“You don’t get to decide this, Satoru.” There’s a bittersweet smile in your voice, one he feels deep in his chest. “If it means keeping you alive, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, Sukuna’s cleave grazing his shoulder. His eyes widen in a panic as your words register. “No- no, don’t talk like that. We’re getting out of this together, you hear me?”

You don’t reply. Instead, he feels his arm raising on its own, his hand forming the symbol for a hollow purple. But he’s not the one in control. You are, your cursed energy overriding his will, guiding his body. The over exertion from the devastating technique would drain you completely. You both know it.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now. “Thank you… for everything. For making me feel like I wasn’t alone. For loving me. I’m sorry...”

“No. No, no no!” Gojo cries out desperately, as he tries to force his arms down. But his own body doesn’t listen to him, controlled by you using the last of your energy. The blinding glow of purple grows bigger at his finger tips, ready to end the battle. “Don’t you dare say goodbye to me! Don’t you dare-”

But then, he feels it. The moment you fade entirely. That comforting presence, the warmth he’d grown so used to. It was gone. His fingers release in that instant, his hollow purple launching forward with imperceivable speed, overpowering Sukuna in a brilliant burst of energy. It was over. Gojo had won. But victory feels like ashes in his mouth.

Because you were gone.

As the dust settles, he falls to his knees, his chest heaving. His hands claw at his heart, trying to feel for you, trying to sense even a sliver of your presence, but there was nothing. Nothing but a hollow, aching void, filling every crevice.

“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “No, no, no. Come back. Come back to me!” He clutches at his chest, tears streaming down his face as he calls your name over and over again. “Please… don’t leave me. I need you. I need you…”

Then, a faint glow emerges from his chest. He freezes, his breath hitching as he watches a small, delicate gem form in his hand. A teardrop shaped crystal, shimmering faintly with the last traces of your essence. It’s beautiful, radiant, and it breaks his heart into a million pieces.

He stares at it, tears dripping onto the gem as he cradles it in his palm. All that’s left of you. His hands shake as he holds it to his chest, gripping it tightly as if afraid it might vanish. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the sobs wrack his body. “I should have protected you… I should have stopped you… Why did you do this for me?” His voice cracks, raw with pain.

“You promised we’d stay together…”

---

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. He barely sleeps anymore. Reduced to a shell of the man he used to be. He has the gem crafted into a necklace, the delicate pendant resting over his heart at all times. He clutches it during sleepless nights, fingers brushing over its smooth surface as he whispers your name into the silence.

“Do you know how much I miss you?” he murmurs one night, his voice hoarse. He’d been crying, again. He always did when the nights were too quiet. “Do you know how much it hurts to wake up every day without you here?” His thumb traces the edges of the gem as if it could bring you back.

Sometimes, when the moonlight hits the gem just right, it seems to shimmer, and he swears he can feel a faint warmth radiating from it. As if you were reassuring him. It’s foolish, he knows, but it’s the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

“I still look for you,” he admits quietly. “In the crowds. In my dreams.”

His voice cracks, and he bows his head, tears falling freely. “I miss you so much. I miss everything about you. Your laugh. Your touch. Your stupid little jokes.” His grip on the gem tightens. “God, I’d give anything to hear you again. To feel you again. Just… once.”

He pauses, his breath catching.

“If I had known…”

His voice trails off as he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Had I known I wouldn’t see you again,

I would have said goodbye.

Unbeknownst to him, the gem begins to glow faintly, a soft, warm light pulsing from within. At first, it’s subtle, almost imperceptible. But then the light grows brighter, more radiant, until it fills the room, making his breath hitch. He freezes, staring at it with wide eyes. For a second, he thinks he’s hallucinating, his grief playing cruel tricks on him. But then he feels it. The familiar hum of your cursed energy. A presence he hadn’t felt in so long.

“…No,” he whispers, weakly shaking his head in disbelief. “No, this can’t be…”

The light begins to shift and shape itself, materializing into something he thought he’d never see again.

You.

“Satoru,” you say, your voice soft and warm, filled with love and longing.

He doesn’t move at first. He can’t. He just stares at you, his entire body trembling. “…Is this real?” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Are you real?”

You smile at him, stepping closer. “It’s real,” you say gently. “I’m real.”

He reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might disappear if he touches you. But the moment his hand brushes against yours, his composure shatters. He pulls you into his arms, clutching you tightly, face buried in your shoulder as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

“You’re here,” he says breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re really here…”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him just as tightly. “I’m here,” you murmur, your voice soothing. “I’m sorry it took so long, Satoru. My cursed energy… it was all but gone after the battle. But there was a sliver of me left in that gem. Over time, I slowly regained my strength… enough to come back to you.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks at you, his tears streaming freely. “I thought I lost you,” he chokes out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

You smile, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. “I was never really gone,” you say softly. “You kept me close the whole time. Thanks for taking such good care of me, even in gem form,” you can’t help but add with a chuckle.

His laugh is shaky, barely more than a breath. “Of course I did,” he says, his voice low and trembling. “It was the one thing that kept me sane. The only thing I had left of you.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry for putting you through all that,” you whisper against his lips. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a long, shaky breath. “You’d better not,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t…”

“You won’t,” you promise, your hands resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You saved me, Satoru. You saved everyone. You were so brave. So strong. I’m so proud of you.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I didn’t save you,” he says quietly. “You saved me. You always have.”

You smile softly, your hands brushing through his hair. “Then let’s call it even,” you say, your voice light and teasing.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru smiles, warm and genuine, brimming with everything he feels for you. He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go.

His warmth was the first thing you felt as you entered this strange world. You hope it’s the last thing you’ll feel as you one day leave it behind, together with him.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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peachsayshi · 1 day ago

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PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna angst #sukuna angst #hurt/comfort

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finelinevogue · 6 hours ago

Text

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

#azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

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vibelladonna · 18 hours ago

Text

✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows?

For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.

Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep. Priorities, right?

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.

It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind:

Crowe’s going to be there.

Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening.

When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, thigh high socks, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment.

“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Jericho.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, like I said he might notice.”

You roll your eyes, before releasing a sigh, “Britt, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”

“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”

“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?

“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But different heels and if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”

You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.

This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.

The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.

Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”

You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.

Crowe.

He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.

You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.

You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.

Oh no.

Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.

His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.

“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Britt made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”

Crowe raises a brow, “Britney suggested this..?” then soft smile appears once again as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”

You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”

“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”

You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.

“Excuse me?”

“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”

You rolled your eyes, “I look ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head away from his gaze.

It wasn’t long before you felt his finger under your chin to look at him once more, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, “I wouldn’t say that now,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him.

“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? Like you said, half the room is staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”

“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.

“It’s way too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Let’s leave.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”

Your eyes dart around the room, catching a few glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.

“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”

Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”

You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.

Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.

“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.

“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”

The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.

He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his blueberry cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.

“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.

“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.

He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”

The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.

“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”

The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.

His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.

“Please tell me to stop…” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. “…before I do something I’ll regret.”

A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.

You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze still lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His deep blue eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual warmth replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His soft smile was still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you move your body forward—out of the passenger seat closing the distance between you and him.

His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his soft smile faltering, replaced by a soft gasp for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs as you warp your arms around his neck looking at him.

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is filled with disbelief.He inhales quickly, his chest rising against yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly on the tight spandex of your bunny suitas though he’s testing the reality of the situation.

You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but happily composed, but now? Now, his usual teasing and confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.

“Don’t regret this…” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop, Jericho.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying.

His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.

Soon his lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “I won’t.”

May got a little carried away here…

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You don’t know how it happened.

So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game at a party.

It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…

All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”

And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”

Big mistake.

Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.

“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”

You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”

Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”

And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.

How the tf did Hyugo knew your size anyway?

The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.

He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.

The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?

Bright red.

Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.

“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.

You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the crotch area down to show less skin, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo from party earlier today,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.

Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup— floppy bunny ears, the thigh-high socks, even a little button tie—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”

“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”

Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”

He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.

Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.

You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.

“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.

Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.

“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“Sure, okay,” you say, sighing as you settle deeper into the couch, before you mention, “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”

“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.

“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.

Fast.

One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.

“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.

“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”

“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”

“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.

You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.

“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.

His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This outfit isn’t practical.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.

“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.

“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.

But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.

And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.

Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.

“Sol, I can do that myself—”

“N-No,” he practically begged. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”

You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.

His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.

“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.

“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”

He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.

“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”

“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”

And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.

Please don’t make him stop…

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.

You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.

Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.

The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.

A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…

You looked stunning.

Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. His brain? Absolutely empty.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.

You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”

Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.

You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”

“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”

“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”

Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”

You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”

“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."

“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”

Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.

Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”

“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”

“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”

You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.

“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.

He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.

“Hey! What the hell—”

You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.

“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”

You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.

“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.

“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.

Is he blushing?

Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”

“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.

His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.

“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.

“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery as you leaned forward slightly, one of your legs crossing just enough to invade his space. The toe of your heel pressed lightly against his chest, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”

Geo, ever the picture of calm composure, froze mid-motion. His hands, which had been casually adjusting the cuffs of his jacket a moment ago, were now completely still. For a second, it was like time itself had paused. Slowly—deliberately—his gaze lifted, locking with yours.

Fuck.

His aquamarine eyes, normally narrowed and calculating, were different now. They seemed darker, more intense, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t annoyance, nor was it the usual stoic indifference he wore like armor. Whatever it was, it had you swallowing hard.

The teasing smirk on your face faltered just slightly as curiosity crept in. You tilted your head to the side, your lips parting faintly as you tried to read him, to figure out what was going on behind that icy stare. “Geo?” you prompted softly, your narrowed eyes searching his face.

Still, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t seem to.

