#but also try to strangle each other
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hello everyone I have tiny platonic max and george brainworms so here you go! 3k of the most unorganized universe ever LOL. gen, max POV, george POV, alex POV, christian POV, and an extremely brief nico POV. this is kind of in chronological order? it's little snapshots, don't think too hard about it.
"George."
Max shoves at his shoulder, hissing his name through his teeth. They both hate running, which means it's a team effort. It's also a terrible start to their day, considering waking each other up feels like more of a high pressure sport than the actual driving.
"Wake up."
He shoves again, and George throws an arm out, halfheartedly smacking him in the face.
"I'm up, I'm up. Christ, you're as graceful as a fucking tractor."
"At least I'm consistent."
"Consistently dickish."
George slides off his futon, fumbling for his water next to the bed while Max waits impatiently. He takes his time, and Max is sure that he's only doing it to be an annoyance.
"Your shoe is untied."
"No it's not."
George lowers the bottle, scowling.
"It literally is, I'm looking right at it."
Max is pointedly not looking at it.
"I don't see it."
"Because you're not looking—"
------
George has never hated anyone as much as he hates Max. Mostly because Max eats four eggs in a single sitting, has the most dorkish reading glasses he's ever seen, snores like a freight train, and is one of the greatest drivers he knows.
There are very few good qualities about him, limited to his relentless dedication to both of their training, his willingness to carry inside all the grocery bags in one trip, and his sharp eye for contracts. George is better with sponsors, so whenever they have new terms and conditions it usually eats up all of their limited spare time, taking highlighters to paper packets they'd printed out at the library that stack higher than their arms.
It's what they're currently doing now as they eat their way through an entire bag of grapes. Max is squinting down at a reworked section of George's contract, brows furrowed, and George has been attacking a predatory sponsor offer for Max with as much red ink as he can.
It seems like the perfect moment to bring it up.
"Alex is coming to London."
Max blinks, eyes still glued to the contract.
"Okay."
George crosses out another line, adding four question marks above it.
"He needs somewhere to stay."
"Is he bringing his own futon or are you both sharing? I'm not giving up mine."
That... was easier than he thought. He's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth— if Max has any issues, he's not voicing them. And Max always voices his issues.
Max looks up, properly confused as George's words actually register.
"Wait, he's not emancipated? Is he?"
George makes a face, rolling his pen across the table.
"No, his family is fine. He just needs to be closer to karting."
Max narrows his eyes, looking at George suspiciously. The effect is somewhat ruined by his giant glasses.
"And you're not going to fuck on the futon?"
George's eyes go so wide he worries briefly they'll pop out of his skull, right before he lunges out of his chair and tackles Max to the floor.
"No, you stupid git, we're not going to— what is wrong with you?"
He tries to whack at Max's head, but Max gets his knees up between them, bracing himself in a familiar way that George has learned means he's either going to get a foot in the gut or a headbutt so hard he see stars. Max chooses the foot.
"Oof—!"
George rolls off of him, scrambling a few feet to get a pillow off of the couch before wheeling back around, holding it over his head threateningly.
"Don't do it."
Max is still sitting on the floor, but George knows better than to think it's surrender— he has no issues trying to take him out at the knees, and he has a disturbingly good success rate.
He's frowning, hair rumpled.
"You better not do shitty handjobs either, unless he is bringing in enough rent to move us into two bedrooms instead of one. I don't want to listen to it."
"Max!"
George doesn't shriek, but it's close enough, swinging the pillow down as Max rockets to his feet, darting around to put the kitchen table between them.
"It is fair!"
"We aren't fucking!"
"Not yet."
He sighs, lowering the pillow. Max is doing the dumb thing where he doesn't say what he actually means, despite generally being about as blunt as a sledgehammer.
"Will it bother you? If Alex is here?"
Max glares.
"I do not care who comes in and out as long as they are helping with rent and don't snitch."
There it is.
"Alex isn't going to tell anyone. That would screw me just as much as it would screw you, so obviously I'm not bringing him here as some kind of sabotage."
There's a slightly wounded noise from the other end of the table, and Max is making eyes at him, the sad ones that make George not hate him.
"I would not ever think you are trying to sabotage me."
"I didn't mean it like that, Max. I just meant that he's not going to tell anyone."
"Because then they would know you are in love with him?"
George is back to hating him.
------
Max had known George for longer than he'd like to admit when he moved to London. It was less of a "move" and more of "frantic scramble", and he occasionally feels that it's a miracle he wasn't murdered by any of the people who decided to help a teenager and his trailer hitchhike to the UK. The same trailer is now parked up in the driveway, but it's been gutted on the inside in order to fit both of their karts and gear.
Well. Some of their gear.
The suits and gloves and helmets are frequently tossed around the flat, and Max has accidentally found himself trying to put on the wrong pair of shoes or rib protectors more than once. George never labels his things, sleeps like the dead, and has a personal vendetta against eating anything with protein.
Max has no idea how they're going to manage Formula 4, and thinking about Formula 3 gives him hives. It's a horrifying amount of driving, there's countless plane flights they'll have to figure out tickets for, and keeping track of the sponsor agreements has been a nightmare.
He's pretty sure one of his sponsors is a paper towel manufacturer.
Not to mention neither he or George are licensed to drive actual road cars, so they're playing with fire every time they drive the trailer.
It's a bit of a nightmare, and it's a lot for two fifteen year olds. George is behind him slightly, as far as their careers, which means they have to bulldoze their way through Max's obstacles before they're able to take things slightly smoother with George.
Max has only had to sleep overnight at tracks a few times— and it helps them know which hotels are best when it's George's turn, and which ones won't look too hard at unsupervised teenagers.
He drops his head onto the table with a groan. He's halfway through a sponsor agreement, George and Alex are passed out in the bedroom, and he's only mildly panicked about the utilities bill coming up. He can probably put off getting a new pair of boots if he patches duct tape on the hole that's started to wear on the inside of his right, and they'll need to take care of George's boots first, who's hit an uncontrollable growth spurt.
He's not going to be able to wear Max's things much longer, and Alex barely brings in enough support for himself. He and Max trade off each month who's going to panic about their finances, and it's a fairly good system. His phone buzzes and he winces, because it's probably the landlord, and Max isn't sure what he's going to tell her.
"This is Max Emilian."
"Hello Max, my name is Christian Horner."
------
Christian carefully sets the phone down, staring blankly at Helmut and their talent manager.
"He's managing his own contract."
Helmut breaks into a grin, eyes sparkling.
"No Christian, weren't you listening? His manager has no legs or arms to take phone calls with, and he doesn't travel."
"Yes, and I'm sure he can only be summoned on the full moon and has to be watered with the blood of virgins as well— how the hell has he gotten this far without a manager?"
Their talent manager presses a palm to her face, sighing.
"You're going to want to sign him, aren't you."
Christian can feel a weird pang in his heart thinking about the phone call— the scratchy, pitchy voice on the other end, the clear disbelief in his voice— but Max hadn't hesitated to agree to meet with them, not even for a second. He doesn't have much of a hand in the junior teams, but it would be impossible to miss the junior rocketing through the scene, especially considering nobody's seen much of his team. There's no big name backing him, just raw speed and a pair of racing boots Christian thinks might be entirely duct tape.
"Yes, I think we will."
------
"I like the looks of the tall one— from the UK."
Nico rolls his eyes, feet kicked up on the table.
"You're just biased."
Toto takes a slow sip from his coffee, gazing at the pages of stats in front of him.
"I have to agree with Lewis, I quite like him as well. He's got good speed."
"He's a tad young, Toto."
Nico is understating it.
"I do not mind pulling a few strings. The other fast boy is being watched by Horner, and Ferrari of course have their own."
Toto sighs.
"We simply have to scout younger than we have before."
------
"Uh. I did not know there were pre-racing contracts?"
Max is looking at them slightly suspiciously, which Christian thinks is probably fair, because they're not actually a thing.
"We don't hand them out often, but we really want you on the team later, Max. The pre-racing contract just means you'll go to our junior team when you're eligible, and in the meantime you'll get a stipend for gear upkeep and flights. We might ask you to do some development driving if need be."
The trick is making it sound real, like something that makes sense for a team to be doing, instead of a glorified allowance for the kid to buy new gear. And probably groceries. Christian doesn't even want to think about whatever his living situation is, because he's been doing some digging— Max doesn't have a team. It's him and his made-up quadriplegic manager, and a scraped together group of sponsors with the kind of variety he's never seen before.
There are local mechanics and grocer's shops on the list, for Christ's sake— there's a paper towel company on his helmet.
He's close with two of the other junior drivers as well, constantly around at the junior formula races that George William is at, and he's fairly sure Toto is eyeing the younger driver.
George is in slightly better shape than Max in terms of gear, but the difference is minimal. It makes Christian want to poke his eye out.
Their little trio is rounded out with one Alex Albon, oldest of the three but not quite as fast as Max. Christian wants Helmut keeping an eye on him anyway.
"So it's a stipend?"
"Exactly."
He politely ignores the relieved slump to Max's shoulders, because it makes him want to do unprofessional things like hug him. And take him to a restaurant.
The sport is making him soft— this is why he doesn't work with junior drivers.
------
Max tells Alex about his contract stipend first, so relieved he thinks he might cry. He's already thinking about where to put the first chunk of money— they'll be able to pay off their late bills, and get George pants that actually fit, and finally have a full fridge.
Alex nudges his shoulder gently.
"And maybe some new boots for you, yeah?"
Max blinks.
"That too."
------
The bull child does not immediately buy new boots. Christian's eye twitches. Max is the youngest person running around the factory by far, not counting any of the employees that have to bring their actual children on occasion.
Christian has made sure Max's badge that he scans for meals is secretly connected to a team account, and he's informed their dev team to make sure they're taking lunch breaks.
It was more like "For the love of God please make sure he's eating", but it had gotten his point across.
Daniel is bouncing a stress ball off the wall of his office.
"Boss, I wasn't aware we were running an orphanage."
Christian ducks under the ball on his way to the desk.
"We're not. He's a talented driver, and I'm going to want him in that seat."
"I hope you've got engineering working on booster seats."
He rolls his eyes, sitting heavily in the chair.
"And don't call this an orphanage, I'm sure that's not the case. We just can't figure out who his parents are."
Daniel looks so surprised that he doesn't catch the ball, and it bounces dejectedly across the floor.
"Wait, seriously? You don't know? Mate, he's a Verstappen. Like an evil nepo baby."
Christian blinks, running through his catalogue of notable names—
Oh.
Jos Verstappen had made motorsports news with his eventual arrest and charges, and it would've been early in Max's karting career. It's not surprising Max doesn't race with the name, considering the connotations that come with it.
But if he's not managed under Jos, who the hell...
"Who the fuck's raising him then?"
Daniel's eyebrow twitches. It's one of his tells, the one that means he's about to lie to Christian's face.
"Must be a relative or something."
Right. It's quite possibly the least reassuring thing he could've said— and he's taking a clear side here, trying to somehow protect the younger driver.
Which means Max probably does not have anybody raising him. Which also means—
------
"Toto."
"Christian."
"You're taking on the William's boy, right? George?"
Toto leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together.
"Don't you have your own junior drivers? Why are you trying to poach mine?"
"I'm not trying to poach him, I'm trying to make sure they're not living out of their damn karts on the street."
At Toto's raised eyebrow, Christian elaborates.
"Max Emilian is actually Max Verstappen, and I've spent the last few weeks becoming increasingly confident that between him, George, and the older boy Alex that there is not an adult around. At all."
"Is that why you've given him an allowance?"
Christian winces.
"I was thinking that you should also do that. I can't up Max's again without him getting suspicious, and there's only so much reasonable intervention for a team to make. But he keeps spending it on the other two."
"Don't tell me he's still in the boots."
"He's still in the boots."
"My God."
------
"Max! I have another contract!"
Alex shoves his head under the pillow. He's trying to sleep, and George had been in a meeting with Williams all day before he'd caught the train back to their flat. He and Max are probably going to spend the next few hours— and following days— going over the paperwork line by line. Alex pays a manager to handle his work.
He's not sure what it says that Max and George are doing so well without one.
Max's hair is still damp, long at the edges. Alex needs to cut it soon, even if wrangling Max to stand over the sink and let Alex take a pair of scissors to his head goes well approximately never. It helps if George sits on the edge of the tub and becomes the victim to Max's thoughts on track layouts while Alex tries to focus.
His own hair is a mess, because Max and George are completely hopeless with the scissors, and he's learned it's better for him to give it his best shot with a hand mirror and a dream. They spend most of their time under balaclavas anyways.
He shoves aside his thoughts on his own career as he sits up, because he's genuinely proud of George, and he wants him to know that. His hair is grown out and starting to develop a curl pattern, and Alex often finds himself twirling strands of it absentmindedly around his fingers when they're on the couch together.
Max peers at the papers. His reading glasses are shoved up into his hair.
"Oh! You have a pre-racing stipend also!"
Alex takes a slow breath. He's not sure what the hell is going on with Max and George and their fucking racing allowances, but it's ridiculous. It's not a real thing, he knows it's not a real thing, but it's been their saving grace lately, the only thing keeping them both in racing, and Alex is petrified that if he breaths on their delicate house of cards wrong, the entire thing will come crashing down.
He couldn't do that to George. If he did do it to George, Max would probably take a hammer to his skull.
"Oh, I make more than you do."
"What?"
Alex bites his lip to avoid laughing.
"With Williams?"
Max rolls his eyes, glasses dropping to his nose as he takes the packet from George.
"George William in a Williams, that is fucked up mate. It's like if I was Max Bull in a Red Bull."
"Max Bullshit, maybe."
Alex winces at the ensuing scuffle. He should probably get in the middle of it— he's the oldest, and Max fights mean— but he'd caught a bony elbow to the face once and has no interest in it happening again.
They'll get it sorted out eventually.
#ficlet#they're so tiny#they're tiny and they hate each other#but also not#but also try to strangle each other#but also use their funds to take care of each other#are you picking up what I'm putting down#max stages an intervention when alex and george start to get older and closer#'I don't care if you fuck but you're offsetting the rent price to get a 2bed flat so I don't have to hear it'#they buy a cheap one#he ends up hearing it anyways#tiny gax verse
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the new crystal temp
#steven universe#su fanart#lapis lazuli#amethyst#amethyst su#lapis su#my art#fanart#my posts#comics#described#2024#ignore that i mismatched the timeline on their designs this is the only amethyst i had on quick draw#ive been trying to figure out their dynamic for a fic im writing#i think it in the end itd be like 40% 'its just you and me against the world man' and 60% trying to strangle each other#also hrm i think i gotta start drawing in my own style again after this lmao
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do NOT talk to me i am insane right now
#context: tadc ep 6#y010 pop-up#this ep is not about gangle at all but oooooh my god she did so good i love her#i love the circus members' disinterest/discontentment making progress in cracking caine#and speaking of cracking JAXXXXXXXXX#BUDDY BOY IM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU#this entire episode was about self-hatred and it's so so so awesome that jax gets the spotlight. he won the hates himself award#anyway back to gangle im so happy she got to stand up to jax and open up to zooble and had fun being herself#im so happy for team unmasked they're so yuriful (lack of better term)#i need them to run off into the sunset together they're so supportive of each other#it's more that zooble supports gangle but gangle has so much potential she just has to believe in herself more#also really happy that ragatha finally gets to talk to kinger SHE'S THE REASON HE'S STILL ALIVE they're so sweet they deserve each other#im trying so hard not to talk about jax his monologues are so fucked up#the emphasis on 'the funny one' fucks me up so much inside like yeah????? why are you like that.#why are you objectifying everyone. including yourself. why are you egg.#anyway banger episode
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She's so prettyyyyyyy 😍😍😍 Also, surprisingly good at passing mechanics checks for it not being her top talent.
#queen in gacane#esmey#greedfall tdw#gtdw spoilers#she and nilan frequently want to strangle each other BUT ALSO would die for each other and i'm trying to decide where i wanna take that 👀👀
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listen. listen. Kendra and Donnie are THE most kismesis people ever. fated nemesis. rivals trying to outsmart one another. common interests. intellectually matched. driven and competitive and cannot stand the other. i feel like im out here with a megaphone trying to give away a 2024 car for free and everyone is walking past me.
#im not putting this in the tags#anyways im still just... so baffled that im the only person out here on this raft#ive gone in the kendratello tag once or twice but like the people there... they dont get me#they want it either enemies to lovers or they make it super sweet and gooey and im like. no. nah bro.#thats not why im here. youre missing the point.#i want to see them try to strangle each other and then also kiss a bit#only 2013 homestucks understand#you guys are my only friends
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sometimes i'll wonder how i was so functional at my old job bc I had quit my anxiety meds cold turkey before joining and stayed living + working in dangerous/stressful situations for almost a year without them, and then i remember when you're living in dangerous/stressful situations with a group of like 8 other people who are also your coworkers and are all going through the same thing you are without any support systems, you form the world's weirdest/most codependent mini community where you all hate eachother's guts but also literally can't function without one another and like. who needs meds when you have whatever the fuck that was
#it keeps u sane#no time to worry about the mold poisoning or the lead poisoning or the arsenic poisoning or the mice that crawl into your bedwhen you sleep#because ur too busy trying not to actually strangle ur coworker/roommate who was a little to dismissive/passive aggressive towards you#who cares about the unleashed untrained dog that tried to bite you or his owner who blamed u for it. and who is also ur boss#ur dumbass coworker found pool noodles and you're all about to beat the shit out of each other
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What if I got silly with it
#I might be getting a TAD attached to yandere Raine after writing Their Muse#it’s only supposed to be a oneshot! a what-if!#sighs deeply. hopefully drawing them will help#also very amused of how the four would react to meeting each other#our Raine is baffled and confused at how yandere Raine got to this point (unaware that their boyfriend is the same)#meanwhile our Peter is trying to strangle his counterpart because how DARE he not see their beauty???#yandere Raine hears this as becomes a sopping wet beast#they’re jealous of our Raine but figures it’s no use fighting them for our Peter ^^; at least one of them gets to be happy#your boyfriend oc#raine my beloved <3#also this is unfinished#maybe I’ll post the finished one soon
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Bat(man) Romance - T.F.