It was unnerving—and kind of thrilling, if you were honest. Normally, a jab like that would earn you a dry, sarcastic retort, something sharp-edged that would put you right back in your place. But this time? Nothing. Whatever comeback he’d had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more uncertain.

The silence stretched, tension thickening between the two of you like a coiled spring. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heartbeat hammering in your chest or his, but the moment felt impossibly fragile.

“Seriously, say something,” you murmured, a hint of nervous laughter creeping into your tone. You pressed your foot just a little harder against his chest, trying to get any kind of reaction. “You’re starting to freak me out.”

His gaze flicked briefly to your leg—the curve of your calf, the ridiculous heel perched at the end of it—before snapping back to your face. “You shouldn’t play games you can’t win,” he said finally, his voice low and even.

Your breath caught for half a second. His hand moved, wrapping firmly around your ankle—not harshly, but with enough pressure to make your pulse skip a beat. With one smooth motion, he guided your leg away from his chest.

“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.

The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your expression faltered. “...Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.

Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.

“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”

He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”

Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.

“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”

Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”

“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”

Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.

“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.

“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.

Geo’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.

“Geo, what the hell—”

Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.

The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.

You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.

“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”

Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.

“Oh,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.

“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.

“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe’s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”

“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”

“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.

“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”

You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”

Wow. Five minutes it is then.

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back crowe #the kid at the back sol #tkatb crowe #tkatb sol #crowe ichabod #crowe x reader #sol x reader #sol brugmansia #jericho crowe ichabod #tkatb geo #geo oogami #tkatb vn

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days ago

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꧂ 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓵𝓵 || With Fred & George Weasley ||

• Fred Weasley•

Fred Weasley leaned casually against the stone wall in the corridor, waiting for you to finish speaking with your friends. His twin, George, had teased him mercilessly about his sudden interest in making a grand gesture, but Fred had waved him off with a grin. This was his moment, and he was going to make it memorable.

As you turned and spotted him, Fred straightened, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his brown eyes. “Ah, just the person I was looking for!” he said, stepping forward with his signature grin.

You raised an eyebrow, used to his antics but curious nonetheless. “What are you up to, Weasley?” Your head tilting to the side as a smile tugged that the corner of your lips.

“Me? Up to something? Never,” he said, feigning innocence, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Actually, I came to ask you something important. Very serious business.”

"Is that so?"

Fred pulled a small, glittering box out of his pocket and held it up dramatically. “I’ve been pondering this for ages—well, alright, a few days, but who’s counting?” He winked as he flicked the lid open to reveal a miniature dancing figure of the two of you, twirling to music only it could hear.

Your eyes widened, a laugh escaping before you could help it. “What is this?” It was cute, something you weren't expecting from the prankster and you were honesty curious on how he even made something like this.

“This,” Fred said with a flourish, “is me asking if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me. Because, you know, I could ask anyone, but you’re the only one who actually makes me nervous enough to think I need to bribe you with tiny enchanted figurines.”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, his usual bravado softened by a flicker of hope in his eyes. “And if I say yes, do I get to keep this?” You asked stepping closer to the tall redhead.

Fred smirked. “Say yes, and I’ll throw in free dances all night. But if you’re not impressed, I’ll just have to figure out a bigger way to win you over.”

Holding back your laughter you pretending to think it over. “Well, I suppose I could do worse than free dances and enchanted figurines. Alright, Weasley, you’ve got yourself a date.”

His grin widened as he slipped the box into your hand. “Brilliant! I promise, you won’t regret it. Unless, of course, I step on your toes. But in that case, I’ll make it up to you with snacks—courtesy of the kitchens....and I do know the best way to get into the kitchens”

Fred offered you an exaggerated bow before walking backward down the corridor, still grinning. “See you at the Ball, partner!”

As he turned the corner, you couldn’t help but shake your head, laughing to yourself. Leave it to Fred Weasley to make something as simple as an invitation into a moment you’d never forget.

•George Weasley•

George Weasley had never been one to back down from a challenge, but this was different. As he leaned casually against the cool stone wall of the dungeon corridor, his usual confidence faltered. His eyes darted toward the approaching figure—a Slytherin girl who had caught his attention far more than he cared to admit.

“Alright, Weasley, you’ve got this,” he muttered under his breath, though his palms felt clammy, betraying his nerves.

As you approached, your head tipped to the side,your sharp green and silver tie standing out against your robes, George straightened up. You were used to the Weasley twins’ antics, but George’s nervous energy was unmistakable today. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, his usual grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Hey! Fancy running into you here,” he began, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. “Though I suppose it’s not that surprising, what with this being…you know, the Slytherin common room corridor and all.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “You’re not lost, are you, Weasley?”

“Me? Lost? Nah.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, maybe a little. Not geographically, of course. Just, uh, trying to find the courage for something.”

Your curiosity piqued, your lips twitching into a smile watching him. “Go on.”

George cleared his throat and finally looked you in the eyes, his freckled cheeks faintly pink. “So, the Yule Ball is coming up. Big fancy event, lots of music, dancing, snogging under enchanted mistletoe—” He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. “Anyway, I thought… well, I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?”

Your lips then curved into a smirk, enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability, it was cute, seeing someone who's usually so confidant become a stuttering mess. “You, a Gryffindor, want to take a Slytherin to the Yule Ball? What would your brother say?”

“Oh, Fred would love it. He’s already got bets going about whether I’d manage to ask you,” George admitted with a sheepish grin, the tension easing slightly.

You considered him for a moment, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat. Then, finally, you smiled—genuinely this time. “Alright, Weasley. I’ll go with you. But don’t expect me to let you off easy if you step on my toes while dancing.”

His face lit up, his grin wide and relieved. “Deal. Just be prepared for the best dance of your life.” He gave you a wink though his body stiffened when you placed your lips against his cheek.

"See you around Weasley." Giving him your own wink you waved him off as you walked away and as you turned toward the entrance to the Slytherin House, George let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He might have been nervous, but at least now he had something to look forward to—showing the whole school just how well a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could dance together.

#drabbles #drabble #HP #JKR is a hoe #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem #george weasley x slytherin!reader #slytherin #slytherin reader

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welcometoyunosworld · 2 days ago

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Lovely, see?

𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐢-𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐆-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝙎𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤 [𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩]; 𝘑𝘪-𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘚𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦!! 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘢𝘦𝘴!💋

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You and Ji-yong were well known as the sweetest couple by many, many fans. Hell, you don't even see any bashers with the amount of fans that support you, creating fan pages about you and your Ji-yong. Sure you had Instagram, full of pictures of you, Ji-yong, you and Ji-yong together, maybe even TikTok too. But you only have a few posts there, sneak peaks of your own songs that your fans love.

Although whenever you miss Ji-yong, since he also has his tours, and can be very busy, you would watch the fanmade stuff about you and Ji-yong. It was out of curiosity, and plus, it was so sweet to see fans making those cute videos about you and Ji-yong. Giggles escaped your lips as you watched the 24th video that popped up from the search '𝙂-𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙔/𝙣'. Your giggles turned into a soft laugh when you came across an edit of you and Ji-yong, being the best couple.

And it was true, you two were the best of couples. The definition of true love, loyalty, compassion and patience. Talk about a power couple, hell, your collabs with Ji-yong always got fans going crazy. Tours? Matching outfits. Period.

He wanted you to feel special, and you wanted the same. He needs you to know that he loves you for who you really are, not because you're a celebrity, not because you're beautiful. In short, you both wanna make each other happy and loved no matter what.

Before you met Ji-yong, it was like a loop to you. Wake up, rehearsal, write songs, tours and make money. It was so 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁, your motivation for writing and singing was crumbling away, you felt helpless, alone. Your staff was there but what will they do? They only record your daily life, to which you get pissed and shut them out and lock yourself in your hotel room for days. YG didn't like it one bit, but they didn't wanna lose you, 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰.

Until you met this 𝗚-𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 at the cafe you would go to every weekends, you didn't recognize him at first until you noticed his colored hair and nearly screamed when you realized who just offered you a handkerchief.

Okay so here's how it went,

You were just making your way outta there because you got your order and you wanna get back home as soon as possible, but the moment you open the door, there goes Mr. Ji-yong who bumps into you, spilling your precious coffee all over your beautiful outfit. “Oh shit- Miss, I'm so sorry.” You really didn't have the energy to even reply but when you saw his face and when he saw yours, you two had a staring contest before you eventually went like; “Am i hallucinating after days of no sleep? Is that really you Mr. Kwon?” You whispered and he chuckled. “Yes Ms. L/n.”

So that's how your love story with Ji-yong started. You knew him, he knew you but none of your asses had the guts to text or talk, just liking each other's posts until fans started to notice.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Aein? Earth to Aein??” Ji-yong snaps his fingers in front of you making you blink and look at him wide eyed with a 'Huh??', he laughed softly and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I was saying, come to my tour on the 5th, Saturday.” He said softly, cupping your cheek and you smiled softly. You placed your hand above his, looking into his eyes. “Of course, I'm not busy. My interview is on the 10th anyway.” This brought a smile to Ji-yong's face and he pulled you in, cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

Damn lucky you are. Little did you know, you'd be the one in tears of joy soon.

Standing there at the front, literally right near the stage, excited as the fans. You adjusted your mask and sunglasses as you sighed softly, you can't help but feel a bit annoyed that you had to hide like this but it was for Ji-yong and watching him slay like he always has. Five more minutes before the precious man would finally show up. And you're here wondering what on earth is this album about that Ji-yong didn't even give you any sneak peaks like he used to.

Brushing it off, thinking it was just a really good surprise, you waited patiently until the music finally started and there's your Ji-yong, ah, G-Dragon making his way there with a proud smile on his face. Your smile only grew as you listened to the first song, mentioning stuff about love, compassion and loyalty. You couldn't help but chuckle, the lyrics had a deeper meaning that Ji-yong knew 𝘆𝗼𝘂'd understand better than anyone else.