Synopsis. Running into Batman AKA your ex-husband, Toji, after a heist? Could this night get any worse? Well, there’s also one tiny problem…you’re both covered in séx pollen.
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! Catwoman! reader, Batman! Toji, BATMAN AU, exes-to-Iovers, PlNING, séx pollen, he goes FÉRAL, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, he’s BIG, making it fit, tummy buIges, overstím, chokíng, p sIapping, making him cúm early, creampíes, cúmplay, he’s RUlNED, bickering during it, latex, cervíx kíssing, bréeding, pússydrúnk Toji, pheromones, spítting, praise, fíngering, proposals, he’s also rich, L bómbs, Megumi cameo, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.0k
A/N. CAUGHT IN BAAAD ROMANCE!!

“Too slow~” You’re snickering to yourself, latex-covered legs swinging in the air as you eye the scattered pinpricks of red n’ blue police lights below. Scouring every road and lane in Gotham City for you - while you gazed with amusement atop a nearby rooftop.
You guess that’s part of being the resident Catwoman. Never to be caught.
Well, never to be caught by anyone other than him.
You shake off the unwanted memories of your now ex-husband, the billionaire vigilante you were supposed to have happily spent the rest of your life with. And it really didn’t help that the skyscraper you’d found refuge on just-so-happened to be part of his sprawling Fushiguro Enterprises.
Oh well…
Breathing in the sweet, crispy night air; you turn to what had gotten you in trouble in the first place.
That brilliant - almost glowing - pink flower you’d just stolen from the depths of a ministry vault, now clutched tightly in your cunning hands. “I like something that gives me a lil’ fight.”
“Then you’re gonna love me.”
It was a voice you could recognize anywhere, anytime-– that low, drawling growl that seeped his baritone words with just a bit of danger.
And you’d forgotten how fast Toji Fushiguro was.
Because just as soon as the realization hits your startled brain, your front hits the frigid rooftop tile. Tackled down. Face smushing into the smooth marble, chest panting out murked clouds when a heavy weight settles on your sinfully arched back.
Toji slouches sexily on top of you so that his scarred maw tickles your tender earlobe, weight fully rested to pin you down on the ground. Big, beefy arms holding you like a vice, “Heya, wifey.”
“Hello, ex-husband.”
“So- s’it a coincidence that both you and the police are visitin’ me or–?”
Ah- he was just as infuriatingly cocky as ever. Fuck having a happily ever after, you two were more likely to kill each other before that.
You snarl, more so because you’re unsure what else to do than anything. “Oh you know- just missing my favorite ex.” No matter how much you kick and scratch, Toji’s restraint stays firm. Trying to focus your widened peripherals on the ground instead, “I thought they killed you.”
“Not yet.”
And oh, you can’t deny that having his familiar hands on you after so long had you a little…electrified.
Shit– fine, on those lonely nights you’d even dreamt of having his thick, doughy fingertips tracing your simmering skin this way. All over. Drawing sloooow hearts near the nape of your neck - that lecherous bastard - before dipping down, down, down to lock both your wrangling wrists with only one of his oversized ones.
Your fists clench tightly, still grappling onto that priceless exotic flower. The curved fringes of his digits caress the metallic zipper running down your spine, “Hiding something, mama?”
“Meow, tiger—” You’re purring out, “If you wanted to feel me up then you only had to ask~”
“Down, kitty.” His free hand tugs on your cute spiked collar to strangle those jabs, and then immediately unravels your hands to pluck the pretty stem from between your fingerpads. He twirls the blossom casually in his hands, “So this is it, huh? I should hand you to the Gotham police right this second.”
Your nose wrinkles at the sudden waft of syrupy pheromones that puff out from the flower in shimmery pink vapors. Hissing, “No! Give that back-”
Only for the words to tighten themselves into speechless knots at your throat because you’d finally, finally gotten your first good look at Toji Fushiguro since the divorce.
Ever since you two had decided, after only a few months of marriage, that perhaps love wasn’t enough to keep you two from tying each other down to your own opposing ideologies and purposes. You ruled a crime empire, he was a death-defying hero.
And he was also…hot.
Had he grown even more handsome than the last time you saw him? Because, fuck, you don’t remember his rugged jawline being quite as sharp. Or his shaggy Stygian bangs curtaining oh-so-intense of a gaze.
And his suit - oh, his suit. Toji was still donning that dark, skin-tight batsuit as you remembered - only right now, his Adonis-like muscles were practically ripping through the elastic material. Illuminated by the yolky moonlight overhead to carve out every dip and curve, every bob of his prominent Adam’s apple.
Slightly horned mask pulled over his head, he doesn’t even bother to hide the sultry roaming of his mossy eyes.
Toji Fushiguro was like sex personified, and that makes you stir impatiently on the polished tile.
He’s shifting his bulky heft to stop your pathetic motions, straddling now. Lips twisting into a sleazy leer as his silken cape drapes over your body. “Cat got your tongue, wifey?”
“That’s my line, Batman.” You’re huffing out, lower lip jutting out in a way you already knew he loved. Ignoring his murmured rasp of ‘you look good’, you plead for the spoils of your heist once more. God, you could sense the scented perfume already saturating the heady air. “Give that back…p-please-”
“Oho?” Toji raises a sleek black brow, chuckles spouting off in gusts of scorched breath. He inches even closer, letting out a loooow whistle between his surprised lips, “The great Catwoman usin’ her manners? Ohh, say that again.”
“...please?”
“How cute.”
“Fuck off.”
“S’this lil’ flower really that important then?” You hear grumbling from above you - and you really should’ve predicted what would happen next. You really shouldn’t have been surprised when Toji promptly touches the straight bridge of his nose between it’s velvety petals and steals a deep sniff—
“You imbecile!”
And if Toji was swift, you were swifter.
“Oh, shit- sugar.”
He barely even registers that it’d taken two bats of his long eyelashes for you to break out of his heroic stronghold and slam! his towering body to the ground. Your legs latched onto either side of his toned v-line like glue, one hand of yours clawing onto the unmistakable bat logo on his broad chest.
“Reminds me of our honeymoon.” Toji cocks a grin from underneath, slender waist bucking - and failing - to throw you off. You were fucking determined.
“I have never- met a more-” You spit through your clenched teeth, so hard you could taste the raw poison coating your tone. Through each pant of your chest, you swipe for your prize like the cat that was yearning for the cream. “-stubborn- hard-headed- moronic bat-”
Over and over.
And then with a final reach of your free set of fingers, you entrap Toji’s wrist, grab the delicate flower, and–
-crush it.
Only, this was no regular bloom.
The moment its glowy pink petals collide with your fingertips, softened fibre smashing into your eager flesh, the blossom bursts. Bursts. Into a thick, cloudy smog of microscopic pollen that glitters and spreads in front of your eyes.
The sight was so mesmerizing that by the time you’re trudging your head out of the saccharine-smelling distraction, and crying out a frantic “Don’t breathe it in!”– it’s already too late.
Toji himself can’t see any reason why you’re practically sputtering n’ fraught - he certainly isn’t.
Sure, he was not the one who’d just lost what was likely a few million dollars worth of a rare plant. But when he had you like this? How could he ever even think of- actually, how could he ever even think?
Your chest heaving deliciously in that glossy latex catsuit, cute lips spit-slicked and parted with a never-ending train of complaints, fiery eyes he missed so much locked on him - and sat prettily on top of him, to boot! Oh, how he’d dreamt of this.
“Heh, always did like havin’ you on top of me, mama.” He inches his lolling head carnally closer to steal a few inhales of that sweet, sweet perfume you were wearing. It wasn’t your usual - but damn, did it leave him drunk on you.
And he sounded so gone.
Shit.
“Oh no, it’s working already.” You bemoan, massaging the looming headache throbbing at your temples.
“What’s workin’?”
“The sex pollen.” You jeer, your heart racing with a slight inkling of satisfaction at the way you’d finally managed to render your taunting ex-husband speechless. Or was it from…something else? You didn’t want to consider that just yet. You’re dragging your hips on top of his and you almost moan.
Instead, stabbing a rigid index right between the cushy valleys of his pecs, lingering. “Which you- would have known if you’d just listened to me. Honestly- this is why we divorced-”
“Sex…”
“Sex pollen.”
And then it’s silence. Tense, deafening silence.
Not even the sounds of the distantly-blaring police sirens are enough to make the panic set into your shivering body. Because right now it was bubbling with something feverish.
Needy.
But did you really forget who you were dealing with? Of course, Toji would never let the uncomfortable quiet linger on for too long before he shatters the night stillness with a sharp bark of husked laughter.
“S-so you’re sayin’...” He starts, and you definitely don’t like that particular tone of his. One which never boded well for you. With a hand squishing either side of your cheeks embarrassingly together, he ogles you dead-on into your hazed irises as he asks, “-you want to fuck me right here, right now, my wife?”
“I-I don’t-”
“I can tell when you lie, sugar.”
“Fuck you.”
His willowy eyes flutter shut with the image - and Toji feels so hot. He feels like he’s burning straight from the inside out, so many degrees higher in temperature at your sexy, sexy glare that told him you wanted murder him in cold blood and dance on his grave. Inhaling deeply, “S’that a request, mama~?”
And it was meant to be a joke - seriously. It was meant to be something stupid that would make you scoff and shove off of his burly body, disappearing into the night as he so often admired.
But you always did surprise him.
And so did the next word spilling shyly from your mouth– “Yes.”
If Toji thought he was burning before then he was simply aflame with fire right now.
All he can do to steady his dizzy head, all he can do to stagger his greatly heaving chest into choking out a guttural, “Fine- come on.”
Before you know it, your entire world tilts upside down - and not just because your ex-husband is throwing you over his meaty shoulders, your stomach laid over his rippling muscles. The slinky whoosh! of his grapple gun darting out and hooking onto the side of his building. Firmly. Your ass held high in the air, you swear you feel him give your right cheek a solid spank. “You wanna lose control, wifey? Let’s lose control.”
Fuck.
It takes two seconds for Toji to stride to the edge of the high skyscraper and projectile swing the both of you over to launch inside a conveniently-open window on the highest floor. Pulling himself inside.
And only one second for you to realize that he’d just line-launched you straight into his fucking bed.
Honestly, your scream had barely had the time to formulate within your throat before you’re being thrown straight onto a plush, dark-blanketed king sized mattress.
Glassy eyes looking ‘round – you’re realizing that you’d been transported right inside one of his many looming Gotham penthouses. Hell, he’d even fucked you right here in this exact bed a few times before.
Just your luck to choose to hideout in your ex-husband’s fucking house of all places.
“You- you little-” Your shrilling voice cuts out with every springing bounce, which makes the glare thrown in Toji’s direction immensely useless. Thighs emanating a stretchy screech of latex as they press together, you intake deep gulps of his musky cologne. “-you know how I always h-hated that thing.”
And oh, landed only a few feet away from the bed, Toji laughs - he laughs.
Breathy noises coming out in a thick tone, part of his face was obscured with the shadows spilling from outside. But the partial expression you could see made Toji Fushiguro look ruined - sharp, honed canines lifted into a snarl, sage eyes halfway through glowing. Desperate.
He looked at you like he wanted to devour you - and spoke of just the very thing. Gritting out, “And I’ve always hated that damn catsuit, mama.”
Heavy stepfalls thud! thud! thud! closer. And Toji’s sculptured body prowls like a predator closing in on his prey. Closed in on you.
“L-liar. You know you liked it.”
And closer.
“I did.”
Until it was too close.
And suddenly Toji had two meaty palms loops around your helpless ankles to draaaag you all the way down his decadent bed, your hips flailing until they find purchase somewhere near the very edge.
Ending off- “And I couldn’t wait to fuckin’ rip it off every time I saw it.”
Your skin feels so hot it’s like it’s melting, parched heat wafting off of you like the damn Sahara as his rude fingers pinch the rubbery material between your legs and riiiiips—! Exposing you for just how soaked n’ pretty you were.
Oh.
So drenched that just tearing your latex had you forming a damn puddle. Toji isn’t sure whether it’s the sex pollen or just fucking you that makes his heart race faster when he’s watching the slimy globs trickle from between your dewy, swollen folds.
Throbbing so depravedly that he counts one, two, three adorable quivers of your pussy before finally speaking.
“Fuck, I missed ‘er.” Toji’s seething between his teeth, already on fucking edge for letting himself go the what– seven months? without his only lady. He breathes in - gulping in that sugary smell of your cunt, and it’s so much. Too much, he’s nibbling on your sleek mask. “Fuck-”
“Y-you’re-”
You’re dazed, your puffy pouted lips glueing together with stupid drool and flapping wildly after the hero lowers himself to gift a wet, smacking kiss on your dripping outer pussy. “A kiss for her, aaaand-”
Toji tastes you and he flinches. Just for a split-second before the creamy stickiness clinging to his lips presses onto yours-
“-a kiss for her.” Toji’s lapping the scratchy buds of his tongue to slither across your pouted lower lip, sloshing out beaded wads of your own sap. Sweet. “Mmmm- really did miss this hah- pretty mouth, sugar.”
“You’re damn filthy.” You kiss through barren glares, and Toji’s grasping at the crown of your mask to tilt your head back. To swat your throat with a weighty splosh! of saliva.
“And you’re damn likin’ it. See?”
Fuck- you didn’t know if you even wanted to. Knowing damn well that it would be something enough to drive you into madness.
But, alas, for how relentless of a criminal you were - good always did win in the end, after all.
Though, as Toji slaps his swollen fingertips over your slick-filled hole to watch the ribbons of slick leak and ooze a glittery gloss over his wrist, you really wondered whether this would have been more evil than good.
You watched through cracked eyelids at the way Toji was certainly smirking like it was. Your watery eyes can’t look away– “T-Toji.”
“Mhmm–?” He’s gnawing on your sting-buzzed lips like a gummy, itching the top of your wobbly bottom lip with his sultry scar. You really did miss that textured feeling.
“Want- want you.”
“Are you begging, wifey?”
And right now you couldn’t even bring yourself to correct him - only blubbering with your desperate tongue, incoherent soft gasps about ‘please’. Wrapping your arms unstably around his broad shoulders, you thumb at the sweat-dampened black curls hanging on the nape of his neck.
Making sure to lock your heart-eyes deeply with his - Toji feels his entire body shudder. He feels his entire body wrack with vulgar shivers from head to toe when your dilated pupils come in direct contact with his own.
It isn’t even that damn sex pollen that makes his heavy tongue wash over with a simmering wave of spit just from the way you tilt your head n’ whine “Baby…”
Now you’ve done it– you’ve used that top secret weakness of his. Pet names.
The moment the airy syllables leave your cunning lips, you watch as your ex-husband’s darkened eyes flap shut. As if he was holding himself back this entire time. A tick in his jaw growing, a blush on his face burning, and his response has you wondering whether this was really the Toji Fushiguro.
Whether it was really him with his usual bass so hoarse, higher. Wild. “E-evil.”
And it’s like the heat is hitting him tenfold, curdling inside him and culminating in an ultimate, big dollop of syrupy saliva that Toji’s meandering down between your folds. Saturating your pussy with yet another layer of slicked sap, he’s rubbing one of his globed thumbs riiight over the mess.
“Count f’me, mama.” SMACK! He’s granting a tough pawprint of his fingers on the hood of your clit, grinning sleazily down at you. “Count.”
You feel your skin heat, swamping out a proper pool between your thighs at this point. “F-fuck y-youu- ngh!”
“What was that?” Toji hums, darkly. The cushioned bed dips and creaks! when he’s shifting sloooowly down the bed, closer to where you needed him the most. But so painfully slow. He finds himself snickering at the way your huffs grow louder in impatience.
“O-one…”
Another filthy thwack, and another cracking whine departing from your slobbery lips. It reaches Toji’s ears like his favorite song and compels him to reward you with another.
“Two- three.”
And another.
“Four.”
And another.
“Hck! Five- five five five-” You’re bucking your hips wildly into his clashing hand, and the slightest smear of his mountainous palm on your pussymound makes your legs twitch animalistically. You arch upwards in repeated grinds- Practically sobbing, from both ends, “Please, Toji- please.”
And it takes him exactly one more sullen spank on your fluttery nub to render you just starstruck enough for him to strike his knees against the floor without yourself noticing. The aching thud! reverberating Toji’s mahogany bedframe with just how urgent he was.