The final song has arrived and you were caught off guard by Ji-yong who suddenly got off stage and gently swooped you in his arms and brought you on stage. What the hell? Is this part of the song or something? You shrieked and held onto him, the crowd's cheers were too damn loud and Ji-yong gently removed your sunglasses and mask. “Ji?? What's going on?” He only smiled at you and gently placed you down on your feet.

“Listen to me, Aein.” He said as he brought the mic back to his lips, the music started again. Lyrics expressing his love for you, how you make him feel loved and appreciated, and—

“𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆?”

You froze and your eyes widened when Ji-yong got on one knee. Reaching for the small box in his pocket and looking up at you with a soft smile and your tears were already streaming down your cheeks, your heart was racing and you looked away, a staff handed you a mic and you looked at Ji-yong with disbelief and admiration..

“Oh, Ji.. You did all this.. for me?” Your shaky voice came as Ji-yong chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Aein. I wanted.. to surprise you, and make this moment special for you, not just me. So, Aein, will you marry me” Ji-yong puts the mic down so he could hold your hand and you couldn't even talk, just nodding your head with a smile on your face. “Yes..” Barely above a whisper, but Ji-yong heard it nonetheless.

Easily sliding the ring around your ring finger, oh it was perfect alright. He quickly hugged you, bringing you up and doing a little twirl as everyone cheered for you both.

“This is perfect, Ji..” You muttered softly.

“You're perfect, Aein.”

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

How do we feel, singles? Jk jk HAHAH

hope u like this one bc i do. It's so cute😔💋

#bigbang #kpop #choi seunghyun #daesung #gdragon #bigbang x reader #kpop x reader #kwon jiyong #taeyang #music

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jhyoos · 18 hours ago

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REBEL GIRL

rockstar sevika x influencer reader

Chapter 10: Family Reunion

summary : (y/n) takes sevika to her annual family reunion.

mentions : homophobia, lil angst, angry sevika, competitive sevika, drunk sevika, fame au, modern au, happy ending, time skip, fast paced beginning, sevika being a passenger princess, domestic sevika

notes: last chapter yall…😔 just a psa it’s been a total of 5 1/2 months (y/n) and Sevika have been together after the end

You were seated in first class, but the quiet wasn’t comforting—it felt strange, almost unsettling, after weeks of chaos. No Caitlyn lightly humming a tune while tapping out a melody on her keyboard. No Jinx banging out a rhythm on any surface she could find, nor Vi throwing mock punches into the air while Sevika teased her with bass riffs. It was just you now, left to your thoughts and the buzzing emptiness.

You leaned back, headphones over your ears, but even the music didn’t drown out the vivid memories. Watching them all on stage had been electric: Vi’s commanding voice tearing through the air as her fingers shredded the guitar strings, Jinx drumming like she was setting the world on fire, and Sevika—wild and untamed—plucking her bass with enough intensity to send the crowd into a frenzy. Caitlyn was the calm amidst the chaos, playing her keys and singing backing vocals with a steady, elegant precision that balanced the energy of the others.

You missed it all: the long road trips, the ridiculous banter, the post-show exhilaration, and of course, Sevika—completely in her element, sweating and grinning like a maniac as the fans screamed her name. You sighed, pulling out your phone and setting up your camera on the tray table in front of you. The angle wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

After connecting your microphone to ensure the audio was crisp, you pressed record.

“Hey, guys,” you began, offering a small, tired smile. “So... this is it. I’m officially done touring with Shattered Souls. I’m back to personal bigger things and most definitely the biggest high of my career. By the time I post this video, they’ll still be out there, tearing it up on stage. If you can, seriously, buy a ticket to the nearest city. Watching them live is something else. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

You paused, the faint hum of the airplane filling the silence as you gathered your thoughts.

“I just wanna say, before I close this video off, that I had the time of my life with them. They are genuine, talented, and absolutely insane—in the best way possible. They love their fans, they love their music, and they give it everything they’ve got every single night.

“Honestly, when Caitlyn first messaged me asking if I wanted to collab with her band, I thought it was a terrible idea.” You laughed, shaking your head at the memory. “But it turned out to be the best mistake of my life. Because of that, I met Sevika, and I love her so much. Like... a ridiculous amount.”

The smile on your face softened as the emotions bubbled up.

“I’ve also grown to connect with all of them like family. Vi’s chaotic energy, Jinx being, well, Jinx, Caitlyn’s calm genius... and Sevika—who’s somehow even crazier on stage than Vi and Jinx combined. These people have become such an important part of my life, and I know I’ll keep that connection with them.

“If you haven’t checked them out or their music yet, their Spotify link will, of course, be below along with their Instagrams. Go give them a listen. Seriously, do it.”

You took a deep breath, letting your smile linger a little longer.

“And, uh, yeah... this is your favorite YouTuber logging off. Until next time.”

You stopped the recording, turning off the microphone on your phone. The screen went blank, but your thoughts raced. You missed them already—missed the energy, the madness, the shared moments of triumph after a show. But this wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself. It was just the beginning of a new chapter.

Leaning back into your seat, you closed your eyes, the faint echoes of their last performance still buzzing in your ears. You couldn’t wait for the moment you’d reunite, and until then, you’d hold onto every memory like a lifeline.

“Yes, Sevika, I am on the way,” you grumbled into the phone as you slid into the driver’s seat and started your car. It had been a whole month since you’d last seen Sevika and the others. A long month. During that time, your last video blew up, garnering millions of views and likes. That kind of exposure turned every one of Shattered Souls’ remaining shows into sold-out events. Their managers even had to add repeat shows in certain states due to the overwhelming demand, raking in even more cash.

You adjusted your AirPods as Sevika’s voice came through, teasing you about having to get up so early. “Oh, like it’s my fault you booked the first flight out,” you shot back, exasperated but grinning nonetheless. She had insisted on an early flight to see you as soon as possible, leaving the others to return on their usual schedule.

You glanced down at yourself as you hit the road, slightly embarrassed by your appearance. A ramen-stained shirt, baggy sweatpants, and mismatched Crocs—whatever you’d found in the rush out the door. “I swear, I look like I just rolled out of bed,” you muttered, though Sevika didn’t seem to care.

As you drove, she kept the conversation light, her laughter filling the silence in between. “Did you have to book such an early flight, ba—OH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, WHO TOLD YOU TO GO?!” you yelled, slamming on the brakes as a car cut you off.

The sound of Sevika laughing uproariously came through your AirPods, and you could practically hear the smirk on her face. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?” she teased.

You grumbled under your breath, trying to focus on the road as you neared the airport. “Ugh… I’m parking now. Come out—I’m in a red Camaro,” you said, glancing for an empty spot.

“I think I know what your car looks like,” Sevika replied dryly. “You’ve sent me about a hundred photos of it since you bought it.”

“Well, excuse me for being proud of my baby,” you retorted, cutting the engine. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you waited, watching the revolving doors of the terminal. The anticipation of seeing her again after so long was starting to make your heart race.

A few minutes later, you spotted her walking toward the car, looking impossibly good even after an early morning flight. “Finally,” you sighed as she opened the passenger door and slid in.

“Took you long enough,” Sevika teased, leaning over to plant a kiss on your temple.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, a soft smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. Seeing her again made the whole chaotic morning worth it.

The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds as you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. It was another busy day ahead, but the real challenge was getting Sevika out of bed. After another long night exploring new... territories in your sex life, she was completely passed out, her arm draped over her face as if shielding herself from any obligations.

Sevika had been bouncing between your house and hers for months now. Between her schedule and your own packed calendar, your time together felt fleeting. Since your influencer career had skyrocketed, luxury brands were constantly reaching out to have you model for their campaigns. You’d even graced a few runways, though so far, only in Los Angeles. Despite your hectic modeling gigs, you always found time to vlog, keeping your followers engaged and rooting for your success.

Once dressed, you glanced at Sevika sprawled on the bed. She was still deep in sleep, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as if she was dreaming about something—probably last night. Rolling your eyes, you walked over and leaned down, brushing your lips against hers until she stirred.

“Mmm,” she groaned, cracking one eye open to see you. A sleepy smile tugged at her face before she pulled you down for another kiss.

“Wake up,” you said against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak. “We’ve gotta be in New York by noon.”

She groaned again, flopping back dramatically as you straightened up and grabbed the suitcases you both had packed the night before. Dragging them to the bedroom door, you glanced over your shoulder. “Come on, Sev. I’m not breaking a nail carrying these downstairs.”

That seemed to do the trick. With a grumble and a stretch, Sevika swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered as she tugged on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, her hair still a little messy but effortlessly cool.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, watching as she hefted the suitcases with ease and carried them to the car. You followed her downstairs, doing a final mental checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten. Tomorrow was Easter, which meant a big family reunion, and you needed to be in New York by the afternoon to help with food prep, decorations, and setting up games for the kids.

Once the suitcases were securely packed in the trunk, you walked around the car to the driver’s side. “We have everything, right?” you asked, pausing before opening the door.

“Everything,” Sevika confirmed, already buckled in and leaning back in her seat.

You nodded, climbing in and starting the car. The drive to the airport wasn’t long, but the anticipation of seeing your family—and the chaos that always came with reunions—had you both a little on edge.

The private jet you’d rented was waiting for you on the tarmac, sleek and ready to whisk you both away to New York. It was a luxury you didn’t take for granted, and as you settled into the plush seats, you glanced over at Sevika. She was already dozing off again, her head resting against the window.