Rapid.
Desperate.
Toji spends a good chunk of time simply admiring your body, his nostrils flaring with great gusto as he drinks in your fragrance. Like caramel candy. Dripping wet. You were so fucking pretty, and that was something that would never change.
You’re feeling a sweltering sigh hit the very outside of your cunt, washing over you like a summer breeze right as Toji’s hollowed baritone rings out. “Missed me, kitty?”
Scrambling up onto your elbows with all and any remaining strength, the last thing you manage to see is fucking Toji Fushiguro - the dark knight, still in his snug suit - kneeling at the bedside as if he was worshipping you.
His pinkish tongue flopped out to smear a little wetspot where your inner thighs were, peeking at you through his dark lashes. Drunken.
Before your head throws back and all you can hear is the plopping squelch! of Toji prying apart your adhesive-slicked folds. Stray snapped strands of sap hitting his plunging lips, he circles your sloppy hole exactly once ahead of bullying inside.
“O-oh my- oh my god.” You’re hiccuping out, white-hot stars of pleasure bursting behind your weighted lids at the sheer stretch.
Toji’s lecherous tongue laps at your entrance and reminds you of just how big he is – how loooong. You swear you feel like his wet muscle is never-ending when he’s smearing your pussylips widely agape to push n’ push n’ push.
Mazing his slobbery way through your mushy walls until the tip of his tastebuds prickled almost near your sweet spots. And he’s just as mean as you never got used to, thrusting in and out of your cunt before you can utter a word.
“Please…oh please-” You’re thrashing back into the slight hill of expensive velveteen bedsheets that had collected underneath your surging hips.
Hands scrambling anywhere - everywhere - from the plush of his mattress, to clenching into fists, to creeping onto Toji’s bulky deltoids and reeling him in deeper-
“Oi, mind ya manners, wifey.” He’s stretching his tongue out wiiiide, swabbing the flattened fringes in a massage down your raw walls. It’s a scissoring sensation that leaves you sobbing for mercy, your cheek bitten in a desperate attempt to keep your composure. Failing.
“But- but I want more.”
“More, huh?” Shit, he’s humping his hips ferally into the smooth bedstead, rolling his throb-throb-throbbing bulge into it so hard that his words start veering into a…growl. “My wife wants more- more more more.”
The invisible pollen sticks to you like gum, leaving you insatiable.
A few steamy wads of drool trickle down your pussylips, and Toji makes sure to keep your fattened folds open so that he can slouch back for a second and watch the wads seep inside your hole. One beefy arm is all it takes to keep your legs open when you try to shut them cutely closed.
You’re both holding direct eye-contact as he bites down on a snagged edge of his glossy gloves and draaaags it slowly off. Displaying your unfocused eyes with rugged, tannish skin.
“How ‘bout a lil’ ‘thank you’, huh?”
“Sh-shut up…”
“Spit in my mouth then-”
And when you reach over to, he’s slurping it allll up. Every translucent speckle. “Ungrateful girl.” He’s moaning into your pussy, and you gasp at the sensation of his honed fangs sinking around your pulsating clit and biting. “She’s h-happy to see me though, riiiight?”
And it was true. Your diveling pussy was on overdrive, pulse after pulse that let out the most conversational noises Toji would nod and hum along to. “Damn, mama- ya sure yer my ngh- ex-wife? Fuckin’ missed how wet she got.” Sopping out so many more luscious splotches of slick - raining, fountaining out and he still couldn’t get enough.
You’re letting off whiny babbling mewls as you’re feeling Toji ladle out the clingy residue onto the capped tops of two fingertips. Pecking your quivering hole with a loud sluuuuurp, before he’s thickly stretching his way inside.
“Fuck- fuuuuuuck–!” You’re squealing, your cheek lolling further into the moist puddle of drool that was constantly escaping your poor maw. Insatiable.
And it was safe to say that your pathetic pussy hadn’t experienced anyone as staggeringly big n’ girthy as Toji. Ever. Because all that solid fucking length on his fingers and he only had to slip inside the very sensory pads to get you to feel like the world was spinning.
“They’re- they’re so big–” You’re hiccuping out through the leaden ball stuck in your throat, and it’s hard enough to pitch your words up to an audible level over all the waterlogged squelches.
So filthy, every damp inch inside of you curls up deliciously. He’s plugging your overspilling cunt up all the way to his knobbly knuckles, “S’that a compliment? From you?”
The bed shakes as Toji’s gyrating his hips even deeper, the plummy crown of his tip streaming out wet, syrupy smears of pre all across his overpriced mahogany.
You’re sinking deeper into the humid bed when he slaps his manicured crescents of fingernails right over the orifice of your g-spot. Oh. Pushing. Pleasing.
Delving purposefully deep to set you off maddeningly, “C’mon, sugar—-” Toji croons out, trawling his greedy tongue all over from the drenched crevices of your thighs to where your clit was all plump n’ perky.
Delicately outlining the cutest of wet hearts on your leaky pussy, he swabs a targeted whack right into your g-spot and makes you cry– “Yeah- tha’s right. Tha’s right.” Breathy tone hurried, rough. “Heh- meow f’me, kitty.”
You swear you were about to open your stupid maw and teach him a thing or two - maybe about how you wanted more - you swear. But right at that very moment, Toji’s third finger eases in past your gushing walls and toys with the buttons of your g-spot just right.
Rendering your jaw permanently slack, your cunt smeared wide open - sap waterfalling out like it was nonstop.
And all this time whilst Toji had been driving you to insanity with his right hand - oh, the man himself is fucking slobbering out viscid pearls of slobber as he brushes over the cold, cold wedding ring on his left hand over your clit and makes you arch—
He still had it?
“Please–” Your eyes moisten with big, salty tears, streaking down your face and making it so fucking difficult for Toji to keep himself from reaching over and licking them clean off. “M’not gonna last- fuck! M’not gonna…”
Ahhh, how cute.
Unruly locks of his hair plastered onto his perspired head, you’re just barely able to make out the sassy roll of Toji’s eyes. “Where’s that stamina of yours- ngh- wifey?”
“Where are those fuuuuck! d-divorce papers–?”
“Ooooo, fuck- I’ve missed that damn mouth.” He almost fucking whines, bloated cock twitching. And thereafter every wet slap! of his lips is followed by a pained grunt, every thud of his fingers deep into your goopy pussy crazed. Toji’s taking all of you - everything he can.
Making up for how many nights he’s fucking missed you, he twinges his frigid ring over your sensitive nub and pinches. All the way until your fleshy clit scorches with heat, painful n’ yet so good. “Mmm– seems like heh- someone’s gonna cum–”
And, shit, it might just be the both of you right about now — but your pretty self didn’t have to know that right now.
Every sloppy clench of your soft insides squeezing instinctively ‘round him only made Toji’s fat balls even tighter. Fuller. And the completely primal sounds ripping out of you are nothing if not sexy.
Only growing louder. Faster.
Your tight ring stings with the ramming slams of his rounded knuckles hitting again and again.
Toji wheezes out a slurring few mumbles over your clit and your toes curl. Pushing your hips back to glue your oversaturated folds lecherously against his scarred lips. Itching yeeeearningly over n’ over your shaky pussy. Your tummy flutters carnally as he rasps, “Go on then. C-cum f’me, mama- cum goddammit.”
The pollen was scorching him– making him starved.
And the sheer bliss that overtakes your body and makes you shake is ridiculous. Like something buried deep inside of you snaps–
“Cumming—” You trill out shrillingly, “Cumming cumming cumming– fuuuck, baby–!”
“I already know, kitty.”
Toji’s already crushing the massive bulge tenting his pants against the polished bedframe, hungrily lapping up every spurt, every twitch, every ounce of sappy slick that angrily swashed out of you. And ohhhh, this was heaven on Earth.
His lips were stinging at this point, drinking up all the ribbons of translucent juices that slipped down his tongue like a lacquer. He was so thoroughly at home, making out away between your pretty tremblin’ legs.
The edges of his pearly whites getting caught on your tender clit and sopping out your large splashes of sap even more feverishly. “So fuckin’ sweeeet, my wife.”
Toji lets his pointed chin droop open to smear over the very base of your treacly pussy, creaming all out into his steaming hot mouth. He’s drifting the metallic band of his ring over your hole - soaked with a thin layer of perspiration and smooching your clit with the buttony tip of his nose.
Spitting, just to watch the drenched way in which it spills out of your flooded entrance, Toji’s dark lashes shutter as it sprays a glittery sheen all over his sexy features.
“H-heh- clean your act up, mama.” Toji husks out, his clenched teeth gleaming with so many multiple laminations of dripping wet slick. Your sweet cunt was so filthy, and he can’t help but let out a wild, unrestrained laugh– “Should punish ya for this fuckin’ mess.”
And you’re barely even done with the Earth-shattering highs of your orgasm, toes still curling every time the teasing tip of his tongue flickers in and out of your hole a few recurring times.
Thighs tremoring as you shake out an unsteady, “Y-you made it.”
“That I did.” Another swopping slap, and Toji pulls himself off with a wet plop! It’s so fuckin’ loud, because that’s just how drenched you were, he hisses at the vicious spanks of stranded slick hitting his face. Grunting out - because oh, he missed you already.
Couldn’t stop himself from departing a throaty groan and kissing your dripping cunt again. And again. And again. Snog after slippery snog.
He’s panting out in scorched syllables, “Really fuckin’ missed my hah- wife’s pretty pussy.”
“I’m not-”
“After this?” His smile was so smug as he finally – finally, managed to reel in ‘nough self-control to actually pull away. Making such an exaggerated show of sucking his thick, sopping wet digits all the way from his knuckles to the very tip. Satisfied, “You sure…wifey?”
Your needy hips twitch from the last few dredges of your high, “M’your ex- oh.”
And yet, you can’t even defend your honor - not when Toji starts shedding that stupid hero suit of his and he looks like that.
Ohhh, all the way from head-to-toe. One by one. The yellowish oval of his Batman logo almost splitting straight in half when it snags on one of his ridged obliques. And fuck– you certainly did miss this - maybe you wouldn’t really mind his renewal of your titles…
Your eyes rovered all greeeedily to take in the swole puff of his broad pecs, spine curved deliciously in a slight ‘S’ from his muscular back to his sinful waistline.
Shit, he wasn’t even wearing much underneath his suit.
Nothing other than a tight, stuffed underwear that didn’t hide much- anything, actually. You’re ogling unblinkingly at the raven curls that stick out in a rugged happy trail. Bumpin’ up and down his exact eight washboard abs and tufting out at his swollen base.
Taking his sticky boxers off.
Fuck…
The bed dips and sings out creaking praises as Toji splays his bulky, capped knees on either side and meets you somewhere in the middle. Close.
Manspread so vulgarly that you can count the precise number of times his biiiig cock bobs up n’ down, you’re gasping at the sheer way he seems to have grown. Because surely Toji Fushiguro wasn’t always this massive, right?
Swollen. All proudly near damn ten or eleven inches and covered in decorative zig-zags of veins, he was so fucking hard that his glistening shaft was twitching with every pounding ba-dump–! of his pulse.
Your mouth waters as you take in the overwhelming streams of warm, see-through pre that was frosting his reddish crownhead in a thickly cap. Aching to be inside you. So fucking hot. Burning.
Toji was as bloated as a ripe strawberry and just as pink, you’re licking your lips at the lewd wonderment of whether or not his firm, mushroomed tip would taste like it, too. And before you know it, you’re crawling slyly to where he was kneeled on the bed.
Your kiss-bruised lips just flopping on top of his curvaceous head to give a sweltering, steamy smooch before–
“Fuh-fuuuuck! Nuh uh, mama…” Sparkly dewdrops of sweat swing to and fro as Toji shakes his head vehemently. Curling a soft hand at your throat and manhandling you to lay out flat on the puffy mattress, “Now.”
It’s all that’s said – it’s all that has to be said.
And by the grating, gone tonality sticking to his words, your husband meant it.
Not even soon enough.
Especially once he’s getting his hands on the glossy fabric of your catsuit and teeearing it all down into unapologetic tatters. Thrown all over his messy floor, Toji can’t help but admire that gorgeous body he’s thought about night after night after night.
“T-Toji–” You’re whimpering impatiently, and it takes only the slightest buck of your hips for him to lug over a meaty knee and press it down on your slobbering pussymound.
Your silvery slit slopping out a glistening splotch right where his capped limb was pinning you down with pressure. Hard. Though, honestly, it doesn’t even take much of his ripped muscles to hold you still.
“Eeeasy. Easy there, sugar.” He spits into your saggingly ajar mouth. And only nanosecond later you’re stung with the striking clap! of his ballooned-up length falling on your dribbling pussylips. Rubbing over the tender flesh with his wiry, tamed hairs, “Jus’ wanna nghh- admire my wife a lil’.”
Shit, you almost forgot what a complete tease he was.
Sandwiching his cylindrical length between your raw folds - he’s almost warming his vicious hips up. Sliding loooong drags of his blushing tip up and down your teary slit, you were so helplessly needy underneath him.
Smack! Smack! Smack! There he went spanking your nubbed clit with a few prodding veins of his, one after the other.
And he’s skimming a fat thumb to watch your frothing hole even better, slabbing your cunt with another slab of spittle through titters. Taking a countless deep inhale of your sweet, sweet scent.
Pure heat.
“Ad-admire me later—” You’re sounding out your complaints so prettily, droplets of tears starting to accumulate by the edges of your droopy gaze. Just simply soaked through, your mouth overspills with saccharine water to catch up to the rest. Needed it. You needed this.
“So you admit it?”
“Wh-ngh- what?”
“Admit that you’re m-my…” You almost don’t have the privilege of hearing the rest of Toji’s smug grumbles because of the way he promptly aligns himself on the target of your dripping cunt. Of the way he slouches forward, your ears popping once he sinks in– “-wife.”
And oh, for how full Toji was leaving you with only his sheer size - cramming n’ cramming his solid fucking length desperately - the hero was stuffing you only fuller when he eases a red, swollen inch and cums.
You’re hearing it before you register it - that sickly sweet sluuuurp of being filled to the utter brim. Your poor, gummy walls ram with so many knotted wads of cum that you feel dizzy. Stretching, stretching, stretching until the tautness pulled by his snaggling veins bloats even further with the splosh of thick seed. Filling you up.
He was ruthless on a normal day, but with the pollen he was merciless. Leaving none alive.
“T-Tooooji–!” You yowl out at the poke of his fattened, bludgeoning tip scraping your insides deeply. He wasn’t going easy on you. At all. No, you were going to take it.
Your eyes widen a fraction at the scalding trickle of goopy seed that was pouring out of you, buttering your lips with frosty white icing. One of your fingers twitch to smear a mess of the puddle, “Did- did you just c-”
“Move that damn hand.”
“Wha-”
“I said-” Toji leans in close enough that you can count every strand of gold in his jade eyes, dark brows furrowing. And you’re not quite sure that the fire in his gaze is solely because of the pollen, “-move that damn hand.”
Before you can make a singular motion, his calloused hand dips down and rudely swats away your curious fingers.
And then Toji thumbs your pussy open to spit– once on your gaping pussy, once in your mouth. Tilting your stupid mouth shut with a flick to your chin and bottoming out.
Loooong and slow so that you can feel your dribbling nooks and crannies massage all down with the lightning bolts of his prodding veins. Such deep, magical spots he’s discovering just by hitting the juts of his hip bones to your front - just trying to fit his thick cock inside.
Smacking and smacking.
And was so fucking big. You can’t stop the tiny whimpers that leave you every time he’s funneling your pretty lil’ cunt with such a large, barreling length. Just the feeling of his hefty weight sagging your walls had your knees buckling, his tip reaching scorched insides only known to him.
Oh, it was all so familiar having his fat breeder balls nuzzling your sensitive lips, and with a content hum Toji rests the weight of his sweat-glossed abs down onto your front.
His spit-sheened lips hovering over the heated curve of your ear, whispering. “We’re gonna have the ngh- cutest kids, wifey.”
Toji claws one of his engulfing hands on the matted, bedraggled mess of your scalp, and you gasp at the twitch of his big, bulging biceps pushing you down. Fitted all the way to his fat hilt, and he’s still bucking and bucking.
“Oh- ohhhh fuck!” You wail with every plump pinprick of his geysering divot streaking out long lines of precum along your dewy wet walls. Wobbly legs pushing off the bed, “You’re so big- nghhh you’re so big.”
He’s cracking a lewd smile at the way you’re already running away from his rummaging stretches - and he hasn’t even started putting his back into it yet, seriously.
“C’mere, kitty kitty~” As if you could even think about running away from him. His own bloated cock stiffens at the way that lil’ nickname makes your glassy eyes widen, using the diversion swiftly to grip your throat and pull.
Spearheading your sap-soaked channel open until the four walls reverberated like an orchestra of your carnal squeals.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuck–! You’re in s-sooo deep–”
“Ya think that’s deep?”
Shit, your gaping drenched hole is gulping down so many barreling inches and he’s still pounding in more. More and more and more squeezing in past your tight muscle, and batting at the bullseye of your cute g-spot.