“Lazy,” you muttered under your breath, smiling softly. With everything you had going on, moments like these—just the two of you—were what you treasured the most.

The crisp New York air greeted you as you stepped out of the car with Sevika, luggage in tow. Your parents’ house came into view, its familiar warmth already making you smile. The front door opened before you even had a chance to knock, and your parents stood there beaming.

“Oh, welcome, Sevika!” your mother exclaimed, stepping forward to hug her tightly. Your mother wasn’t the handshake type, and neither was your father, who followed with an equally warm hug. Sevika, though a little caught off guard by their enthusiasm, accepted their hugs with a shy smile, murmuring her thanks.

“Come on in,” your dad said, motioning toward the door. “I cleaned (Y/N)’s room for you two… Well, I dusted. She’s always been good about keeping her room clean,” he added with a chuckle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, shooting him a playful grin. You turned to Sevika and gestured toward the stairs. “Sevika, you can go ahead and take the luggage up to my room. I’m sure I already need to help with the food.”

“Sure,” Sevika said, hefting the bags effortlessly. She paused for a moment. “You sure I can’t help out either?”

“You’ll have plenty to do, trust me,” you teased, patting her arm before heading toward the kitchen with your mom.

As the evening progressed, Sevika became an unofficial extra set of hands for your family. Anytime someone needed a jar opened, a can pried, or something retrieved from the highest shelf, Sevika was called upon.

“Sevika, can you open this?” your mom asked, holding out a stubborn jar of pickles.

“Sevika, can you grab that pan up there? No, no, the one way in the back,” your dad chimed in, pointing toward the top shelf.

Sevika handled each request with ease, and despite her usually intimidating demeanor, she blended in with your family as if she’d been there all along.

By the time everything was prepped and ready for the reunion, you found Sevika sitting at the kitchen counter, a slightly amused look on her face. “I told you you’d have plenty to do,” you said with a grin, handing her a glass of water.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, smirking. “I didn’t think I’d be the designated muscle for the night, though.”

Your parents laughed from across the room. “You’re a lifesaver, Sevika,” your mom said. “We might have to borrow you for every holiday!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika joked, but there was a softness in her tone, like she didn’t really mind.

You smiled, watching her interact so naturally with your family. It made you feel even more certain that she belonged here, with you, no matter how chaotic things got.

The clock had just struck midnight, and the kitchen was still bustling with activity. The counters were covered with bowls, spatulas, and a fine dusting of flour from the cakes you and your mom had been making earlier. The sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate wafted through the air as the cakes baked in the oven, their golden tops rising slowly.

You let out a long yawn, leaning against the counter as your eyelids grew heavier. “I think I’m gonna take a nap for a few hours,” you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Your dad, sitting on the couch in the living room, was deeply engrossed in an episode of Criminal Minds. Sevika was right beside him, equally locked in, her arms crossed as she stared at the screen with intense focus. Neither of them even glanced away as they replied in perfect unison, “Okay.”

Your mom, still wiping down the counters, looked over at you with a soft smile. “Of course, hun. Get plenty of sleep. I’ll finish up here.”

You gave her a small nod, your movements slow and heavy as the sleepiness really started to set in. “Good night,” you said, your voice gentle as you turned toward the living room.

“Good night,” your dad mumbled distractedly, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Night,” Sevika added, sparing you a quick glance and a small smirk before her attention returned to the unfolding crime scene on the screen.

With that, you headed upstairs, the sound of the TV faintly trailing behind you. As you climbed into your old bed, you smiled faintly at the thought of Sevika and your dad bonding over their shared love of Criminal Minds. It wasn’t long before the warmth of your blanket and the faint hum of the oven downstairs lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

When you woke up, the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen drew you out of bed. After showering and getting dressed, you headed downstairs, expecting to find your mom working on the last-minute preparations. Instead, you were met with a sight that stopped you in your tracks.

Sevika was already a thousand steps ahead of you. She stood at the counter wearing a pink apron with the word “Mommy” embroidered on it, her broad frame completely at odds with the delicate garment. Your mom was by her side, showing her how to frost the cakes that had been cooling overnight.

You leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Sevika’s muscles flexed every time she squeezed the piping bag, her large hands surprisingly gentle as she guided the frosting in smooth, even swirls across the cake’s surface. Her face was the perfect picture of concentration, her tongue sticking out just slightly as she focused on getting the perfect amount of frosting out. It was almost unfair how good she looked—domestic and strong all at once.

You couldn’t help yourself. You took out your phone and snapped a quick picture without her noticing. It was too cute not to capture. Her brows furrowed, her tongue still poking out as she worked, completely unaware of you standing there. The sight of her in that ridiculous pink apron, paired with her muscular build, was the perfect contradiction—and you were adding this to your “Sevi-bear” photo album immediately.

You grinned to yourself as you looked at the photo, already imagining teasing her about it later. But for now, you stayed quiet, content to watch her try something so completely out of her element—and excel at it, as she always did.

The family car was packed carefully, each dish delicately arranged in the trunk to avoid any spills. You and Sevika sat in the backseat with the cakes balanced on your laps, your mom driving while your dad gave directions. Sevika kept her hand steady on one of the cakes to ensure it wouldn’t slide, her other hand casually resting on your knee.

When you arrived at the reunion venue, the energy was palpable. Family members swarmed to greet you, all warm smiles and hugs. For a brief moment, some assumed Sevika was just a friend accompanying you. That assumption didn’t last long as the day unfolded.

Your little cousins were particularly fascinated by Sevika’s metal arm. A cluster of them crowded around her, asking endless questions and eagerly poking at the cool surface. She was patient with them, answering their curious questions and even flexing the arm for their amusement. “Does it hurt?” one of them asked, wide-eyed. “Not anymore,” Sevika replied, ruffling the kid’s hair with her free hand.

As more family members chatted with you, the usual questions about your career came up. You fielded inquiries about your success as an influencer, politely sidestepping the occasional fake family member who tried to slip in a request for money or a shoutout. Sevika noticed, giving you a small smirk when one particularly pushy cousin asked for free promo. You handled it gracefully, your hand squeezing Sevika’s reassuringly.

After lunch, it became clear to most of the family that Sevika wasn’t just your friend. It started with her casually wiping frosting off your cheek, the gesture intimate and tender. Some family members caught on quickly and congratulated you on finding someone who seemed to genuinely adore you. Others weren’t as supportive—chiefly your grandpa.

You hadn’t prepared Sevika for your grandfather’s homophobic tendencies, so when he began loudly hurling slurs, it caught her completely off guard. The room fell silent as Sevika’s face darkened with anger. You quickly grabbed her arm and led her outside before she could say or do something she might regret.

“I’m sorry, Sevi,” you said once you were outside, your voice trembling. “I should’ve told you about him. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sevika interrupted, her jaw tight but her voice steady. “I’ll take his words as a challenge. He’ll come around.”

Her words hung in the air, and before you could fully grasp what she meant, the evening’s adult games kicked off—and Sevika turned them into a battleground. She and your grandpa faced off in every event: drinking musical chairs, beer pong, and even an impromptu dance battle when both were too drunk to care about anything else. You stood on the sidelines, utterly baffled as your girlfriend and grandfather line-danced together like lifelong friends, the rest of the family cheering them on.

By the end of the night, your grandpa was slumped in a chair next to Sevika, both of them too drunk to stand but deep in conversation about fishing, hunting, and other pastimes you never knew Sevika had indulged in before her rockstar days. You listened quietly as they spoke, the unexpected camaraderie between them leaving you stunned.

At one point, their conversation shifted, and both pairs of eyes landed on you.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Sevika said, her voice filled with affection.

“She got the looks from her grandmother,” your grandpa replied, his words slurred but sincere. “May she rest in peace.”

“I’m gonna marry her,” Sevika announced casually, taking a sip from her beer.

Your heart stopped. “Marry my wife?” your grandfather slurred, looking utterly confused.

“No, you dumbass,” Sevika shot back with a drunken grin. “Marry your granddaughter. I’ve already got her parents’ approval, and I’ve got the ring. I just need yours, old man.”

Your eyes widened as the words sank in. Sevika was planning to propose to you? And you were finding out like this?

Your grandfather scratched his chin, pretending to mull it over. Finally, he shrugged. “Sure… why not.”

Sevika grinned triumphantly, raising her beer in a mock toast. “Good. Now you can’t take it back.”

You stood there in shock, your heart racing, as Sevika shot you a sly look. “Surprise,” she muttered, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Sevika knelt before you, the vibrant sounds of All of Me played softly in the background, the violinist swaying to each note with practiced grace. Snow glistened around the edges of the path, blending with the blooming flowers of early spring in Central Park. The people you loved most—your parents, your grandpa, your cousins, and even Sevika’s closest friends from the band, Vi, Jinx, and Caitlyn—stood nearby, beaming with anticipation.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. Sevika, the tough, confident rockstar you’d fallen in love with, now looked at you with such softness it was almost overwhelming. Her fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, trembled slightly as she held the velvet box in her hands.

“Before you say anything,” she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, “let me talk.” She took a deep breath, her stormy gray eyes locking onto yours, and you saw the vulnerability she rarely let anyone else see.

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months,” she started, a small, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. “But in those months, you’ve turned my life upside down in the best way. Touring was always the dream for me—traveling from state to state, performing for thousands of people, living that wild rockstar life. But I didn’t realize how empty it all felt until I met you.”

Your tears began to spill over as she continued, her voice growing softer.

“Every stop on tour, you made it feel like home. Whether it was late-night takeout in crappy motels or those quiet moments backstage before a show, you reminded me that life isn’t just about the music or the fame—it’s about who you share it with.”

“This place,” Sevika said, glancing around at the snowy park and the familiar gates overlooking the water, “I knew it was special to you. Your mom told me this is where your dad proposed to her. And I wanted this moment to be just as meaningful for us.”

She took a steadying breath, her voice firm as she said, “I know what I want. And what I want is you—your laughter, your humor, the way you stayed up late at night with me on FaceTime, and the way you saw past my stubbornness and taught me how to love. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. So… will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stand still as you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Sevika slipped the ring onto your finger, her hands surprisingly gentle despite their strength. She stood, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a kiss that made your heart race.

“You’re mine now,” she murmured softly against your lips, her smirk returning as the confidence you loved so much settled back into place.

“Always,” you replied, smiling as your arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

As your family and friends crowded around to congratulate you, the violinist transitioned into a celebratory tune, and Sevika looked at you like you were her entire world. And in that moment, with the love of your life holding you close, you knew that this was only the beginning of your next adventure together.

— ran out of divider space :(

SURPRISE SHAWTY EXTRAS !

Three years had passed since you and Sevika tied the knot, and not a day went by where the memories of that perfect wedding didn’t make you smile. Everything about it had been uniquely you and Sevika—the all-black theme, the gothic elegance, and the sheer joy radiating from your friends and family as they celebrated your love. Famous faces mingled with relatives, everyone dressed to impress, and the night was filled with laughter, Jayce’s weird ass speech, dancing, and, of course, music. Sevika even performed a surprise set, which had everyone raving for weeks afterward.

After the honeymoon, you and Sevika bought into two homes in LA and New York, though the sunny LA house became you guys primary sanctuary. You continued thriving in your career as a model and influencer, while Sevika poured her heart and soul into Shattered Souls, the band only growing bigger with each passing year. Every album release brought in millions, and their relentless touring schedule kept Sevika busy, but it was clear she always prioritized you.

Life had been eventful not just for you but for your inner circle too. Not long after your wedding, Vi and Caitlyn also said their vows, sealing their love in a ceremony that was just as vibrant and wild as their personalities. Things took an unexpected yet joyous turn when Caitlyn announced she was pregnant. She and Vi had chosen a donor together, and though Cait took a temporary break from the band to focus on the pregnancy, she urged Vi to stay with Shattered Souls until the baby arrived.

When Caitlyn’s pregnancy began progressing, you decided to take a break from your own work to help out. Between the late-night cravings and Cait’s stubborn insistence on decorating the nursery herself, there was plenty to keep you occupied. Sevika often teased you about being "Mommy’s helper," but her eyes always sparkled with pride when she saw how much you loved caring for Cait.

Around this time, you started having more serious conversations with Sevika about starting a family of your own. It wasn’t exactly a new topic—Sevika had been talking about wanting kids ever since the engagement, casually dreaming about what your future family might look like. But now, it felt real. Sevika was patient and understanding, knowing you wanted everything to be just right.

For months, you searched for the perfect donor, determined to find someone who bore a strong resemblance to Sevika. It wasn’t just about looks; it was about creating a child that truly felt like a piece of both of you. You pored over profiles, cross-checked every detail, and refused to settle for anything less than perfection.

Sevika, as always, supported your every decision. Whenever she caught you deep in thought, scrolling through potential donors, she’d come up behind you, rest her chin on your shoulder, and say, “We’ll find them. Our kid’s gonna be amazing, just like you.” Her unwavering confidence made you believe it too.

The two of you spent countless nights dreaming about the future. Sevika talked about teaching your kid to play guitar, how they’d grow up surrounded by music and love. She joked about how they’d have to deal with two moms who would fiercely embarrass them at every school recital or sports game. You laughed, imagining the chaos, but deep down, the idea of starting a family with Sevika made your heart ache in the best way.

After weeks of searching, you finally found him—the perfect donor. He had Sevika’s striking features: her sharp nose, deep skin tone, tall and athletic build, and a clean bill of health that only made the decision easier. Everything about him mirrored Sevika in the best way, and without hesitation, you jumped at the opportunity. The next step was IVF, a process you were both equally nervous and excited about. Now came the hardest part—waiting.

To pass the time, you threw yourself into helping Caitlyn with her nursery. From painting the walls in a soft pastel blue to assembling cribs and organizing baby clothes, you and Cait poured all your energy into making the space perfect. Caitlyn often joked that you were acting more like a second mom than a helper, but you didn’t mind—it kept your hands busy and your mind occupied. By the time the few weeks of waiting were up, the nursery was complete, right down to the tiniest detail.

Then the day came. You sat on the toilet in your bathroom, staring at the Clearblue pregnancy test in your hand, willing yourself to stay calm. Sevika stood a few feet away, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. She was usually the picture of composure, but the anticipation had her just as wound up as you were. “How long does this thing take?” she muttered, running a hand through her short hair for the third time.

“It’ll beep when it’s ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seconds felt like hours, but then—beep.

Your heart raced as you looked down at the little screen. There it was, clear as day: Pregnant.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, the realization washing over you like a wave. Then, louder, “OH MY GOD, I’M PREGNANT!”

You jumped to your feet, holding the test up for Sevika to see. Her eyes widened as she stepped closer, taking it from your hands to double-check. When the word registered, a wide grin broke across her face.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “We’re gonna have a baby…”

The two of you hugged tightly, your emotions spilling over in laughter and tears. Sevika’s strong arms held you close as she kissed your temple. “We’re gonna be awesome parents,” you said, your voice shaking with happiness.

“Damn right we are,” Sevika replied, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom. And I’ll—well, I’ll try not to mess the kid up too much.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “You? Mess them up? Sev, you’re going to be their hero.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re already mine.”

That moment felt like the start of something magical, the first step into a whole new chapter of your lives. Together, you were ready to take it on, one step at a time.

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl @nanajustnana-a

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woozinhos · 1 day ago

Note

heyy gorgeous 🎀

Could I request angry sex with dokyeom where the reader is overwhelmed

With a lots of fluffffffff💗

Feel free to ignore if uncomfortable 😚😚🫶🏻

Notes: back to writing hope you enjoy guys hehe

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Smut below the cut

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

Dokyeom was furious. He had seen you talking to another guy, laughing and flirting like you had forgotten all about him. The jealousy and possessiveness had taken over him, and he couldn't hold back his anger anymore. He cornered you in the bedroom, his eyes dark with fury.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing. Dokyeom's expression was cold and stern, a complete contrast to his usual cheerful demeanor. He took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing as he waited for your answer.

"Answer me," he said through gritted teeth. "Who was he?" You swallowed hard, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to find the words to explain. "He's just a friend," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "We were just talking, that's all." Dokyeom's jaw clenched, his anger not abating in the slightest.

"Just a friend, huh?" he repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You were laughing and flirting with him like you were enjoying his company." Dokyeom took another step closer, closing the distance between you until you were backed up against the wall. He towered over you, his body radiating a possessive energy.

"I don't like seeing you talk to other guys like that," he growled, his hands resting on either side of your head, trapping you in place. "You're mine. I don't want anyone else touching you or making you laugh like that." Dokyeom's hand moved from the wall to your ass, his grip tight and possessive as he pulled you flush against him.

"You belong to me," he repeated, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to make you feel the way I do." Dokyeom's lips attacked your neck with a fervor, his teeth and tongue working overtime to leave marks on your skin. He was claiming you, marking you as his own in the most primal way possible.

"Mine," he repeated between kisses, his hands roaming over your body as he pressed himself against you. "You're mine to touch, to taste, to do whatever I want with." Dokyeom's words were rough and possessive, but there was a hint of vulnerability beneath them.

"I'll never let anyone else touch you like this," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he continued to kiss and bite at your neck. "No one else can make you feel the way I do. No one can give you the pleasure that I can." You let out a soft gasp as Dokyeom's hands continued to explore your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Dokyeom," you said, your voice shaky with desire. "I don't want anyone else. I only want you." Dokyeom's grip on you tightened, a mixture of relief and possessiveness washing over him at your words.

"Good," he said, his voice a low growl. "Because I won't let anyone else have you. You're mine to take care of, mine to protect, mine to satisfy." He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. Dokyeom pushed you back onto the bed, following you down and covering your body with his own. He pinned you beneath him, his hands roaming over your body as he began to kiss and nibble at your ear.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll never forget who you belong to." Dokyeom's hands quickly found the hem of your dress, and he tugged it off with a swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought. He took a moment to admire your now-bare body, his eyes roaming over your skin with a hungry look.

"Beautiful," he said again, his voice hoarse with desire. "So beautiful and all mine." Dokyeom's hands continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more urgent and possessive. He ran his hands up your thighs, squeezing and massaging them as he settled himself between your legs.

"I need you," he whispered, his lips trailing down your collarbone and over your chest. "I need to feel you, to be inside you." Dokyeom's lips reached your breasts, and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it as his hands continued to explore your body. His other hand moved down between your legs, teasing and rubbing you through your underwear.

"So wet for me already," he groaned, his voice thick with need. "You're so ready for me." Dokyeom's fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, finding your sensitive clit and starting to circle it with practiced ease. He watched your reactions intently, his eyes dark with desire as he continued to pleasure you. "You like that, don't you?" he said, his voice a low growl. "You like it when I touch you like this."

"Yes," you gasped out, your back arching off the bed as Dokyeom's fingers worked their magic. "I love it. I love it when you touch me." Dokyeom pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he spoke.

"I'm going to take you now," he said, his voice low and authoritative. "And I'm going to make you scream my name." He quickly discarded his own clothes, leaving him completely bare before you. His body was toned and muscular, a perfect reflection of his athletic nature. He leaned back down, covering your body with his own once again.

"You're mine," he whispered again, his lips against your ear. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it." Dokyeom pushed into you with a sudden, powerful thrust, filling you completely in one swift motion. He groaned at the feeling of being inside you, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sensation.