Trailing a hand over to poke where his bumpy tip was pressing pretty pecks on your sweetest spots, the crest of his shaft slips n’ slides until it reaches your spongy cervix to give a good, long prod.
“Ya loooove it here, huh?” He’s huffing, hips slamming into yours so hard that you could feel the ridden heat. You could see the blushing red stains where his fleshy mounds were papping against yours. Red n’ raw. “Can practically hear that k-kitty ngh- purring, mama.”
And Toji’s version of “purring” were those slimy wet splashes that emanated non-stop from your pussy. Ringing up and out so roughly that you couldn’t even wrap your cottony mind ‘round just how hard Toji was fucking you.
Like he hated you.
When it was anything but.
With a dark, quirked brow at the way your maw unfastens when he picks up speed. “Yeah? Yeah? Louder, mama, louder.”
Every hit was a homerun, precisely. Toji’s knees part your legs to crumble open so far apart that the muscles of your inner thighs burned. With both friction and stretch.
He looks down at you with a lipstick-stained smile, sexy even when he isn’t even trying to be. “Maaan, I m-missed this sight, my wife.” Huskily, he grips his way to your hips and manhandles you to thrust even deeper. “Missed this pussy— never been the s-same hck! without ya, sugar.”
Toji’s tenderly leaving the wholly bruising marks of his thickened digits all over your throat, making sure to pivot his hips so that your throbbing clit catches on his textured happy trail. Swervin’ to and fro right as he buries himself to the entire base. Pounding you open spaciously.
You’re molded oh-so-voluminously spread to take his exact hits that your jaw hangs agape, eyes woozily criss-crossing - and it wasn’t even the sex pollen that had you like this.
“Sh-shooo good—” You’re bawling out, and it’s so cute how your pussy dribbles even wetter when Toji bends his plank position to massage you with his washboard abs.
Juuust the way he knew you liked it.
A sheened layer of sweat transfers from Toji’s sultry, sliiiiding muscles to yours. Making those raggedly-run vocals of yours pitch into something broken while you ached out more n’ more of that deeply carnal scratch of his puffy bubble-gum pink nipples massaging your own tits. His toned pelvis batter-ramming away as he pleased.
He hits perfectly at your g-spot once more, honing in on it over and over until you’re left sputtering on the hammered glazes of drool that coats your dry mouth. “M-missed you- ngh! toooo–!”
One of your eager hands tug on one of his smooth, sensitive nub and Toji damn near cums. His mouth - oh, his scarred mouth was curving into the most accomplished smile.
Splotching your own sloppy lips - missing the gasping cavern of your mouth, purposefully. Just so Toji could watch the showy way his glob of spit splatters the ends of your twitchy maw, while he counted every plap plap plap.
“H-heh–” Though, the tips of Toji’s ears blush primally red. “Knew it. Knew ya missed- missed me…Probably couldn’t go a haaaah- second without thinkin’ of me, hmmm?”
Grumbling out something incoherent as he kisses the tender side of your neck, something along the lines of a pathetically pitched “C-cocky bast…ard.”
“Wha’s that now?” Free hand toying over your clit, other tightening on your neck.
“Fuh-f–”
“Fuuuuh–?” Toji’s naturally chiseled chest ripples as he keeps mocking you from above. And even the ridged curve of his heavy cock was drowning out your thoughts with utterly fuzzy cockdrunkenness.
It takes you a long while - and a vulgar few plaps of achingly hard, gloss-dribbling cock - for you to finally manage out. “F-fuck you.”
And ohhh, Toji Fushiguro isn’t a masochistic man - but hearing those rude words come out of your beautiful lips always did make his overworked hips shiver dangerously. Closely.
“I’m fucking you, mama.”
He was hot.
Soooo hot. Scalding you. Drilling into you like he was out of control— so hard that one-two-three slaps strike you in sloppy succession, almost every nanosecond. Pushing you further and further up the rickety headboard, swashing around the thick, milky cum snugly pumped inside you until you were dripping from the inside out.
Stupid enough to murmur out a thick, “Then c-cum- cum inside me–”
“Ohhh now you’re talkin’ outta ya fuuuck- pussy?” He’s gritting out, tense abdomen pinning you down further so all the chatty gusts of air leave your throat. “Shut up n’ cum f’me, wifey.”
And shit- Toji himself didn’t think that would fucking work like it used to.
Your poor, infatuated pussy still so deeply in love with him that they’re basically melding into the perfect heart shape inside when you reach your high.
Toji feels it first with the way your gluey-like walls cling onto his sensitive, plunging shaft like never before. Slouching forwards to sniff in your candied scent with a groan, “Atta girl. Aaaatta girl, jus’ like- like that- cum allll for your ngh! husband.”
You’re already so sensitive from your last high that this one hits you like five semi-trucks at once, and your head tumbles uselessly backwards into the silk-covered pillows. Vision blacking out near the edges - and all you can concentrate on was Toji Toji Toji.
This wasn’t even the sex pollen’s fault - you just needed him so bad.
“Inside- inside-”
“H-heh, my cockdrunk wife. If I c-cum ngh! inside m’reeeally gonna wife ya up.”
“T-Tooooji–!” It falls from your mouth as if a sinful mantra, and you’re hiccuping with every prominent vein of his cock rubbing the insides of your tense spots. Ramming. Pulsing. “Look- look at me.”
Toji could barely even flap his eyes open but oh, was he looking at you.
Through predatory, half-lidded eyes that devoured you. “Mhm— Toji’s here, Toji’s here. Your husband’s here, sugar.”
One of your hands slithers up to the sweat-wetted locks of his black hair, other caressing Toji’s left pectoral. To thumb your thick fingerpad over his rosy nipples, and to also feel the ba-dump–! of his rapidly increasing heartbeat. You’re mumbling into his plump lips, “You’re catnip to a g-girl like me. Wan’ you inside.” Nuzzling his flush scorched cheek, “I still hngh! love you, y’know-”
Fuck.
The syllables are barely dangling off of your slimy tastebuds before Toji’s finally finishing - inside you.
And it’s so sloppy.
If you thought that Toji was making a mess before, then this made you realize that he was - in fact - holding back. The strawberry end of his red, red shaft roaming your sodden walls until he knocks against the door to your womb and cums.
Straight As for his aim, a great dollop of buttery seed starts piling up right where your g-spot is. And your cute cunt is stretched out wiiide on the slathers of ribbony sap he pumps you full with.
Your walls spreeeead.
All the way to the brim. Your head starts spiralling at just how full you felt - you didn’t know it was even possible, and yet, here you were. The tummy bulge Toji was fucking from the inside only inflating bigger by the second, cute lil’ knots of cum swirled ‘round and ‘round by his swollen tip.
With a face burying right into the clammy crook of your neck, he’s hiding away the cherry blush on his cheekbones.
But you could already feel the thin trickle of drool spilling from either side of his parted mouth, feel Toji’s Adam’s apple rip with a whimper–
“S-still love you- too, mama.” He’s kneeing open your legs further to make sure you take every last drop. Breathless at the glued-together skin of your thighs, stained all creamy white with his seed. His own bulky thighs twitch whilst he bucked, all milking himself out. “Always- always have. Always will.”
You find the wet insides of your mouth sizzling by the time Toji’s wrung his tender, twitching balls free from every teensy tiny drop of cum he had to give your starving pussy.
Though, still rolling his hips lazily into yours, still pressing the damp skin of his forehead into your own– his calloused fingertips break apart from your neck to give the pearly dewdrops of juices pouring from your slit a lil’ smear.
Languidly trailing up, up, up until he cups that protruding bumpy outline - drawing an adorable heart out of his warmly slicked mess.
“N’- m’gonna- ngh- gonna love our d-daughter j-jus’ as much.” He’s whispering through a low, almost reverent tone. So sure it’s going to be a girl. His girl. His daughter. Both of yours. “She could be our Robin.”
Your heart swells, and you’re just about to breathe in Toji’s piney, sweetened smell you loved so much - until he plugs his candy-glazed fingers in his mouth to suck, before promptly reaching underneath the very pillow you were laid out on.
And within the blink of an eye, you’re staring at one of the biggest sparkly diamonds you’ve seen your entire life - your wedding ring. One to match his.
“Always kept ya c-close ta me, my wife.” Toji murmurs. Gently grasping your hands to slide the cool band onto your finger, while he still fucked you through the last few lecherous throes of his high.
His emerald, half-open eyes stare deeply into yours as the ring sits rightfully in its home after so long. His shaggy bangs falling over your own eyes, Toji connects his forehead with yours. “Always will.”
And you already knew that the sex pollen wasn’t long-lasting, that it was firmly and happily fucked out of your system.
Yet, you still partially blame it for the way it takes you all of two split-seconds to push Toji from his shoulders until his back hits the back with a springy whoosh! A surprised gasp retreating from his scarred lips, turning into a growl once he catches sight of the thiiiick oodles of cum that gushed down your legs. Doubly full.
“S’gonna hafta hah! take if we’re gonna have a daughter.” You’re musing, a greedy smirk playing on your lips.
Seating yourself down slowly, slowly, sensually to do an experimental figure eight on his overstimulated, ruby-red cock. Still so hard, but hitting your cervix with a line of wispy cum - just from seeing you like this.
What was it he said–? Ah yes, he always did like having you on top of him.
Toji interlocks your trembly fingers with his so that he could leave a loving peck on your clinking wedding rings. And you’re purring, “Better not tap out now, Batman.”
Yeahhh, he’s marrying you again tomorrow first thing. If you two make it alive by then, that is.
“W-wouldn’t dream of it, Catwoman.”
.
.
.
And then just about nine months later; when your darling baby boy, Megumi, is born- well, your overeager husband only sleazes that you try and try and try again. He always did want a big Bat Family.
A/N. TOLD Y’ALL I’D DO IT. Also my period started RIP send help.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fic#toji#toji fushiguro#tonywrites
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my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki
warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.
read part two
"suck my dick." "eat my ass."
you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.
it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,
and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.
you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.
"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."
"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.
you rolled your eyes.
"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."
and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.
ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.
that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.
you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.
the important file, you knew you had just printed it.
"looking for this?"
it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.
your stomach dropped. no fucking way.
"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."
"gi-give me that!"
he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.
you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.
the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.
"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."
your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.
ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...
very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.
your jaw dropped. "you-"
"i- i didn't-"
then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.
you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.
he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.
ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.
"let go!"
"not a chance."
he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.
you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.
he's still a guy after all.
your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,
you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.
the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.
the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.
like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.
ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.
you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.
"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.
"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.
"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.
you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.
ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.
he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.
you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.
and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?
so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.
you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.
maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.
ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.
"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."
yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.
your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.
ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.
you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.
and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.
ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.
"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.
his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.
"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."
ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.
"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."
and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.
the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.
ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"
his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.
your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.
you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.
"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.
and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.
his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.
he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.
...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.
you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.
then, he held something up between his fingers.
"can i keep these?"
your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.
you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.
he just laughed and shook his head.
maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.
next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.
your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.
ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.
your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."
he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.
then he caught you alone.
you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.
ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"
you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.
"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"
you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."
liar.
the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.
so what happened?
"remember, i still got the files."
you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.
he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."
"just bring it here!"
"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."
you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.
ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.
you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"
he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.
you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.
so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.
ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.
his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.
you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"
ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."
"how do i know you're not lying?"
he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.
"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."
you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.
his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.
the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.
your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"
ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.
he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.
your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.
his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.
his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.
you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.
you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.
you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.
and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.
you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,
"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.
and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.
you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.
ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.
"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.
"you were close, right?"
"you think you're funny?" he panted.
you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.
his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"
"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.
"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,
he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.
and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.
a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.
you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.
he really did a number on you.
"think we can handle another round here?"
now he had your cheek pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, his large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.
you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.
you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers kept slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.
"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.
the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.
next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.
your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.
"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.
you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."
he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.
"i gotta go home."
he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."
his hand slid over your thigh.
"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.
ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.
"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."
"you're not."
sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."
...but he can fuck you back to sleep.
ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.
"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."
later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.
your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.
a dog.
a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.
"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."
"your dog?"
"that's my child."
you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"
"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."
you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.
"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"
the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."
"excuse me?"
the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"
ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.
"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."
bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.
ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.
like actually smiling.
you swallowed hard, your face heating up.
was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?
the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?
it really doesn't feel real.
you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.
ni-ki looked at you, "what?"
you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."
ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."
and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.
a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader
masterlist: マスターリストm.list || my biggest opp part ii
taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao
#enhani ki fics !!#enhypen ff#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#nishimura riki#enhypen scenarios#ni ki#enha#enhypen niki#enhypen fic#enhypen nishimura riki#ni ki smut#nishimura riki smut#enha smut#niki smut#enhypen smut#kpop smut#ni ki scenarios#niki nishimura#enha nishimura riki#enha riki#riki nishimura x reader#enhypen riki#enhypen fluff#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enha x reader#ni ki x reader#enha reactions#enha scenarios
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dr dreamy | na jaemin
pairing: doctor!neighbor! na jaemin x fem.reader genre & wc: smut, fluff, crack (ish) | 18k summary: in which your infuriatingly hot neighbor ends up getting your box of sex toys delivered to his door by mistake content warning: explicit smut, breast play, oral sex (fem.receiving), brief mentions of sex toy usage, teasing, marking, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehaw), alcohol consumption, monster cawwwk jaemin (i didn’t make this up it’s real) a/n: hiiiii yes yes i know, it’s been forever and ive neglected you all so bad i’m so sorry ! i can’t even use the excuse of being too busy bc i was just in the worst writing slump of my life. but i hope i can make up for all those 10 months of radio silence with this long fic :) also it’s pretty different from what i’m used to writing. for once i wrote it all in lowercase bc i felt like this was lowkey a pretty unserious fic and that was the vibe it required lol it’s also my first time trying to write something “funny” but my humor is not that good still i tried lolz. also i'd like to add that i know as much about doctors as the next person so don't expect much accuracy in that regard. anyways hope you enjoy :)
read part two here
your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package.
"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest.
your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering.
"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?”
“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples.
“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.”
“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.”
“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.”
"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.
this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?
“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.”
she paused. “oh.”
you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room.
“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.”
“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?”
“i did not say that.”
“you did.”
“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.”
“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.”
“i’m hanging up.”
“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.
the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.
the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.
except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent.
you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.
as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.
three soft knocks.
your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him.
you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine.
but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.
you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he—
you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall.
a long pause.
“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite.
you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now.
"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.
you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake.
he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.
“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.”
he was so calm. too calm.
“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.
“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you.
you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.
“oh no-”
thud.
everything.
everything spilled out.
time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell.
boxes. bottles. wrappers.
and then the pièce de résistance.
a sex doll.
a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.
you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.
“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”
“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.
“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane.
you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.
a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.
"minnie." you said her name like a curse.
your phone buzzed. it was a text from her.
minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?
“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room.
you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?
♡ ♡ ♡
for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable.
the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment.
you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?
you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night.
“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone.
after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly.
“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch.
you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures.
you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low.
when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now.
you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon.
just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze.
you smelled him first.
that cologne. you’d know it anywhere.
your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive.
“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth.
“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you.
“y/n?”
shit.
you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.”
he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?”
you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?”
“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—”
he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair.
“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies.
he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.”
“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.”
“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?”
your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?
“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears.
he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.”
“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.
“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.”
“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster.
but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing.
darkness.
“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall.
“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?”
“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.”
he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to.
“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.”
“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food.
there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.
“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…”
no. absolutely not. this was not happening.
“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.”
“but i think we should—”
“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.”
he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?”
“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.”
“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused.
“same difference,” you muttered.
another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness.
“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.”
“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.”
he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.”
you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.”
he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.”
“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.”
“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning.
“you say that like it’s news.”
silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear.
“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?”
your whole face went hot.
“jaemin,” you warned.
“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.”
“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him.
he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.
"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly.
“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern.
“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours.
“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it.
he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.”
“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.”
“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him.
“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?”
your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life? the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck.
"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."
he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.”
he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.
“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence.
“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile.
“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.
he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating.
“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.”
“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.”
“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.”
“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.
“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth.
he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.
you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum.
by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.
♡ ♡ ♡
“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen.
“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.”
“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand.
“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.”
“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?”
you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”
“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”
“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.
“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”
“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.
you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”
“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”
“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”
“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.
your face went hot. so, so hot.
“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.
“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”
“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”
minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”
“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”
“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”
your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”
“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”
you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”
“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”
“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”
“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention. “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”
“you’re fully overreacting right now.”
one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.
“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”
“your point is..?”
“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”
“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.
“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”
“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.
“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.
“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”
“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”
“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”
“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”
“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.
“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.
“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”
“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”
“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.
“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.
you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.
delusional.
she was delusional.
but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.
you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.
nope.
you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.
♡ ♡ ♡
over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.
jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.
this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.
“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.
“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating.
but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.
and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?
he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."
the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.
“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”
you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”
“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”
“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.
“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."
you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.
you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"
“what do you mean?”
“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”
“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”
you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?
“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.
“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.
“no, i’m not.”
“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”
you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”
“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”
“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”
“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”
“that is not a thing.”
“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”
“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”
“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp.
checkmate.
you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering..
"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.
the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.
“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.
“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.
your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.