"You feel so good," he said through gritted teeth, starting to move against you with slow, deliberate strokes. "So tight and perfect for me." Dokyeom's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he drove himself into you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he took you with a primal intensity.

"You're mine," he growled again, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. "No one else will ever have you like this. You belong to me, body and soul." Every moan that escaped your lips sent a thrill through Dokyeom, spurring him on to take you harder and faster. He could feel your nails digging into his back, your body responding to his every movement.

"That's it," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel." Dokyeom's grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back and exposing your neck to him. He bit down on the sensitive skin there, marking you once again as his own.

"You're mine to take," he said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his own release. "And I'll do whatever I want to you, whenever I want." Dokyeom's moans mingled with yours, his breathing becoming ragged as he continued to claim you. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a possessive intensity. "I'm going to come," he gasped out, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate. "And I want you to come with me. Come for me, baby."

"You're the only one who can make me feel this way," Dokyeom said, his voice rough with desire. "The only one who can make me lose control like this. You're the only one who can take all of me and make me feel so damn good." He thrust into you harder, his body tensing as he approached his peak.

"And I'm going to fill you up," he continued, his words a mix of possessiveness and desperation. "I'm going to fill you with my cum and claim you from the inside out." Dokyeom's words pushed you over the edge, and you felt your own orgasm building deep within you. His thrusts grew more frantic, his grip on your hair tightening as he felt your body begin to quiver beneath him.

"That's it," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Come for me, baby. Come on my cock." Dokyeom let out a loud, guttural moan as he came, his body shuddering as he released himself inside you. He continued to thrust into you, his movements slowing as he rode out his orgasm, filling you with his seed.

"Fuck," he groaned, collapsing on top of you as he tried to catch his breath. "Hope you’ve learnt your lesson." Dokyeom's primal intensity faded away as he came down from his orgasm, leaving him in a state of contentment and cuddly affection. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and nuzzling his face into your neck.

"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. "I love you so much." Dokyeom continued to hold you tightly, his arms wrapped around you in a warm, protective embrace. He planted soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, occasionally whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"I don't want to let go," he said, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're my everything, and I just want to hold you like this forever." Dokyeom continued to kiss your face, his lips trailing over your cheeks and forehead as he checked in on you. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I wasn't too rough with you, was I?"

"No, you weren't too rough," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "You were perfect, as always." Dokyeom smiled at your words, his heart swelling with affection for you. "Good," he said, his voice filled with relief. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't hurt you. You mean everything to me.” Dokyeom's expression darkened slightly as he continued to hold you close.

"Promise me something," he said, his voice firm. "Promise me that you'll never talk to any other guys again. You're mine, and I don't want anyone else trying to take you away from me."

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hannieoftheyear · 2 days ago

Text

we're all stardust (x.mh)

During the day, he's the one you're supposed to be against, who you have to be better than. But in the darkness, when the sun sets and there's no one to witness but the moon and the stars, every year you find yourself in his arms.

⋆ ✧˖* pairing: minghao x gn!reader

⋆ ✧˖* w.c: 5,9k

⋆ ✧˖* genre: researchers au, rivalry, angst, smut. MDNI.

🎧: cold love — the8, hai cheng — the8

⋆ ✧˖* warnings: kissing, jealousy, unprotected sex, open ending. not really proofread.

⋆ ✧˖* note: it's my first writing a gender neutral reader, i'd really appreciate if you let me know if there are any mistakes :)

⋆ ✧˖* disclaimer! i know nothing about congresses or research groups, so i tried to make it as vague as possible, but i apologize if it makes very little sense

hope you like this! I'd love to read your thoughts ♥︎

Dew falls softly on the cloudy evening, the surprisingly empty dock at the beach blurred completely by the fog as the sun sets on the horizon. The soft sound of the waves reaching the shore eases the thoughts that have been tormenting you since the morning.

Every year is identical to the one before, and every night, you find yourself in the exact same spot, yearning for the calmness of the place to help you clear your mind.

The morning presentation haunts your every thought, the little mistakes made omnipresent as always, refusing to spare you a moment of peace.

A few steps echo behind you, slow but determined, and even if you choose not to turn around, there’s no denying that’s the same person whose face is burned at the back of your mind, ever present in the memories causing you trouble.

Minghao is a formidable researcher, intelligent as they come, with an enviable special talent for public speaking. A partner that everyone wants on their team and someone who no one wants to be against.

The first time you saw him, all those years ago, your first congress, and his second one, he walked around, leaving everyone starstruck on his way. Not particularly because of his looks, even if they’re an undeniable help, but it was his way with words, capable of convincing anyone listening of the theory of his research.

Smart, handsome, part of an award-winning research group. You were undeniably under his spell too.

But that first impression was short-lived. Days later, when it was your dreaded turn to defend the research you’ve been working on for over a year, that fantasy shattered right in front of your eyes as he, most elegantly, destroyed your hypothesis in a few sentences.

Your peers assured you that it was classical of that particular group, that it had nothing to do with you. They cheered you on all afternoon, even if they pitied you to some degree, and it was okay. You only had one night left at that too fancy hotel for the coveted congress you fought so hard to enter.

That night, at the same spot you're finding yourself at every year, you met him.

As you hugged your legs to your chest, planning a way to knock it out of the park the following year, he sat next to you, calm as he always was.

“You’re good.” He said, with the same truth telling tone he used to contradict your every point earlier that day.

“Thanks.” The crescent moon, up in the sky and beautiful as ever, provided with little moonlight, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of the side of his face, sharp as it was during the day, but with no trace of arrogance.

“I hope I wasn’t so harsh.” A glimmer of a smile appeared on the side of his mouth, timid and friendly, but it disappeared as his eyes caught yours.

“Not at all. You just demolished an entire year's worth of work in ten minutes.” You sounded hurt, like what he did was personal, which you knew it wasn’t, but at that hour of the night, you had no energy left to pretend.

“Sometimes we have to do that. We do what we need to win the funds.” His honesty caught you off guard, and the confession caused your anger to peak for a split second. But that’s what had to be done, and you knew it.

“Good to know I was a close competitor.” You found it in you to joke, and the chuckle he let out was a relief.

“Honestly, it was between yours and mine.” He replied frankly, made it impossible not to believe him.

Not much talking was done that night, the both of you enjoying the quietness after a long day of endless talking.

The following year, you were ready. You thought of every possible rebuttal, prepared every answer, practiced your speech double the times. You weren’t going to let your hard work get trashed in front of your colleagues again. Not by anyone. Not by him.

It was the way for you to prove yourself as a respectable investigator. Winning the research funds for your institute was the most important duty that week. And maybe catching the look in Minghao's face as you answered his every critique confidently.

That first day, when your name got sorted to go first, you knew you had won. Your presentation went as smoothly as it could possibly go, maybe with a stutter or two, but nothing to set your confidence back. And Minghao tried. Him and his team asked question after question, but you were two steps ahead. Regardless, he didn’t look appalled nor defeated. No. He was amused, a knowing smirk appearing as you answered his last question, looking him right in the eyes.

Those eyes hunted you until the sun fell from the sky, and you sat on the dock, admiring the stars that the city hides.

He found you again. Or maybe you went there hoping he'd show up. But there you were, sitting beside each other again, in the cold of the cloudless night, in a comfortable silence that both relieved and scared you.

“Do you usually come sit here?” Your voice sounded louder than expected.

“Mostly when I need a bit of peace. After days like today, for example.” Something in the calmness of his voice made you feel safe. Like that wasn’t the same man threatening the future of your investigation hours before.

“I like that the stars are visible here.” You settled on replying, with a slight fear of annoying Minghao, but deep down, knowing he wouldn’t be there if he minded your presence. “Too much light contamination in the city to appreciate them.”

“Sometimes, I sit here and count them. It’s really good to take your mind off something.” He agreed in his own way.

And that night, you realized you two were much more alike than you thought. He seemed ruthless on the stand, with the complicated vocabulary he used in his speech, and the way he twisted his questions to make it almost impossible to answer without sounding like an idiot, could frighten even the oldest colleague in your team.

But as you spent another night with him, very few words exchanged, giving a whole new meaning to silence, you felt like you were beginning to understand him. The constant murmur that surrounds every minute of the congress and the false smiles that made your mouth ache at the end of the day, it all affected him the same way it affected you. If not, he wouldn’t be seeking a safe place in the night, in the relaxing sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, in the cold breeze sweeping the loose sand on the beach.

That year, your institute won the research funds for the first time in years, and he was the first person to congratulate you.

The first time he kissed you, you had been expecting it all week.

It was a particularly hard year. Every research presented had huge potential, and not even Minghao’s team’s antics managed to cause a big enough commotion.

You and Minghao found yourselves sitting at the dock every night, restless, overthinking, attempting to clear your minds, and accepting that maybe neither of you was going to win that year.

That last night, after the winner was announced, and everyone either went out to celebrate or went to sleep already planning how to be better the following year, you were resting against the unreliable wood railing on the dock, somehow not sad because of the defeat, but rather glad that the week was finally over.

The sun hadn’t set yet, letting you see him as he walked over to your spot, with a light smile on his face.

“You look happy for someone who lost.” After the days you had been through together, your interactions had become friendlier. You allowed yourself to joke more often, and he showed his smile at every one of them.

“You know I don’t care about winning. They deserved it.” He rested his hip against the railing in front of you.

His ability to be relaxed even after losing rose to be the one thing you envied him the most for. Public speaking, it took practice, broad vocabulary, you learn words every day, but rising above what affected you, it was nearly impossible.

“I’m sure you’re already planning what to do next year.” The golden light as the sun began to set gave a softness to the features on his face that you had never noticed until then.

“I don’t know if I’m coming next year.” The disappointment you felt as his words reached your side of the dock couldn’t be described. You’d never admit it was because you longed to see him every year.

“They’d be stupid not to invite you.” You couldn’t even imagine the idea of him missing the year’s event.

“It’s not that.” He played with the hem of his sweater as if for the first time in his life, he was having trouble finding the right words to say. “I’m thinking of taking a few months to rest. I love what I do, but the past years wore me out.”

“You should do it.” You stated as a reply, not even a second later. Not because if he didn’t show up, it meant you had a bigger chance at winning, but because, once again, you understood him.

“Don’t encourage me only so you can win next year.” He stepped off the railing, walking towards you with a growing smirk.

You recognized the sarcasm in his tone but still rushed to continue.

“I beat you once, I can do it again. I don’t need you to be absent to win.” He chuckled, now standing in front of you, leaning into his hand beside yours on the railing. “But I mean it, whatever first draft hypothesis that’s written in your notes can wait, your wellbeing can’t.”

“Aw, you care about my wellbeing.” The few inches that separated your bodies made it impossible for you not to react to his teasing, and the smell of his cologne surrounding you intensified everything.

“I can’t have a lousy opponent.” Your eyes rolled in an attempt to appear like you didn’t care. But he knew better.

“You’ll have to get ready for when I return because I won't be holding back.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, convinced he had you where he wanted. Maybe he did.

“You've been holding back this whole time?” Deep down, you knew what you wanted. But his brain remained a mystery, leaving you expecting his next move.

“I never held back when being against you.” Teasing you with his honesty had become normal for him.

“Believe me, I know.” Competing with him gave you the drive to improve, whether you cared to admit it or not. “Your team’s still going to harass me with terrible questions, though.”

“It’s just one year, love, don’t miss me too much.” He said as he moved his hand closer to your waist.

He trapped you against the railing, both of your weights resting against the creaky wood. And from one moment to another, the piece where you’d been standing against that whole time broke and fell down into the waves below.

You’re sure you screamed, convinced you’d be drenched from head to toe in an instant, but Minghao got a hold of your waist and secured you in his arms.

When you realized what had happened, you were staring into his dark eyes, sun fully set, leaving the moon to guard you, and his face so close to yours that the only breeze you felt was his rushed breath against your skin.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you goodbye?” He asked, his face just barely moving away so he could see your reaction.

He was still holding you, like you could've vanished if he didn’t stay with his arms around you. You refused to stand up straight, relishing in the feel of being surrounded by him. And you didn’t hesitate for a second to nod at his request.

Minghao’s plump lips first touched yours timidly, but as one of your hands sneaked behind his neck and held him there, he took more initiative. He pressed harder against you, mouth moving over yours as his hands began to wander around your back.

Neither of you cared about the temperatures dropping or about the pending question of what this would mean to the both of you. The only thing that mattered in that moment was your bodies tangled together, mouths moving deliberately, high on the other's sighs, and hands keeping your chests flushed.

It's unknown for how long you two stayed there, possibly the longest goodbye ever in the history of man kind.

It was the strong cold wind that separated your poor-clothed and hot bodies. The dreaded farewell was uncertain, feelings and thoughts remaining undisclosed due to the fleetness of your relationship.

The stars on the sky were the only witnesses to the two rivals becoming one, a shared connection no one was aware of. In the dark of the night, the blue moonlight could conceal what didn’t want to be seen and your late nights together that were implicitly forbidden to be shared.

The year he returned, two years after that kiss that never left your mind, it was like he came back with three times the will to win. A research like no other, and a look in his eyes that didn’t hide his newfound drive.

That year, you can say you truly didn’t care about winning, your needs blurred by his presence. Everyone knew who was going to take the funds home, your whole team, his team, and everyone you talked to. It was a given.

Minghao was the talk of the week. The ruthless mastermind was back to prove himself. Smarter, colder, and somehow more handsome, he took the stand as if he had already won, presented the research that he started after his break, and answered every question with a growing smirk.

You went just after him, already defeated, a full circle moment after your first time. And when his eyes landed on you, you expected to receive a serious look, not knowing what happened in the time you hadn’t seen each other. But the millisecond he registered it was you in front of him, the smile you were growing to love showed up on his face.

It was a rushed reunion. So many more people had joined the congress in the two years before, so the organizers were rushing him to return to his seat and pressing you to stand on the stage quickly. You barely had time to greet each other with teeth showing smiles before you got separated.

During that week, he never showed up at the dock, probably being kept hostage by his colleagues to talk to everyone at the dinner parties that you always skipped.

It felt too lonely without him out there, even more so than the year he missed the congress. Knowing he was there, so close, yet so far, was worse than losing. Deep down, you hoped he wanted to be alone with you just as much as you.

But you knew those feelings were wrong to have. What feelings could you possibly have for someone who you saw once a year for a few hours? His life outside of the congress was a mystery to you, just as yours was a mystery to him.

That final day, after a week of non-stop talking to other people, he finally sat down by your side on the damp dock.

You were about to give up. After waiting and waiting, you had come to the conclusion that he simply didn’t want to see you.

But he did. And he came to you.

“I heard your friend won the funds last year.” Were the first words he uttered to you.

“No one came even close.” You forced yourself to look ahead, not wanting to look at him and feel something you shouldn’t.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here.” He said quietly, a ruffling sound coming from his side overpowering the strong wind’s noise.

“I came here every day.” You weren’t mad, but your brain was only capable of coming up with short responses. Those five words meant so much more. You hoped he'd understand them.

“I wanted to too, but they were dragging me to all those dinners.” It was nice hearing that, even if deep down you had already figured out why he wasn’t showing up.

The neurons in your brain weren’t connecting properly, failing to deliver a response to his honest explanation. Were you sure what you wanted to say to him? Was there even something to say?

“How was your break?” You’ve never asked personal questions before that, fearing you might cross the imaginary line you’d drawn.

“Boring.” He chuckled. “I wanted to work, but they basically locked me out of the institute.”

They hadn't fixed the broken railing on the dock, but a new lamppost lit up your spot almost frighteningly well, leaving your bodies out in the open for anyone to see.

“That was nice of them.” You could feel his eyes drilling holes on the side of your face. “You’re too stubborn.”

“You're one to talk.” Your dynamics luckily hadn’t changed, encouraging you to have a little hope.

You chuckled back in response but uttered no witty reply. For the first time in all the years you had known each other, the suffocating silence was uncomfortable.

The moon stared down at you, and you could only stare back, hoping that looking at the peaceful night sky might give you some answers.

“Isn’t it crazy that the moon was made from a part of earth?”

As you both were staring at the stars, avoiding one another, the question left your mouth before you could even stop it.

“Everything we see from here is made of the same elements.” There was a tone underneath his calmness that drove your head to turn to him.

“Yeah, that’s true,” When he connected his eyes with yours, you instinctively looked away, “but the moon was formed after the impact, and it still stayed after.”

By that point, you had no idea what you were saying, just blurting out words in hopes of filling the silence. You needed him to say what you longed for. You needed to know if what you were feeling at that moment, he felt too.

“Can we not do that.” You’ve never heard Minghao being mad before that moment, but as your whole body got covered in goosebumps, you were almost afraid of what he meant by that.

“Do what?” Against your will, you found yourself analyzing his expression.

“Being vague.” He said shortly.

“You’re not being very expressive either.” You sneered back, not angry but definitely bothered. He sighed deeply as you had caught him in his hypocrisy.

He wanted you to be expressive with what you wanted to say, but was he ready to hear how his lips were the only thing you were thinking about? How your will to even go to the congress that year came solely because you were going to see him again?

“Do you remember that night?” He asked quietly, interrupting your rambling mind by voicing out exactly what was troubling you, as if he could read your thoughts. He didn’t have to expatiate on what night he was referring to for you to know.

“The night we both lost?” You answered to torture him a bit, even if you were sure he knew you remembered.

“Yeah,” he said after a few seconds of thought, “I forgot about that, but yeah, that happened too.”

It was an oddly warm night, not even the morning rain or the breeze running across the beach could do something to lower the temperatures. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was your body heating up at the mention of that night, or Minghao's body so close to you again, but the red on your cheeks was noticeable from miles away.

“Why do you ask?” His mind was always a wonder. When he uttered his thoughts out to you, it was easy to understand him, but the inner workings of his brain were something out of this world.

“Do you still think about it?” You weren't exactly shocked by the question, but you still lost your breath for a second. “I gotta make sure I'm not the only one.”

The conversation after Minghao’s semi-confession became a blur. Your mouth stopped asking permission from your brain to come out with words, and your skin ached to feel his against you.

Moment after moment, step after step, between breathy kisses and longing touches, you stumbled into your lifeless hotel room, crossed the door with tangled limbs and flying pieces of clothing. Not bothered to turn on the lights, the open window provided with light-blue moonlight to burn the sight of Minghao’s naked body on your memory forever.

You didn’t expect it to happen again the following year. It was fine for you if it only happened once, but as you walked over to his sitting body on your claimed spot, you knew. You both tried to nonchalantly talk as always, but your attention was placed on his lips moving, on his hands supporting the weight of his body, on his overly flirty tone. It was inevitable to end up between his arms again.

The friendly competition continued. Your group would win, then the next year his did. Nothing really changed, except the recurring visits to each other’s bed at night, the late-night conversations now regularly held in between the sheets, his arm under your neck and yours around his naked torso.

Even if in the mornings you’d wake up alone in your bed, or sneak out before the sun rises if you ended up in his, you had an unspoken agreement that it shouldn’t slip into your daily lives. You had to pretend your skin hadn’t been permanently affected by his touch, control your lingering glances, and limit the times you said his name to your colleagues.