♡ ♡ ♡
things only got worse after that.
jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.
he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.
it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself, to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.
the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.
“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.
you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”
“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”
your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.
“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”
what does that even mean?!
your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.
jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”
“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.
“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”
you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”
“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.
“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.
“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.
“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”
“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.
you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.
“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.
“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.
“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.
you nearly slammed the door in his face.
“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.
“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.
you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.
“then i guess it’s just you.”
you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.
he’s the worst.
the absolute worst.
♡ ♡ ♡
then came the visiting.
you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.
you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…
when you opened the door, he was right there.
jaemin.
he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.
“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.
“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”
“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”
“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”
you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”
“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”
“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”
“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”
“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”
“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”
you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.
his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.
“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”
“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”
oh, this man.
“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”
“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.
it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.
your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.
“so annoying,” you muttered.
“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.
“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.
“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”
you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.
♡ ♡ ♡
thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.
“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.
“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.
“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”
“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.
he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.
“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.
you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.
he wasn’t grinning anymore. not exactly.
it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.
your heart stuttered before you could stop it.
“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.
his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.
“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,” he murmured.
you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.
so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.
he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.
♡ ♡ ♡
the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.
but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.
it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.
“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.
“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”
“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced.
“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”
“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”
“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”
“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.
“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”
“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”
“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.
“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.
“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest.
“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.
“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.
she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.
“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.
♡ ♡ ♡
you still ended up going out.
but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?
it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.
“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.
“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.
“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.
“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.
jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.
“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.
“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.
“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.
“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.
“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.
“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.
“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.
“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.
“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.
“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.
the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.
♡ ♡ ♡
“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”
“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.
“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.
“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”
“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.
“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”
“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”
“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”
“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.
“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.
“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.
“send him a picture,” jake suggested.
you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.
“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.
“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.
“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.
jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’
the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.
“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.
you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.
jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’
your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge.
“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.
♡ ♡ ♡
after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.
“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.
“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.
“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.
“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.
“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.
“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.
“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.
“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.
inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.
jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.
“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.
“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”
“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.
jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.
“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.
he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.
♡ ♡ ♡
in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater.
“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.
“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.
“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.
he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”
“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you.
you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol.
“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.”
“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach.
“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.”
“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?”
you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?”
“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look.
you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.
“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right.
he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?”
you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing.
“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.
there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier.
“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs.
you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one.
he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.”
“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared.
“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.”
you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.
your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.
“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch.
you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing.
calm down, y/n.
you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered.
jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.
he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble.
“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”
he disappeared into his room before you could respond
you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner.
of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym.
you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense.
“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal.
you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip—
“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava.
“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down.
“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.
“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!”
the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.
you froze.
oh.
oh my god.
if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.
“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs…
his abs.
your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice.
“oh my god.”
jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?”
“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.
he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened.
“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”
“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”
he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.
the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.
he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."
every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.
he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.
“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.
“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision.
he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?”
am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.
“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end.
“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”
“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.
“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.
you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.
“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”
“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”
he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”
“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”
there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.
“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.
“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.
as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.
“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.
walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.
“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”
the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.
“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.
except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.
you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.
“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.
when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.
“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.
“too big,” you said.
“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”
if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.
you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.
“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.
“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”
his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.
you did not win that fight.
instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.
he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.
his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.
“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”
good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.
his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.
“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.
“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.
lord, have mercy.
“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.
“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.
“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.
“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…
his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.
he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.
his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous.
because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.
he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.
his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder.
the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.
his hand slid up and up until…
he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.
“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.
and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.
you didn’t take it.
his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.
he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.
instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown.
and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.
“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.
his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.
you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”
he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.
he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.
“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.
the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?
he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips
“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.
you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.
“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.
“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.
it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.
your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.
his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder.
“look at you,” he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”
you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..
his lips were back on you in an instant, rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.
he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.
“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.
you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.
“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.
“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”
that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.
his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.
“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”
your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.
“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”
for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.
then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.
everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.
and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.
the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.
when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.
his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.
“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.
he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.
“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.
you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.
“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.
“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.
he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.
but you don’t. you won’t.
he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.
then he leans in.
his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.
he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.
and you are falling apart.
your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.
his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.
“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.
he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,
“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin.
“could stay here all night.”
the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.
he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.
“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.
your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.
“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.
“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.
“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.
“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.
“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.
and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back.
in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.
“not done with you yet,” he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.
“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.
he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom.
"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.
"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.
he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long.
jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.
you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened.
"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."
his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?"
then his boxers hit the floor.
oh.
your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.
“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”
"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"
“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.
“you know what.”
“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”
you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.
“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”
he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.
“fuck me. please.”
he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.
your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.
“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.
your heart swelled at the care in his voice.
you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.
he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”
“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him.
his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back
"good girl," he murmured.
he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.
his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.
the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore.
"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.”
“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended.
he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper.
the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.
“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.
“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him.
“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him.
“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.
"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.
the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle.
"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me."
“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper.
“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?"
you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him.
his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter.
you were close… so, so close.
but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.
the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust.
“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?”
you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.
“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels."
“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”
“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me."
your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body.
“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.”
he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core.
you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.
“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.
you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back.
“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”
“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands.
“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.
“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.”
his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.”
the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly.
“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away.
“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.
you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely.
“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.
you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.
“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.
“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest.
“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow.
his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once.
“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”
you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips.
“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.
“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—”
“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?”
he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising.
“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.”
you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.
“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.
“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”
you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”
“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”
“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”
his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”
“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”
“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”
part two
my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic!! thank you<3
#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct imagines#nct smut#nct dream fic#nct jaemin#na jaemin#jaemin x you#jaemin x reader#jaemin moodboard#jaemin imagine#jaemin fic#jaemin smut#jaemin fanfic#jaemin#nct dream smut#nct fanfic#nct#nct dream x you
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⋆˚🐾˖°𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 🐕 COSMIC LEASH ?!
⋆⑅˚ paring : zayne, rafayel, sylus, xavier & caleb x puppy fem!reader
⋆⑅˚ synopsis : Trapped between them, you whimper as they tug on your leash, making it clear you’re nothing but their obedient little pet for the night.
⋆⑅˚ warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, size kink, humiliation kink, leash play, hair pulling, chocking, spanking, gagging, dacryphilia, nipple teasing, dacryphilia, rough s*x, power play, dom & sub dynamic, light degradation, overstimulation & other stuff!
⋆⑅˚ note : banner art by @/rororo_mg on X , also not proof read really sorry ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა ! Also dunno if this was ooc for rafayel 🧍🏻♀️
.- 𝒵𝒜𝒴𝒩ℰ (the best fucker?!)
Zayne’s grip on the leash tightens as he yanks you forward, the collar around your neck pulling you closer to him. You can feel the tension in your body—both the leash and the anticipation tightening in your core. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam as he moves behind you, his hand brushing over your tits, squeezing them roughly before dipping down to grasp your clit between his fingers. You moan, but the sound is cut off when he pulls the leash hard, choking you just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Such a good girl,” he growls, his cock already hard and pressing against your back, his body looming over you. His hands move to your nipples next, pinching and pulling them until you’re gasping, knees weak. His fingers circle your pussy, teasing at your entrance before sliding in with brutal ease. “Look at you, all needy and wet, just for me.”
The sensation of him deep inside you makes your eyes water, a mix of pleasure and pain as the leash pulls tighter, forcing your head back. His hands on your tits grow rougher, his cock pushing deeper with every thrust. You can feel the sting of his choke, the suffocating pressure making you dizzy as he pounds into you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. Your puppy eats flattening as you whined.
“Z-Zayne—” your voice catches as the leash jerks tight again, cutting off your words. Your hands tremble where they rest against the floor, barely keeping you upright as he keeps you in place, his cock stretching your pussy with every deep, ruthless thrust.
“What? Can’t speak?” His voice is low, teasing, and cruelly amused as he watches your lashes flutter, your breath hitching from the pressure on your throat. “Poor little puppy. Just let me fuck you dumb, yeah?”
You whimper, nodding quickly, cheeks burning with shame. It’s too much—his cock is thick, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, and his hands won’t stop playing with your tits, squeezing them, rolling your nipples between his fingers like he’s trying to make you cry.
“Sensitive here too,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue over a hardened bud before sucking it into his mouth. You gasp, your back arching, ears twitching as his teeth graze you. It’s embarrassing how loud you are, how easily you melt under his touch. You try to stifle a moan, but Zayne just tugs the leash tighter, forcing another strangled sound from your throat.
“You're shaking.” He groans against your skin, his lips hot against your tits as he nips at them, sucking harder. “Gonna cum already? That desperate?”
You shake your head frantically, but the way your pussy clenches around his cock betrays you. He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your wrecked expression—eyes glassy, lips parted, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.
“Cute,” he murmurs. “Now be a good puppy and cum for me.”
Then he thrusts in harder, tightening the leash just enough to steal your breath, and you break—crying out as your body seizes up, pleasure slamming through you in waves. Your walls clamp down around his cock, your clit throbbing, and Zayne groans as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.
Zayne doesn’t stop—not when your body shakes, not when your pussy clenches down so tight around his cock it feels like you’re trying to keep him inside. If anything, he seems to enjoy watching you struggle, the way your small frame trembles under the weight of him, your breath coming in short, choked gasps as he tugs on the leash again.
“Still so fucking tight,” he groans, dragging his cock out of your drenched cunt just to slam it back in, making you cry out. “You can barely take me, puppy. Look at you—your little pussy’s stretched around me, and I’ve barely fucked you properly.”
Your ears twitch at the humiliation, your cheeks burning. He’s right—his cock is too big, stretching you wide, filling you so deep it makes your stomach bulge with every thrust. You’re dizzy from the way he’s handling you, his grip unrelenting, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
You try to speak, try to beg for mercy, but all that comes out is a broken moan. Zayne chuckles darkly, gripping your jaw and forcing your mouth open. “That's it. Keep your mouth nice and wide for me.”
Then he shoves his fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, making you gag as he fucks into you even harder. Your eyes flutter, throat constricting as you choke around his fingers, drool spilling past your lips. He watches with a smirk, his other hand keeping your leash tight, his cock still slamming deep into your soaked pussy.
“Fuck, you're so cute like this,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out just to smear your spit over your lips before gripping your chin. “So dumb and messy for me.”
You can only whimper, body shuddering under the overwhelming sensations—the size of him splitting you open, the leash cutting into your throat, the way he manhandles you like you’re nothing but his little plaything. Your legs tremble as another orgasm creeps up, and Zayne notices immediately, his cock twitching inside you.
“Gonna cum again?” His voice is a low, mocking growl. “Go on, puppy. Cum while I ruin this tight little cunt.”
Then he slams in deeper, and you break all over again—gagging, sobbing, your body convulsing around him as he fucks you through it, his grip on your leash never loosening.
.- ℛ𝒜ℱ𝒜𝒴ℰℒ (gentle but rough?!)
Rafayel holds the leash firmly, tugging just enough to make you stumble closer to him. His gaze is sharp, glowing with that cold, unreadable intensity—but there’s something else beneath it, something almost indulgent as he watches your small puppy tail wag despite the tremble in your thighs.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, one large hand stroking down your back before gripping your ass. His touch lingers, fingers pressing into the soft flesh before he suddenly spanks you—hard. The sharp crack echoes through the room, and you yelp, body jerking forward.
“R-Rafayel—!” Your voice breaks into a whimper, your puppy ears twitching as you press your thighs together. The sting of his slap spreads through you, heat pooling between your legs, and your tail wags again—completely betraying you.
Rafayel chuckles, low and amused, before giving you another sharp slap on the ass, making you jolt. “You like it,” he muses, tugging the leash so you’re forced to arch your back, your tits hanging as he positions you just how he wants. “Such a needy little thing.”
His fingers trace over your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your breath hitch. “I should make you beg,” he mutters, watching as your small frame trembles under his touch, as your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for him. “But you’re already crying.”
You are crying—small, shaky sobs spilling from your lips, overwhelmed by how big he is, how much stronger, how easily he handles you. The humiliation only makes it worse, your face burning as he strokes your cheek, his thumb wiping away your tears.
"Poor puppy," he murmurs, though there’s no real pity in his voice. “Is it too much?”
You shake your head frantically, afraid he’ll stop. “N-no! Please—”
He cuts you off with a sharp tug of the leash, forcing your back to arch even further. “Then take it.”
And then he’s inside you, stretching you open with one deep, slow thrust. Your mouth falls open, a broken moan spilling out as his cock fills you completely, pushing in so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach.
"Fuck," Rafayel groans, his hands gripping your hips as he stills, letting you adjust to his size. His fingers flex, like he’s barely restraining himself. “You’re so—” He exhales sharply, pulling out just enough before slamming back in, making you choke on your own moan.
His thrusts are rough despite the way he holds you, each movement knocking you forward, making your tits bounce with every deep stroke. His hand comes down on your ass again, the stinging heat only adding to the pleasure, and you sob into the sheets, your small puppy tail wagging wildly behind you.
He notices, because of course he does. A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest as he grips the base of your tail, stroking it slowly. "So cute," he murmurs, his tone almost tender—right before he tugs the leash hard, forcing your back to arch as he slams in deep.
Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock as you cry out, your body giving in completely. Rafayel groans, his pace growing rougher, more desperate, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.
“Cum for me, puppy,” he orders, voice firm but laced with something softer, something only for you.
And you do—your body shattering as pleasure crashes through you, your pussy squeezing his cock so tight it forces a deep groan from him. He doesn't stop, fucking you through your orgasm, gripping your leash, your tail, your hips like he owns you, and it only makes you fall apart even harder.
.-𝒮𝒴ℒ𝒰𝒮 (big size kink?!)
You barely have time to catch your breath before you're being pulled into Sylus’s lap, the leash in his hand tightening just enough to make your body jolt. His sheer size alone makes you feel small—his broad chest, strong arms, and the way his thick cock presses against your trembling thighs. You look up at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and he smirks, tilting your chin up with two fingers.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rich and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “So tiny compared to me… and yet, you think you can take all of me?"”
You swallow hard, your ears twitching as you nod shyly. But Sylus just chuckles, wrapping the leash around his wrist and pulling you forward until your tits press against his bare chest. “You're shaking,” he points out, his large hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Maybe I should stretch you out first. Don't want my lil’ pet breaking too soon.”
A whimper escapes your lips as he lifts you with ease, positioning you over his cock. His size is intimidating, the thick head pressing against your soaked entrance, stretching you open inch by inch. Your walls struggle to take him, your tiny body barely accommodating his girth, and you whine, gripping his shoulders.
“S-Sylus—t-too big—“
He groans at your weak little protest, his grip on your leash tightening. “Shh, you can take it,” he soothes, though his voice is thick with hunger. "You're made for this, aren't you? My pretty little puppy, all stretched around my cock."
Your breath stutters as he lowers you further, his cock sinking deep into your cunt, making your tummy bulge slightly from the sheer size of him. You whimper at the overwhelming fullness, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and Sylus groans, gripping your ass to keep you still.
“Fuck,” he breathes, watching the way your pussy struggles to take him. “You're so fucking tight. Gonna have to train you to take me properly.”
Your fingers dig into his skin as he suddenly yanks the leash, pulling you flush against him, forcing his cock even deeper. You choke on a moan, your body clenching around him, overwhelmed by the sheer stretch. Sylus only smirks, his hand moving to your tummy, pressing down slightly.
“Feel that?” he murmurs. “That's me, buried so deep inside this lil’ pussy. Can't run from it now, sweetheart.”
You shake your head frantically, overwhelmed, but he just leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now, be a good girl and ride me.”
You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling as you try to adjust to his sheer size. Every inch of him stretches you past your limit, making you feel impossibly small compared to him. The collar around your neck feels heavier now, especially when Sylus gives the leash another firm tug, forcing you to meet his gaze. His red eyes burn with amusement and hunger.
“What's wrong?” he taunts, his grip tightening on your hips. “Too much for my little puppy?”
You shake your head quickly, even though your body is already struggling to move. Your thighs ache, your pussy throbbing from the overwhelming stretch of his cock, but you still try to lift yourself, only to sink back down with a broken moan.
Sylus groans, his hands flexing against your ass before delivering a sharp slap to it. “Struggling already?” His voice is thick with satisfaction. “Guess I’ll have to help.”
Before you can respond, he tightens his grip and begins lifting you himself, forcing you to bounce on his cock. Each motion has you gasping, your pussy clenching down around his thick length as he guides you with ease.
“Fuck, look at you,”he murmurs, watching the way your tiny body struggles to take him. His hand presses against your stomach again, feeling the way his cock fills you. LSo damn small. You're barely able to handle me, but you're still trying so hard.”
You whimper, your ears twitching as you shyly bury your face against his chest. But Sylus only chuckles, tugging on your leash, forcing you to sit up straight again.
“Don't get shy on me now,” he growls, his other hand gripping your jaw. “I wanna see that pretty face while I wreck this tight little pussy.”
His thrusts grow rougher, your moans turning into desperate cries as he uses the leash to keep you in place. His cock slams into you with each movement, stretching you wide, making it impossible to think about anything except how deep he is inside you. Your walls flutter around him, another orgasm creeping up fast, your legs shaking from the intensity.
“S-Sylus—” you gasp, gripping his wrists, overwhelmed.
He smirks, pulling you down onto his cock one last time before holding you there, his grip keeping you locked in place. “Go on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your lips. “Cum for me.”
And with one more harsh tug on your leash, you break—your pussy clamping down, body shaking violently as pleasure crashes over you. Sylus groans as he fucks you through it, his cock twitching, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.
“That's my good girl,” he growls, pulling your leash tighter as he slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as possible before spilling inside.
Your breath stutters as you feel the warmth of his cum flooding you, his thick cock keeping every drop inside. The leash loosens slightly, and Sylus pulls you against his chest, his large hands rubbing slow circles over your trembling thighs.
“You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
.-𝒳𝒜𝒱ℐℰℛ (fuck boy?!)
You barely have time to recover before Xavier forces you onto all fours, the leash tightening around your throat as he tugs you into position. His grip is firm, his touch almost lazy as he runs a hand down your spine, appreciating how small you look beneath him.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice. “On your hands and knees, just like a good little puppy should be.”
Your ears twitch, heat rushing to your face as you shyly press your cheek against the mattress. His teasing always gets to you, making you whimper, making you squirm, but he only chuckles, rolling his hips against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he is.
"Already soaked," he muses, dragging his fingers through your folds, spreading the slickness. “Are you really that desperate?”
You whine, embarrassed, but your body betrays you—your pussy clenching around nothing, aching for him. Xavier hums, amused, before gripping the base of the leash and pulling your head up.
“Use your words,” he purrs. "Tell me what you need, puppy."
Your breath hitches, your thighs trembling. “Y-you…!”
“Me what?” His tone is mocking, his free hand moving between your legs, fingers barely brushing your swollen clit. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
You squirm, your body pushing back against him instinctively. "N-need your cock, please!"
“Good girl,” he praises, and before you can even brace yourself, he’s pushing in.
The stretch burns in the best way, his thick cock splitting you open inch by inch, forcing your body to take him. Your mouth falls open, a choked moan escaping as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back slightly before snapping his hips forward again, making you jolt. “You're so fucking tight. Can barely even take me.”
You let out a weak whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as he sets a punishing pace. Each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, his cock hitting deep, making your legs tremble. The leash tightens again, pulling your head back, arching your spine even more.
“You look so pretty like this,” he murmurs, his free hand sliding under your body, groping your tits. “Face down, ass up, struggling to handle my cock.”
Your cheeks burn, your body tingling from the mix of humiliation and pleasure. You try to bury your face in the sheets, but Xavier clicks his tongue, tugging on the leash again.
“Ah, ah. Don’t hide from me,” he scolds. “I want to see every little expression when you cum all over my cock.”
His pace grows rougher, his grip firmer, using the leash to keep you exactly where he wants you. Your pussy flutters around him, the overwhelming stretch, the deep thrusts, the way he manhandles you—it’s too much.
“I can feel you squeezing me,” Xavier groans. “Go ahead, puppy. Make a mess for me.”
And with one last sharp thrust, you break—your body shuddering, your pussy tightening around his cock as you cum hard, moaning his name. Xavier doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own high until he slams into you one last time, spilling inside.
He stays there for a moment, his cock still buried deep, the leash still taut in his grip. Then, with a lazy smirk, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “But I think you’ve got a few more rounds in you.”
.-𝒞𝒜ℒℰℬ (hottest fuck?!)
Caleb doesn’t waste time. The moment he gets his hands on you, he’s yanking you into his lap, the leash wrapped tightly around his fist. His cock is already hard, pressing insistently against your soaked folds, and his free hand grips your waist, holding you steady.
“You've been passed around like a fucktoy all night, huh?” he muses, his voice carrying that usual teasing lilt, though there's something darker underneath. His fingers dig into your hips as he grinds against you, making you whimper. “And yet, you're still dripping for me. Such a greedy little thing.”
You whine, ears twitching as you shyly avoid his gaze, but he just chuckles, tugging the leash to make you face him.
“Don’t get all shy on me now, puppy,” he coos, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”
Your breath stutters, your thighs trembling as you nod. “Y-yes…”
“Then be good and take me.”
Before you can brace yourself, Caleb lifts you effortlessly, positioning you over his cock. The thick head presses against your entrance, forcing you to stretch around him inch by inch. You let out a broken moan, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping onto him for support.
“F-fuck, Caleb—”
“Shh, you can handle it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your ear. “I know you can.”
He guides you down, making sure you take every inch of him. The stretch is overwhelming, the sheer size of him making your body struggle to accommodate. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls fluttering as you try to adjust, but Caleb only groans, his grip on your waist tightening.
“Fuck, you're so damn tight,” he growls, his voice rough. “Like this little cunt was made to take my cock.”
You let out a whimper, overwhelmed, and he smirks, tugging on the leash again. “You like that, don’t you?”
You nod weakly, too lost in the pleasure to respond properly. But Caleb isn’t satisfied with that—he grips your hips and lifts you before slamming you back down onto his cock, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.
“That's better,” he praises, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Now, keep going. I wanna see you bounce on my cock like the perfect little pet you are.”
Your body moves on instinct, your thighs burning as you start to ride him, his cock stretching you over and over again. Caleb watches you with hooded eyes, his smirk widening as he tugs on the leash, keeping you under his control.
“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to where you’re impaled on his cock. “Bet you’re close already, huh?”
You nod frantically, your body trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening with every movement. Caleb chuckles, his grip tightening as he meets your movements with rough thrusts.
“Then cum for me, puppy. Show me how much you love being used.”
With one last sharp tug on the leash, you shatter—your pussy clamping down around him, your vision going white as you cry out his name. Caleb groans, fucking you through your orgasm, his cock twitching inside you before he buries himself deep, spilling inside.
He holds you there, panting slightly, his hands rubbing soothing circles against your hips. Then, with a lazy smirk, he leans in, his breath warm against your lips.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “But don’t think we’re done just yet.”
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#blueberrisdove#lnds#lnds sylus#lnds caleb#lnds zayne#lnds rafayel#lnds xavier#lnds x reader#lnds smut#sylus smut#caleb smut#zayne smut#rafayel smut#xavier smut#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x reader#caleb x you#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#xavier x reader#xavier x you#love and deep space#lads smut
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Beat Your Heart to Death
tw: explicit content, extremely toxic dynamics. gojo/geto, gojo/reader, geto/reader, and yes, stsg/reader. female!reader. mutual pining, requited unrequited feelings, the yearning, good god, the YEARNING. relatively unwilling voyeurism. EXTREMELY manipulative dynamics – boundary pushing, gaslighting, etc.
satoru and suguru are completely fucking deranged. their brains are operating on a level where human consciousness and emotion just hits different. they say INSANE shit at the end of this fic. you have been warned.
Sequel: Heartline Gone Flat

This must be what dying feels like.
You watch them, together. Leaning against one another, sleeping, vulnerable. Curled up in each other's embrace.
This must be what dying feels like. Seeing the man you love and the man you lust for, so painfully, peacefully, blissfully in love with each other.
If this is dying, you're surely going to hell for thinking something so awful about a feeling so beautiful.
It’s the sort of thing you think to yourself, bury deep – deep – inside the recesses of your mind. Dredging it out in the late hours of the night when you can’t sleep. Wallowing in your unrequited love, feeling sorry for yourself, while also comforting yourself with the thought that at least now you didn’t have to do anything.
You would never have to approach your longtime crush, Suguru Geto, and potentially ruin your friendship with him. It was something you’d struggled with for years, and after Gojo showed up – you didn’t have to struggle anymore. It was already lost.
And the insane twists your fantasies would play out for you, in those lonely nights in bed – you could be free of those, too. You could completely dismiss the insane idea of propositioning the man-whore menace of a human being who made your heart race, Satoru Gojo.
Satoru and Suguru loved each other, and it would be wrong to get in the way of that. At this point, even saying anything to either of them would be a trespass on your friendship, with both of them.
That was all there was to it. Nothing more to be done. You were mourning your feelings. Strangling your dreamy sighs at Suguru’s kind gestures, stomping the flutter in your chest when you caught Satoru smiling. Killing your heart and leaving it to rot, stepping around it like it’s not there.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the fact that all three of you lived together.
It doesn’t help that Satoru is just as prone to PDA with Suguru as he was with all his numerous hookups. More, even, because he doesn’t keep it to just his bedroom, doesn’t make the token efforts to stay quiet at night and shoo them out in the morning.
You do your best. Look away. Try to ignore how your heart jumps, twists, does all sorts of funny things at the sight of them kissing.
Satoru’s pretty white lashes flutter closed, Suguru’s warm gaze softens, cheeks flushed as Satoru’s hands jump up to cling to him. He cups Satoru’s face like it’s a treasure, tilting his head and leaning into the kiss like he can’t get enough of it –
You’re staring, fuck. You’re looking too closely. The scene burns itself into your eyes and you want to rip them out, never see it again. But you struggle to avert your gaze, greedy mind committing every detail to memory with a racing heart, dry mouth.
Thirsty, you’re so thirsty, in every sense of the word. They lean into each other, so in sync and so affectionate in a way that tugs on your every heart string. Fuck!
You start to just leave the room when it happens. You’d rather die than get caught staring, you’d rather go without water than thirst for droplets.
And you’d really, really, rather cut your fucking eyes out than face the feelings the sight awakens in you. Longing, yearning, how you want to tear them both off each other at once, how you want to see more, more, more, you want to touch, you want to taste –
God, fuck. You’re like one of those shitty girls who fetishizes male relationships. Aren’t you? You feel like this might be that. But you’re attracted to both of them individually, so it can’t be that, right? You’re not a creep, you’re just greedy. You leave the room when they kiss! You’re respecting their privacy!
They notice, though, is the thing. Not your staring (god you fucking hope they’ve never noticed the staring) but how you leave the room when they get affectionate with each other. It’s Suguru who pulls you aside to ask.
“…and listen, I know you’re not like that, I totally know, so does Satoru. It just… makes him feel a little weird, you know? He was raised by a traditional family, so they either think this is a phase, or call him disgusting to his face.”
Fuck your life. Actually fuck your ENTIRE life. “Of course not – I never – ”
“No no no, I know, I told you, he does too, it’s just – it’s a little disconcerting for him. But I can talk to him, make him understand. This is your house, too, you have the right not to see that sort of stuff.”
That just makes you feel a bit worse, actually. Satoru and Suguru shouldn’t have to hide away in their room whenever they want to kiss. It’s their own home.
“I’m sorry, Suguru, I – I don’t have any problem with you guys doing it around the house. I just…” You shift uncomfortably. “I’m not super comfortable with… PDA sort of stuff. It has nothing to do with you both being guys.”
Suguru nods, “No, I understand completely. Satoru will be disappointed, but you’re setting boundaries, and I respect that – ”
“It’s not that,” You say, “I – you can do whatever you like, really, I’ll just leave – ”
“No,” Suguru interrupts with a sigh, “That’s what’s bothering him. I think deep down he’s a little worried that you find it… disturbing.”
Your chest tightens with anxiety as you rush to reassure him, “Of course I don’t!”
“No, I know, I know, we both do,” Suguru says in that warm, comforting voice of his, “It’s just how he feels – you know he can’t control that.”
And then your stupid mouth rushes ahead of you. Writes a check your heart can’t afford to cash.
“It’s fine! You don’t have to stop, I. Just… tell him I felt like I was intruding. I didn’t think he saw it as me being disgusted.”
And your heart will pay willingly, because Suguru gives you that smile. Warm and affectionate. The smile you’d fallen in love with.
“You’re not intruding at all. I’ll tell him you said so, it’ll be a great weight off his mind.”
So now the love of your life makes out with his boyfriend and you can’t even leave the room. Hahah. God. Maybe you should start thinking of a way to move out?
Problem: When Satoru moved in, he’d basically started paying all the bills. He didn’t have to worry about being cut off from the family money – even at his young age, he had his own financial success. Even if it started out with a few trust funds and an appointed position at one of his parent’s companies.
Every rent listing looked expensive when your current rate was “free”. And fuck, rent was expensive. You’d have to deal with other roommates, people you didn’t know (and love) as long as Suguru (and Satoru, at this point, you’d known him for years), and you’d be paying for the privilege.
You try, oh, do you ever try to get over it. Sexuality is fluid, after all, so it’s perfectly possible that Satoru and Suguru just ended up being gay. Being with either of them may never have been an option, except maybe as one of Satoru’s flings.
And wouldn’t that just suck? To have one night with Satoru only to watch him realize he’s gay and mutually in love with your longtime crush? Better to never sleep with him at all. You can’t miss something you’ve never had. And you wouldn’t want to be a fling anyways.
The thought stings more than it should, because deep down –
(You’d take it. You know you’d take it. That’s why you’re still here, really, under all the excuses. You’re fucking pathetic, pining for both of them. You’d take anything you could get.)
It doesn’t help that they get freer with their affections after your talk with Suguru. Looser. So unrestrained. You walk in on them fucking in the living room, having come back early from class, face burning up as you stand there stock still for a moment.
They don’t stop, or freak out, or cover themselves or anything. You see Suguru’s naked chest above the couch, Satoru’s hands pinned over the armrest of it, their bare legs and feet entwined and sticking over the other side of the couch. They’re both so fucking tall.
So beautiful. Satoru moans so pretty, and you hear Suguru purr, low and filthy, “Like that, you little whore?” and you feel yourself clenching all the way to your core.
You make a wild dash across the living room, staying on the other side of the couch so they can’t see you. Closing the door to your bedroom as quickly and quietly as you can, panting to yourself, feeling the heat rising on your face and the warm pulse between your legs.
(Pathetic, fucking pathetic. It’s like you’re actually some horny teenage boy with a crush on a pretty girl out of his league, rubbing one out every time you see her with her equally hot girlfriend.)
You’ve got to get ahold of yourself.

Your routine has changed, with the both of them being together, so openly. There were little things you’d shared, now gone, lost to the unfathomable whirlpool that was their relationship.
Used to be you’d buy sweets on grocery trips to share with Satoru. It was an old habit of yours, and when he’d first moved in, he’d caught you with them. Reaching for some with a grin before you smacked him away.
The look he gave you, a slow smirk before he went all wide-eyed and pleading, staggering to his knees like a proper starving drama queen – god, he had to know how he’d made your heart flutter. He probably pulled that on so many people.
Still, he would eat the candies right out of your hand, lips just teasing on your fingertips, eyes lingering on you while he licked his lips. It made you feel weird, at first, but you eventually realized that Satoru was just a weird guy.
He’d yawn and stretch and if he caught you or Suguru watching he’d flash his whole chest, like a girl flashing her tits. He slept naked and left the bathroom door open when he was using it, and he’d often knock when on your bathroom when you were in there, even if he had his own.
He had about ten different game consoles and games for them, plus a huge collection of movies, which he likes to watch with the room completely dark. He sleeps with a nightlight on, and his social media picture is an ugly picture of him from high school with these weird round sunglasses.
Not at all what you expected from a pretty boy like him. But Satoru’s eccentric charm, and the unstoppable allure of his perfect face and body, it rewired your brain somehow. You feel like you’ve wanted him for as long as you’ve known him.
You try to find other people. But the problem with living with Satoru and Suguru is that no one is up to your standards. You’ll never meet anyone as handsome or beautiful as either of them, so why bother?
In your defense, Suguru is hard to fall out of love with.
It’s not uncommon to wake up to the sound of your favorite breakfast being cooked while Suguru hums away in the kitchen, his pretty hair all tied back. If you sneak in quietly enough you can catch a tender smile on his face, the smell of freshly ground and brewed coffee he makes for Satoru in some expensive machine.
If you are unlucky, he’ll catch you, and that smile will grow as soon as his eyes are on you and you’ll fall in love all over again. If you’re lucky, you can sneak back away, but Suguru will eventually come and wake you up with a knock so gentle you suspect he already knows you’re up.
He shares his hair care routine, and it leaves your hair shiny and lovely. But your hair isn’t exactly like his, so he must have adjusted it.
He offers to help you brush or style it, himself, and asks you if you wouldn’t mind repaying the favor. Like you wouldn’t kill or die for the honor of running your hands through his silken locks.
Suguru is the type of guy who remembers when you get your period and asks if you need anything for it. You magically find your favorite fruits in the fridge, cut up, dipped in chocolate or caramel or yoghurt, however you like them best.
He does your laundry without being asked because he says it’s easier, and cleans dishes before you can get to them.
Every birthday he throws you a party, bakes a cake and he’ll spend hours to perfect a meal from scratch to go along with it. He’s perfect at finding a thoughtful present – Satoru just gives you cash, or some expensive luxury purchase you find fashionable but would never buy for yourself (Suguru definitely went shopping with him).
You get why Satoru likes him. Satoru’s sort of a slob, always leaving clothes on the floor – walking around shirtless like he knows exactly what it does to anyone watching “Just providing a public service, babe~” – and Suguru is so perfectly domestic.
Almost motherly. Whenever you misplace something, the fastest way to find it is invariably to ask Suguru, if he doesn’t approach you first with a concerned smile after watching you look.