As you feel the warmth of his body sitting by your side, you can only think of him on top of you, his lips kissing every inch of skin they can reach as he presses into you. But soon, you remember why you were sitting alone for longer than usual at the dock, and everything turns a slight red shade.

“Didn’t think you’d come today.” You coldly say, failing to mask your jealousy.

You know you have no right to feel a claim over him. Why should you? You’ve never talked about your relationship beyond that kiss, and no one else knows about your recurrent encounters. It’s normal for other people to flirt with him, and you shouldn’t get mad if he flirts back.

“I wouldn’t miss my second favorite time of the day.” Minghao replies like he knows what’s on your mind.

“What would be the first?” You dare looking to your side and find his eyes on you, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Seeing your face after I finish my presentations.” You chuckle instantly as he finishes those words, a vague thought that he’s flirting with you quickly getting shut down.

“I’m sure there are a lot more faces you’d rather look at.” If he hadn’t caught on to your jealousy by now, then you just blurted out exactly what was needed for him to.

His fingers tumble over yours, electrifying grazes erupting goosebumps from your hands up until the hair growing behind your neck.

“Didn’t take you as the possessive type.” He teases, and you take the bait.

It comes to a point where it’s impossible to hide what’s on your mind from him, so being honest is the best way to get what you want.

“I’m not possessive,” you snap your hand away from his, and you catch his eyes ready to tease again, “and I’m not jealous either. I just… notice what you do and who you do it with.”

“So, if you’re mad, I’m guessing it’s because you disliked it.”

“I’m not mad.” You can’t be mad. “I come here to relax, can we not.”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” In a perfect world, you’d believe his disappointed tone was because of you and not your arrangement. If that’s what’s it called.

“I've just been doing other things.” Trying to shake him off your head. Trying to see if you could resist his pull. “You're one to talk. You haven’t been coming here.”

It's weird to talk about your spot like it’s a ritual between you two. Maybe it is.

“I came every day, just later. You need to be more patient.”

“What? So, I’m just supposed to wait for you until you decide to show up?” Your calm tone evaporates by the end of the sentence, finishing with more anger than you'd wanted to show.

“If you wanted to see me alone, then yes.”

“Wow.” His audacity leaves you speechless, barely a cough of air on your lungs. “You’re mistaken if you think everything I do here revolves around you.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” His eyes soften as he tries to correct himself.

“Well, that's how it came out.” A deep breath is all you need to calm down and look him in the eyes. “The most important thing for me here is my work, my investigations, and my team. If your perception of me is any different than that, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

The world around you becomes silent just in time for you to hear his whisper.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything.” The needy part of you begs to give in to him. But the rational part screams at you to turn away, that you can’t give into someone who thinks of you that way. “You're the most intelligent person here. Every year.”

How dumb you are. Dumb enough to fall again.

You began to stand up some time in your ramble, and his hold on your hand brings you back to earth. You want to run away from him, your feet ready to do so, but his soft eyes and his fingers caressing the back of your hand erode the edges of the decision-making part of your brain.

“You can't fix everything by touching me.” It’s merely a way to let it go for a while, a temporary band aid that only hides the issue and doesn’t heal it.

“I’m being selfish.”

He brings your body to his, so close that his chest heaving makes contact with yours, and his face is all you can see. His hands wrap around your waist just like they’ve done countless times, so naturally that you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

Time stops as your eyes catch his, a flash of a moment of doubt before you give in and close the short distance between your lips.

Neither of you ever dare to speak up about the affair that’s been going on for years, the pushing and pulling of competing against one another and then falling into the other's arms. Those feelings only come to light when no one’s to witness, when your lips dance synchronized and your hands roam each other's body with a need that can only be seen by the sea and the stars.

This late at night, the way to the hotel and up to one of your floors is always empty, like a desert away from the oasis you just left behind. Minghao leads you to his bedroom this time, his hand not letting go of yours during the short walk away from the elevator.

Whatever you had planned to tell him falls down your priority list as he opens his door and traps you against the nearest wall. His plump lips chase yours, continuing what you were doing at the dock before deciding the spot wasn’t secure enough for what the kiss was becoming.

Your clothes fall to the ground seamlessly, leaving you bare only for his touch to feel. His fingers graze and tease every part of you he knows will have you ready for him, and you sigh into his mouth at every one of them.

Getting his clothes off takes more effort from your part, as he refuses to get his hands away from you. His skin that you craved the entire day to touch is finally at your reach, hot against the cold air coming in from his open window.

Admit it or not, you’ve been ready for him to take you since the day you arrived. So, when your bodies move towards his bed and the soft sheets pillow your back, when he slots between your open legs, looking down at your body with indiscreet hunger, you don’t need preparation for him to slide in.

Minghao stretches you open slowly, letting you feel everything as he makes his way inside of you. The drive of his hips against yours makes of you a moaning mess, hitting every spot that causes your legs to tremble like it’s his second nature.

His sensual, deliberate thrusts make your body react in ways only he is capable of. He’s inside you, but you crave more, need more of him. Your hands find their way up to his neck and push him down so his lips meet yours once again, but his grunts and your sounds make it impossible for them to connect for more than a second, leaving you moaning into his mouth as he reaches that point that has you mumbling nonsense, mind blurred by the pleasure.

He might be babbling something too, his mouth moving over to your ear telling you that much, but you hear none of it. Every one of your senses has stopped doing what they’re supposed to, their job now solely focused on pulling the stars off the sky and into the hotel's bedroom ceiling.

Minghao's thrusts become less calculated, more erratic, and you close your eyes as your legs wrap around his waist as tight as possible to help him steady and push him further inside.

The time passed could be something between five minutes and two hours, as when you’re with him you’re somewhere else where time isn’t a thing. But there's one thing you’re sure of. As his hands grope every bit of skin of your chest he wishes to, and your eyes open to find his already analyzing your every feature, the realization that your connection with him is a one in a lifetime occurrence hits you unexpectedly like a crash.

But you can’t develop on that thought, not when Minghao speeds up, drilling into you as he chases his own orgasm. He pounds hard, determined to get you to cum with him, but you can’t help to think there’s something more to it. Something more in the way his eyes refuse to leave yours, in the way his hands caress the sides of your chest with more care.

Sometime between his touch, your thoughts, and his thrusts, something inside you snapped, white flooding your eyes and ears as you come around Minghao, tightening around him, making his hips falter.

You don’t want him to pull out, yearning for him to stay inside you forever if that meant you’d never have to leave his bedroom and pretend you two have no relationship past being competing colleagues. But that foolish wish can never be fulfilled, and your dream remains unspoken as he thrusts for the last time before pulling out of you and painting your stomach white.

After lazily cleaning up, naked under the white sheets, you become a tangled mess once again, staring at nothing as the breeze coming from the window fills the silence.

“Do you think we matter?” Your thoughts push you to ask. “As in, what we do in our lifetimes.”

Minghao takes a few seconds to answer, his hand drawing circles on your side never stopping. “I think we, what we do, and our work all matters for us right now. But in the entire universe, considering the thousands of planets and millions and millions of years of history, we don’t.”

“Are we really just a speck in time? That would make our lives completely meaningless.”

If nothing matters, why do you have to hide? Why does your life revolve around things that seem much simpler when taking into account the entire world?

“I don’t think of it that way.” He disagrees calmly, but not to argue with you. Only on the stand you’re forced to fight for your thoughts, but if there’s no one listening beside you two, and maybe one lonely bird flying past the window, you’ve never felt the need to prove your point to the other. “I think we’re part of something bigger than we can ever imagine.”

“Are you saying we could be connected to something at the other end of the universe? Even if it’s billions of lights years away?”

“Of course.” You chuckle at his quick answer, looking up at him from his chest, and he lowers his chin to be able to look at you.

“Explain it to me.” It seems to be a recurrent thought in his mind, and with your love for his interpretations, and a want to understand his train of thought, you can’t repress the need to hear him talk about it.

“Think of it this way.” He starts, now brushing your hair away from your face so nothing stands in the way of your connected eyes. “Everything we know came from the explosion that originated the universe, that means that, at one point, every object in space was close to the other, made from the same elements, and only after millions of years they grew apart.”

“A poet might say that we’re all made of stardust.” You reply in a breathy chuckle, not knowing what to add to such a beautiful explanation.

“They’d be right.”

Silence envelops you once again, the crickets hidden outside making an appearance. There are so many questions hanging in the air waiting to be asked, but you can’t bring yourself to. Minghao’s chest heaves under your ear, calmly reminding you of his presence.

He falls fast asleep under you, never letting go of his grip around your waist. But too much is happening inside your mind to relax and fall asleep with him.

The stars watch you from outside the window, the only witnesses of every part of your relationship with Minghao. There’s a choice to be made. Does it matter? Or is everything meaningless in the long run?

But you can’t afford to think like that. Your life, your work, the work everyone around you does and lives to do, that’s what’s important. And even if he believes in what he said earlier, Minghao knows it, too. That’s why neither of you dare to change your current situation.

You could not get up as the sun rises. You could stay in bed with him. You could let his warmth drift you off to sleep. You could wake up in his arms and tell him every thought that has passed through your mind while he slept soundly. You could ask him about his true feelings regarding your relationship and you. You could do so much more than stay still in bed waiting for a sign in the night sky to guide you.

note: i just wanted to say, for what it's worth, that when i started writing this story, i didn't have an ending planned. So, i as i approached the end, it became so hard to write that i got stuck for weeks. An open somehow ending felt right.

thank you for reading <3 i'd love to hear your thoughts!

#minghao au #kvanity #seventeen au #svt au #minghao angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #minghao smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #minghao x reader #minghao imagine

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