After enough times catching Suguru sternly chide him for not putting away his clothes, leaving wrappers on the table, forgetting to put his shoes away; you’re relatively sure Satoru’s called him mom or mommy at some point. Possibly during sex.
And god, you get it. Those gentle tones of “Is everything all right?”, and “I tweaked the recipe, how do you like it?” and “I’m just really happy you enjoyed it.”, it’s enough to make your heart ache.
How, exactly, are you supposed to fall out of love with Suguru Geto?
How are you supposed to leave, how are you supposed to want to, especially when you swear you hear him call himself Daddy, and you find your face getting hotter than it should be.
Whispering to Satoru how “I’ve got you, baby,” and “Let Daddy take care of you, mhhm?”
And god, the high-pitched whimpers Satoru makes in response. He’s a tall guy, mewling, melting beneath Suguru’s hands, his words, his cock – and you could so easily imagine yourself in his place –
How are you supposed to be platonic about this?
How are you supposed to stop touching yourself when they’re practically putting on personalized porn shows for you?
It's after the third time that you start to think they're doing this on purpose.
Whatever’s between them is something you just couldn’t understand. You get that, you do.
The way they look into each other’s eyes – there’s no way Suguru has ever looked at you like that, no way Satoru would ever want you that badly.
It’s something magnetic that makes them slot together at all times, draws their gazes to one another, leaves no room for anyone else –
But you stumble on them… a lot.
Never mind making out on the couch. You turn into the laundry room to see Satoru backed against the washer machine, his cock so far Suguru’s throat you can see it bulge.
His face is flushed, eyes teary, one hand loosely in Suguru’s hair while he whimpers. Dark eyes gazing up at him, fierce, Adam’s apple bobbing and another noise escaping him.
Or Satoru’s sitting rather innocently in Suguru’s lap, at a certain angle, but the sounds he’s making are less than innocent. Vile, even. Suguru’s broad hand wrapped around Satoru’s cock, pumping up and down, Satoru’s body shifting as you can tell he’s grinding down against something below.
And sometimes it’s really just the noises. You’ve heard them so often now it feels like you can put expressions to every moan and grunt and whimper and whine. Satoru makes a certain sort of gasp and your imagination jumps to think of how deep Suguru must be inside him, how his pretty face must look, twisted in pleasure.
They come back sometimes, from parties, drunk together. Leaning on one another like they could never lean on you – you’re not tall, not built like either of them are. Cheeks flushed as they whisper words into one another’s ears, Satoru giggling, kissing his cheek, Suguru laughing and squeezing his waist as they stumble into their room.
Like they’re in their own little world that you could never intrude on. You just catch glimpses every now and then. They don’t even look at you, it’s like you’re not even there – their eyes are locked on one another.
But that isn’t the worst of it.
Satoru and Suguru start bringing other people in.
No - they start bringing other girls into it. Like it's a punishment for catching them, only, you're fairly certain they wanted to be caught.
Satoru’s never been shy when he had a girl over, about walking around shirtless – maybe it’s an exhibitionism thing. And you’re someone they know well, someone tolerant (pathetic) enough to not say anything.
Either that or they’re both just that good at pretending you aren’t there. But they talk to you, all the time. You eat meals together, have movie nights (if you ignore how Satoru will not-so-discreetly put his hand on the inside of Suguru’s thigh while you’re all sitting together), grocery shop together, smile and laugh and share things about your day.
It’s just that they’re also dating each other. And in love, so in love, it’s painfully obvious that there’s no room for anyone else between them. Which makes the girls they bring over turn your stomach even more.
Sure, they’re one night stands. But they don’t even try to keep it quiet. You hear unfamiliar, high-pitched moans and whimpers, a wet smacking sound that has to be Satoru overdramatically eating pussy.
You wonder what his face looks like. What his eyes look like. Is he staring up at her when she does it? Does she have a hand in the feather-down softness of his hair? Or maybe Suguru’s hand, shoving him forward, that sly smirk that creeps over his lips when you’ve seen his eyes grow dark with want.
Is she whimpering because she’s close? Do they tease her, edging her, enjoying the expressions on her face, the way her body trembles? When she begs, is it for them to stop, or keep going? Whose dick is it inside her? Satoru’s, Suguru’s? What does it feel like? Satoru’s stupid enough to do it without a condom but Suguru isn’t.
What are they doing when she cums? You hear Suguru groan (you know how his groans sound, you know how both of them sound), so he must be cumming too. What’s Satoru doing? He’s too needy to be left alone for long.
Is he watching while he jerks himself? Has Suguru forced him to sit back? Or maybe he’s down where the action is, right where Suguru’s cock is buried inside her, laving over her clit and his cock like the slut he is until they both cum all over his face.
Why can’t that be you? Why don’t they want you?
Your fists clench harder than they should.
One night you stumble onto them in the middle of the living room, all at it in plain view.
Satoru is in Suguru’s lap, tall enough to tower over him. Suguru’s hand wrapped around his throat, choking him, head tilted back in bliss as his lashes flutter. There’s a woman on her knees, between their spread legs, sucking Satoru off.
And you can tell, by the way Satoru shudders, how he’s loose like putty in Suguru’s arms, that Suguru’s dick is buried deep inside him.
Satoru and Suguru don’t even try to pretend it was an accident. Some fucking roommates they are.
Suguru will smile and blush when you ask him about it, apologizing in soothing, kind tones, offering to never bring another girl home again if it bothered you – you’ve been through the goddamn song and dance so many times already.
He has this way of just. Making you feel guilty for even asking in the first place. Like you were presumptuous to say anything at all, unless it was something he wanted to hear.
It’s turned you into this. So eager to please but desperate to keep them at arm’s length. Wanting, longing, and starving for it. Watching because you quite literally can’t do anything else, sights burned into your eyes. Unable to look away. Unable to keep watching.
You don't know what they want from you.
You don’t think you want to, anymore.

Satoru and Suguru are getting impatient.
No, Suguru is getting impatient. Satoru is getting desperate. It was his idea to start going out and finding girls to bring back and fuck.
It wasn’t particularly difficult between the two of them. And promising, at first – after all, what was more likely to get you to snap than watching – hearing – the two of them give some other girl everything you’ve ever wanted on a silver platter?
But you just keep going. Gritting your teeth and bearing with it. Suguru spent a whole week dislodging your vibrator slightly from its charging port, slowly squeezing your lube bottle empty, doing everything he could to drive you to the brink.
Satoru’s starting to remark how much it’s a waste of time. He gets snippy when he’s needy, and lately, Suguru’s cock just isn’t enough for him. He has to go through your laundry, plant a camera in your bedroom on one of those few nights they stay out late enough to give you some private time.
Satoru makes him wear your clothes when Suguru fucks him, lets Suguru gag him with your panties when it’s the other way around.
They play dress-up together and watch you touch yourself at awkward angles with muddied sound quality. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.
Privately, Suguru is a little worried. Satoru’s getting weird – not that he hasn’t always been. But weirder.
He goes right into the bathroom after every time you use it. He’s always quick to reach your drinks for a “taste test” after you’ve had a sip. And Suguru knows for a fact Satoru isn’t using his own toothbrush at night.
He keeps talking about you. Looking at you. Whispering dirty suggestions in his ears, asking impatiently if you look like you’re going to snap.
Satoru is needy like that, demanding, and you’d always balanced him out while helping Suguru relax.
But there’s a distance now that wasn’t there before. The tension builds and builds, needs unmet for so long that desperation is clawing at both of them.
And that’s to say nothing of his own desires. Satoru, for all his faults, still has self-control.
Suguru passes your door every night and stops for a moment. He serves you dinner with a smile, domestic as he is, and thinks how easy it would be to slip something in there. To make sure you’d sleep through the night.
Would it even matter if you didn’t? You let him get away with so much. You love him, you must love him, don’t you? There’s no other reason you would put up with all of this. If he did slip, you’d forgive him, wouldn’t you? You’d drink up all his honeyed words with the same smile you always gave him.
But if he gave you such a convenient excuse, then he would always doubt. Whether you really loved him or if he just made it convenient to love him.
More importantly, you’re looking at them different. It was good, at first; your pretty eyes darting in a different direction, the way you try to hide your face, keep your words especially cool.
They want you to TAKE what you want. Want you yelling and screaming and scratching them up like the hellcat they know you are, deep down.
“How long,” He whines between groans as Geto works between his legs, fingering him as he sucks his cock, “Is she gonna make us wait – fuck!”
Suguru pulls away with a pop. Saliva and precum dripping from his lips. Satoru pulls him in for a kiss, by the hair.
“You know she’s liked me a while,” Suguru murmurs, swallowing a moan or two as he works another finger into his hole. “She’s scared of pushing me away. And now that you’re my boyfriend, she probably wouldn’t want to break us up.”
“Fuck, but imagine if she did.” Satoru bucks into him, “She wants us, I know she does.”
He’s always so needy, like a puppy. Suguru likes it, but he can admit that he wants you, too. Misses the energy you’d provide. You’re not demanding like Satoru is. Too prideful. Satoru’s shameless. But you want, oh, do you ever want, and they both do know it.
Once he’s stretched Satoru out enough, he wastes no time shoving him onto his belly, burying himself in his hole from behind – “Fuck! Suguru!”
“On it right now,” He purrs, close to Satoru’s back, reaching lazily for his cock.
Satoru doesn’t like to cum too soon anyways. He likes to cum from getting fucked, to be edged into oblivion – or he likes going hard and fast and overstimulated to no end. Not much in between, unless he was the one in charge.
“Imagine it,” He pants like a dog beneath him. He’s pretty, so pretty, and the only thing Suguru could imagine that would be better is to see your face looking up at him from underneath Satoru, “Suguru!”
He grunts, thrusting his hips harder, “Imagining. What am I imagining?” God, Satoru’s a slut and a nuisance, but it’s always been worth it to indulge him.
“Her,” Satoru breathes after a particularly hard thrust, “Trying to break us up.”
Suguru grabs his hips for better leverage. Satoru dirty talks best when he’s getting fucked hard, after all.
“Fuck, imagine if she got me drunk or something, hngh, finally followed through on those fuck-me eyes she’s always giving me, ghhgh, fuck yes like that, and. Just fucked me in our room, waiting for you to walk in on us together.”
And he can see it, picture it so well.
A drunk night with the most beautiful man alive, because that’s what Satoru is; pretty even now, beneath him, all sweat and lean body trembling as he gets utterly railed.
You’ve always had the attraction, and Satoru couldn’t handle his liquor, and all the sudden, you’d slept together.
“Would you – ah, ahHhh, would you get mad, Suguru?” His voice is teasing now, even through the groans and utterances, “Would you cry~?”
“Ha!” He half-chokes out the laugh, because Satoru clenches around him and it’s hard not to cum right away. He’s going to leave bruises from how hard he’s holding those narrow, lovely hips.
“No," Suguru grinds out, "But I’m sure you both would. She’s the type, and you’re so fucking – gah, so fucking needy. What would you want me to do? Forgive you?”
His pace slows down, and he reaches to squeeze his cock in return, just for a taste.
“Nah – fuck! Yes, keep doing that, fuck.” Satoru bucks into his touch, always, always chasing after him, “She’s too fucking nice all the time. If she did it, it would be – hnng – like. A revenge thing. She should be fucking mad already, pissed off. She should make me cum inside her, say she’s pregnant. Make me dump you and marry her, so if she can’t have you, nobody can.”
Suguru barks out a laugh at the concept, and then a moan, choked off as he feels the heat shooting through him at the idea.
You’re too nice, like Satoru says, it’s a laughable concept, you acting like this –
But what had he seen in your eyes that day after you caught them both with that girl?
“Fuck, I swear I feel you twitching inside me – ”
“What would you do, then?” Suguru purrs hotly into his ear, “You want to win her heart while you’re married?”
“Well, we’d fuck all the time,” Satoru wheezes out a giggle, trembling as Suguru’s hand slides along his cock, “Fuck you – haaaahhh. But I’d be making nice with her, being a good husband, and then you could come and have an affair – ”
Fuck, fuck, that’s too much, “Close,” He grunts, driving himself deep and hard, chasing the edge, “Fuck, I could tell her I love her, blackmail her, even – threaten to tell you.”
A groan as Satoru gets closer, and Suguru continues, “I could fuck her, leave her coming home to you full of my cum – ”
“I’d eat it out of her,” Satoru laughs, near deranged as he jerks between fucking back into Suguru and rutting into his hand, “Jerk me off already – ah, fuck, what if you got her pregnant – ”
White-hot, like the idea of your face beneath him, both of them, accepting them with an open heart full of rage and bitterness and lust, Suguru cums.
He’s just aware enough to fist Satoru’s cock, sliding harshly along it until he hears the lovely whore beneath him gasping, twitching, spilling in his hand.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Satoru whimpers. “Hnghh… god, just the idea of her coming home from the hospital with a black-haired baby.”
“Fuck you,” Suguru barks, because now he wants to cum inside you. He wants, so, so fucking bad to cum inside you.
But god, do you even want them?
You sit there, all day, looking away, running away. That’s not love, is it?
And he’s a romantic, at heart. Satoru is, too. They don’t want anything less than your whole heart. Your entire life, your mind, body, and soul, dedicated to them the way they are to each other. Mad with jealousy and rage and possession.
Satoru had left him with bruises, the day he found out Suguru was crushing on you. When Suguru told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s been wanted you for over a decade now and he wasn’t leaving before he got you. Blue fury in his eyes, heart twisting in his chest.
He’d looked him in the eye, grin wild and wide. Staring down as he has him pinned. Suguru had raised his knee up between his legs to find his cock desperately hard and throbbing.
“I want to fuck her first,” had been his wicked demand. Pain and pleasure traded like currency in return for love, each of them furious at the other for wanting you. They reaped the cost of their love on each other, settled their scores deep in their souls.
Because even if Suguru had seen you first, could he really say he’d wanted you first? Did he really want to fuck you before Satoru moved in, before he saw you flustered from your attraction and playfully trading banter with Satoru?
Had he wanted Satoru because you wanted Satoru? Had Satoru wanted him because he could see that you did?
Lines cross and uncross between you and the two of them, too tangled to ever unravel.
Time to tighten the knot.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#lemon#satoru gojo#satoru gojo smut#satoru x reader#gojo x reader#yandere satoru gojo#yandere x reader#yandere x you#suguru geto#suguru geto smut#suguru x reader#geto x reader#yandere suguru geto#poly yandere#satoru x reader x suguru#gojo x reader x geto#satosugu#satosugu x reader#satoru x suguru#gojo x geto#tw: toxic relationships#tw: manipulation#BYHTD
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If you take requests or suggestions, i believe that you would execute a bob reynolds fic with this plot ✨perfectly✨
I literally LOVE all of your bob fics. They’re my comfort reads before i go to bed at night!
Body Paint
Pairing: Bob.Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!
Summary: You are trying to find the best smudge proof lipstick for the upcoming gala that the team needs to attend tomorrow, and you have found the perfect test subject for the swatches.
Warnings: Pure and utter fluff, and there’s quite a bit of sexual tension. The reader and Bob both have feelings for each other and they’re both well aware of the mutual interest (secretly of course), she takes this as an opportunity to tease.
Author’s Note: I loved this request so much and I immediately started writing it because I was so excited to give it a go! So So Fun! Thank you for the submission! :) (also credit to the artist who made the drawing too because it’s fantastic)
Word Count: 3,362
You gave every drug store lipstick display a run for its money with the collection you had laid out across the bathroom sink. An entire rainbow of tubes was scattered in a controlled type of chaos–organized first by shade, then grouped meticulously by brand. Reds on the left, mauves and berries in the middle, and neutrals off to the right like a little modest army. You had even gone so far as to lay a folded white towel beneath the lineup like a staging mat, saving yourself from scrubbing stains off the marble countertop. The air smelled faintly of your makeup remover wipes–sweet and sterile–and your forearm was streaked with half-dried swatches, but it just wasn’t good enough.
This was all in the name of finding the lipstick. The one that not only matched the dress you were wearing to the PR gala tomorrow, but one that was also smudge-proof. You didn’t want feathering, or fading, and you certainly didn’t want it transferring onto napkins, glasses or people.
You wanted security.
You knew you should’ve started this task earlier in the week, but between back-to-back recon debriefs, endless intel meetings, and mediating three separate team arguments that nearly ended in Walker and Yelena actually strangling each other, the lipstick trials had fallen to the bottom of your to-do list.
Now there was less than twenty-four hours to go, and you were elbows-deep in swatches and stress.
You capped one more tube with a dissatisfied sigh and reached for the next–
Only to pause at the sound of a soft knock on the bathroom door.
“Y-Y/N?” Came Bob’s voice–muffled, hesitant and laced with that familiar nervous warmth. “I-I need to come in and get my brush. I forgot it after my s-shower…” You froze, mid-reach, one hand hovering over a berry toned satin finish tube. Your lips curled into a slow smile.
Perfect timing. For you, anyway. For Bob? That remained to be seen. You crossed the small tiled room in a few barefoot steps and swung the door open with a grin.
“Excellent! You’re just who I need.” Bob blinked at you like a deer caught in LED headlights. His shirt–black, baggy, and soft–was damp around the collar, clinging to his skin and chest in a way that made it impossible not to look. His light brown hair curled at in little waves at the ends, still damp from his shower that was still kissing the walls, and the navy sweatpants sitting low on his hips were hugging him far too well for a man who clearly didn’t see himself in the way you were seeing him in.
”…Wh-What?” He asked, brows furrowed, gaze daring from your eyes to the mess of tubes on the counter.
“Come in,” You said smoothly, reaching out and tugging him gently by the wrist, guiding him over the threshold with ease, “Sit on the toilet lid, and hurry up with the hair brushing…I need a test subject.” He obeyed-but only in the way someone might follow a siren calling them to certain doom. He moved like he wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into a trap or a daydream.
”L-Last time I heard the words ‘test s-subject’ I ended up getting injected with a sun god…” He mumbled, grabbing the brush from the hanging organizer on the shower door. You laughed, warm and low at the comment.
“Relax. I’m not injecting you with anything. You’re perfectly safe with me.” Bob sat down slowly, brush limp in his hand as his gaze swept across the counter again, scanning over the contents that you had lined up with such care.
”S-So what is all of t-this?” You turned slightly towards him, unscrewing a velvet-matte red as you spoke.
“I’m trying to find the perfect lipstick for the gala tomorrow,” You said matter-of-factly, swiping the colour gently across your bottom lip, “It has to match my dress and it has to be smudge-proof.”
Bob tilted his head, watching your quick movements intently, “Smudge-proof?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be constantly running to the bathroom to check for fading or fix transfer stains. I want to actually enjoy the night. Have a drink. Maybe dance. You know…Breathe.” He gave a thoughtful little nod, bringing the brush through his damp hair.
”D-Didn’t really think about that, a-actually…” You turned away from your reflection to look at him, a coy smile peeling onto your lips.
“Most guys don’t.” But Bob wasn’t most guys of course, and as expected, a beat later he added to the conversation again…
”…W-Wait…Why does it have to be completely smudge-proof though? I mean if you’re just–“ You shrugged, letting your gaze flick toward the mirror, while your lips pressed together, transferring the color over to the bare one above.
”You never know,” You said casually, “I might be planning on kissing someone.” Bob froze like someone had yanked all the oxygen out of the room. His cheeks–already pink from the post-shower warmth–turned a deeper, rosier red in seconds. It bloomed across his cheekbones, dusting the tips of his ears, and spread like a sunburn. His mouth opened slightly like he meant to say something, but all he managed to get out was:
”O-Oh…” He choked, swallowing the lump of nerves in his throat. The brush in his hand was still mid-motion through his damp locks, but it had stopped moving entirely. You smiled at him.
”Alright,” You started, twisting the lipstick down and putting the cap back on with a soft click, “First one. You ready?” He nodded slowly, like he couldn’t trust his voice. His eyes tracked you as you stepped forward–deliberate and unhurried–until you were standing directly between his legs.
His brush lowered slightly, and then the wave of your scent hit his nose.
Your perfume was warm, and sweet, with a hint of plum riding off of the tail end of each inhale he took. Beneath the main notes there was something tropical–maybe coconut from your makeup remover, or the vanilla-tinged balms you always wore when your lips were bare.
But now your lips weren’t bare at all. They were red, and bold, and smooth, just like fresh velvet. He looked up slowly, through his lashes, and found you were already staring down at him. You tilted your head, smiling, the curve of your mouth smug in a way that made something tighten in his chest.
You didn’t say anything as you reached forward–fingers brushing gently along the side of his jaw, your thumb just beneath the hinge of it. He let you tilt his head more toward you like he was made of clay and you were the ceramicist.
He dropped the brush into his lap, forgetting about it completely.
Your face hovered near his and he could feel his breath hitch audibly. You leaned in slow enough that he swore he could hear his own heartbeat ringing through the room.
Then your lips pressed to his cheek.
Warm, firm and lingering. It wasn’t a quick peck either. Not an innocent brush. It was a kiss.
You lingered just long enough for him to feel the curve of your mouth, and the faint stick of product with the pressure of intention behind it. He could smell the stain now–berries and heat, sharp pigment and your sweet breath that had a faint scent of strawberries from the gum you chewed on. If he was a sailor and you were the siren…He would be dead at sea.
When you pulled away, he swore the room was spinning a little. You cocked your head to the side and looked at the mark you had left just above the apple of his cheek. A bright, undeniable red, plastered on his pale tone.
“Hmm,” You said thoughtfully, “Definitely transferred.” Bob sat in stunned silence, skin still tingling from where your mouth had been–he didn’t know whether it was because he was allergic to the ingredients or because it was just him buzzing from all the adrenaline, though he would find out in due time. You dabbed at your own lips with a tissue saturated in make-up remover, wiping the colour clean.
“Not a keeper,” You mumbled, “It’s a shame–it was a really good match.” He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find words, nor could he find a way to breathe. He didn’t even know how he was still alive at this point, all he knew was he saw you reach out again.
You selected the next shade carefully.
A sultry plum–deep, and elegant, with just enough bite to stand out. You rolled the colour across your lips in smooth, practiced strokes, then blotted once on a folded tissue before turning back to him.
Bob still hadn’t moved an inch. He was still sitting frozen on the seat, brush limp in his lap, his shimmering blue eyes flickering between your mouth and the floor. The cheek you had kissed was flushed a bit deeper now.
“Test two,” You announced gently, stepping into his space again, until the hem of your t-shirt brushed against his thigh and he had nowhere left to look that wouldn’t betray him in some way. Your hand came up to his jaw again–just two fingers this time, soft and easy, tilting his face the opposite way.
His lashes fluttered under the feeling of your breath brushing over them as you kissed him again. This time it was just below his temple, closer to the hinge of his jaw–closer to where his pulse was throbbing faintly beneath his skin. You pressed a little firmer this time, letting your breath fan against his ear.
Bob inhaled a quiet breath through his nose, attempting to keep himself calm, but in reality he was gripping the fabric of his sweatpants between his fingers like it was the only thing holding him back from collapsing. When you pulled away, you didn’t look at him, you just kept your focus on the mark.
”…Transferred,” You murmured, brushing your thumb lightly over the stain–making sure it was more of a caress than a swipe. You didn’t move back this time, you just grabbed another makeup wipe and removed the color before reaching for another.
It was a dusty rose this time, it was softer, and much more muted than any of the other colors he had seen you in.
Once you had applied it, you leaned in–closer now–and kissed the slope of his cheekbone, just beneath the curve of his eye. Your lips barely grazed the skin there–it was as if you did it to see if he would flinch or move.
Bob’s jaw tensed under your touch, and you were hyper aware of his breath hitting your skin in short, warm bursts, his chest lifting against you. He hadn’t said a word–but his hands had now left his lap and were gripping the edge of the counter, white-knuckled in anticipation.
You reached for the next tube–something far more delicate than the dusty rose before it. A pink so faint it was almost nothing at all. A whisper of colour. You applied it, blotted it, then turned again. Bob had somehow managed to get a handle on his breathing in the moments you were applying the next colour, but it was too controlled. You could practically feel the storm building beneath his skin, golden and humming, and desperate to stay still.
Your thighs brushed the inside of his knees as you tilted his head up to yours again, looking at the way his skin was flushed and warm, beneath the shades of pinks and reds…A gradient of restraint. You leaned in, and this time your kiss landed just beside the corner of his mouth, not touching it, but close enough to tease.
Bob made a sound. It was barely audible. A sof, helpless little nnnnh in the back of his throat–like a gasp that had gotten stuck on the way out. You didn’t say anything. You only bit back a knowing smile, and pretended not to hear it. You just wiped your lips again and moved on to the next shade–a creamy nude gloss, with just a hint of peach.
You came back in and kissed beneath his jaw, where the stubble was soft and patchy and tender. The spot made him twitch, his throat working under the weight of the kiss, like he was trying to swallow air.
His breathing changed then and became heavier and shallower.
And when you came close to him again, in a different shade–this time pressing your lips right onto his Adam’s apple–Bob’s head tipped back instinctively.
Like he was offering himself up to you–surrendering himself completely.
You continued to kiss him, moving progressively lower, marking him up with various shades. Then suddenly you found yourself at the hollow of his throat, just between the lines of his collarbones. His chest was rising faster now, with flush traveling beneath his shirt, like it was echoing the trail your mouth had carved against his skin.
You pulled back slowly, lips hovering about the damp collar of his shirt, bringing your hand up to brush over the fabric.
”Oops…” You murmured softly, putting on a teasing tone beneath your words, “I think I’m running out of room.” Bob looked down at you with eyes that were no longer blue. You hadn’t even noticed he had his eyes closed tightly for the majority of this until now.
There was gold flickering at the edges. Sentry was just barely cresting the surface–quiet, curious, and turned-on by the proximity. He was enamoured by what was happening, and Bob was allowing him to watch through his eyes because he was too focused on trying to keep himself together. The air around Bob was shimmering faintly, vibrating with tension like he was lighting up the room.
The sensation of your lips had done this…You had done this, and you were proud of it.
Your nails dragged gently down the front of his shirt, tracing a circle around the fabric.
”I think you may need to take this off…To give me more space of course.” You whispered, watching as his brain seemed to short-circuit. His eyes were still half-lidded, heavy with heat and something distant and flickering gold. But when they opened fully they met yours with the softest, most terrified kind of care, glancing down at your mouth just as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth…And that’s what did it for him. That was the punch of encouragement to the gut.
He gave you a small nod, then reached for the hem of his shirt. His hands trembled slightly from the kind of overstimulated shyness that lived just under the surface of his flesh, in the space between ‘I want this’ and ‘I don’t know what to do with all of it.’ He peeled the black shirt up slowly, exposing inch after inch of pale skin, dusted with freckles and pure heat. There were a few scars here and there. A mole right near the dip of his sternum. A faint sheen of sweat that bloomed across his chest and shoulders from the heat in the room–or from the heat of your lips…Possibly both.
The fabric came over his head, messing up his semi-brushed hair in the process, and he folded it carefully in his lap like he was going to get up to put it on display or something. You let yourself stare.
At the freckles on his collarbones, the ones on his biceps. The soft stretch marks that feathered under his arms and the little curve of his ribs as they flared gently with each nervous breath he took. You wanted to map everything with your mouth.
So you did.
You leaned in again, with a fresh colour on your lips–deep pink this time, and kissed just beneath his collarbone, then a little to the right, then down the slope of his chest–right over where his heart was pulsating beneath its shield of flesh.
Bob made a quiet sound, something soft and strangled that never made it fully out of his throat. His hands were still in his lap, his thumbs gripping the hem of the shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from grabbing yours. Every part of him was vibrating–his jaw clenched, chest rising, shoulders tense–and still he let you do it, staying perfectly still.
You changed shades, kissing higher, then lower.
A sheer gloss that glimmered under the light as you kissed just below the curve of his pec. A matte brick red as you moved toward the center of his chest. Then you put on something soft again, something nude and barely there, as you pressed your hands against his thighs for a bit of leverage while your lips found the inside slope of his ribcage. You could’ve sworn you felt his knees buckle under your hands.
By the time you reached the underside of his pectoral muscle, you heard the faintest breath catch in his lungs, like he couldn’t even take full breaths anymore. And then you kissed just above it.
One final, perfect kiss.
You pressed your lips down and held them there–longer, slower, firmer–fighting back the urge to mark the skin with something that wasn’t lipstick. You felt the flutter of his pulse beneath it. And when you finally pulled away, you let your lips ghost against him, your eyes trailing down to where you had kissed.
“Ooooh. This one’s good…I think we found it. No transfer!” You announced, looking up at Bob, seeing the ruined look plastered on his face.
His eyes were heavy, shot through with blue and gold. His mouth parted. His skin was flushed a deep red and marked in soft lip stains, all across his chest, neck, jaw, and face. The air shimmered around him like static clinging to the atmosphere, and he was breathless. He let out a sigh.
”P-Perfect,” He whimpered, so dazed his words barely had shape to them. His body shifted, like he was meaning to stand–maybe to retreat, maybe to run cold water over his steaming body, maybe just to breathe–
But you didn’t let him.
Before he could even try to get up, you surged forward and kissed him on the lips. Hungry, wet, and deep. You kissed him like it was the conclusion to a story you had been telling in colour across his skin. Bob let out a muffled, desperate little moan into your mouth, as his hands found your waist, then your back, then your hips–grabbing, pulling, and holding. He crushed you to him, allowing all his restraint to unravel all at once, letting what little control he had slip through his fingers.
You kissed him like you had wanted to from the very start. Like all the kisses around his whole body led to this one final one–this overwhelming, messy, and utterly perfect one.
He kissed you back with awe. With the kind of pressure that said ‘thank you, please don’t stop, I’ve been waiting.’
You pulled back just enough to breathe–barely. Your foreheads bumped, and the air between you was heat, electricity, and trembling silence.
Bob’s lips were swollen now. Kiss-bitten, and wet. But when you looked…
The colour on your lips hadn’t transferred onto his. You smirked, and reached up, gently swiping the faintest trail of spit off his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, tilting your head to the side.
”Fantastic,” You whispered, leaning forward just a bit, “It’s definitely kiss-proof.”
#marvel fanfiction#spotify#lewis pullman#bob reynolds#bob reynolds imagines#bob reynolds x reader#bob x reader#robert reynolds#robert reynolds fanfic#robert reynolds x reader#bob reynolds fluff#bob reynolds x you#bob reynolds fanfic#x reader#sentry fluff#sentry x reader#sentry#robert reynolds fluff#robert reynolds x you#lewis pullman characters#lewis pullman the man you are#thunderbolts fan fiction#bob thunderbolts#thunderbolts fanfic#thunderbolts*#thunderbolts#fluff#so fluffy and cute
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afab reader finding out boyfriend!jake has a huge dick (fulfill my fantasy please)
fantasy fulfilled!
MDNI
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You're giggling into Jake's shoulder, the both of you tangled up in his sheets, half-dressed and entirely wrapped in each other. It's warm, safe, and so stupidly comfortable that you almost forget you're in someone else's bed and not in your own.
He made some dumb joke about your favorite romcom, and you shoved at him with a mock glare before collapsing back against his chest.
"God, you're annoying," you laugh breathlessly.
Jake grins, flushed from how close you are. "Am I really?" You roll your eyes, shifting to sit up a little, using your hand to push yourself up by his thigh.
Jake flinches, groaning sharply as your hand lands squarely on something very much not muscle or bone. You freeze. He slaps his forearm over his face like he's embarrassed and laughing all at once.
"Fuck—ow," he winces with a strangled chuckle.
Your eyes widen, your face heating up fast. "Oh my god—Jake, I'm so sorry, I thought—I thought that was your thigh!"
He's still wheezing under his arm, teeth sunk into his bottom lip like he's trying to hold it together. "It wasn't, baby," he mumbles, peeking at you through a grin that's somehow both smug and bashful. "Definitely not my thigh."
You're still hovering over him, hand clutched to your chest, mortified. "Wait... but—" You glance down, then back at him. "Jake. That was like—halfway to your knee."
Jake groans again and lets his head fall back against the pillow, arms thrown out like he's giving up. "I didn't want to freak you out," he says, quieter now. "We've been taking it slow, and I didn't... I don't know. I like you. A lot. I didn't wanna rush you or scare you away."
You blink, lips parting slightly. "You were worried your dick would scare me off?"
He nods, a little sheepish. "Deadass."
You bite your lip, trying not to laugh because he's being honest, but you're still mildly in shock. "Jake. You've made me cum with your fingers. Twice. You think I'm gonna run away over your dick?"
"I didn't know!" He lifts his hands in surrender. "You're so sweet and soft and perfect, and I didn't want to be the guy who—who whips it out and ruins everything. I meant it when I said I don't care if we have sex or not. I just like being with you."
Your heart twists a little at that, warm and fond. You reach out and touch his cheek gently. "I'm not going anywhere, Jake." He leans into your touch like it soothes something deep. "Yeah?"
You smile. "Yeah. Also..." You tilt your head playfully. "Now I'm kinda curious."
Jake groans again, dragging a pillow over his face. "Lord have mercy." You stare at him with wide eyes, one hand tentatively cupping him over his sweatpants, and the outline alone has your head spinning.
"Jake," you whine, your voice pitching higher with disbelief. "It's not fair. You've been hiding this from me."
He's propped up on his elbows now, looking absolutely wrecked already just from the way you're touching him. His chest is rising and falling faster, and the flush on his cheeks runs straight down his neck.
"I wasn't hiding it," he breathes. "I was trying to be good."
"But I wanna see it," you say, tugging at the waistband of both his sweatpants and briefs. "Please?"
Jake lets out a choked sound and lifts his hips just enough for you to slide them down. You weren't even trying to tease, but the second he springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your hand wraps around the base, then your other joins—and there's still length left over. You look up at him, slack-jawed.
"Jake."
"I know," he whispers, voice wrecked.
"I can't even..." You try to close your fingers over it, both hands working slowly. "My hands don't fit. How am I supposed to—"
Jake's watching you like he's starving, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on your mouth as you lean closer like you're going to try. But then he cuts in with a voice so low it makes your stomach flutter.
"Sit on it."
You blink up at him. "W-What?"
He reaches out and strokes your cheek, guiding your face up so you're looking at him fully. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. "C'mere, baby. Sit on it. Let me feel you."
Your entire body lights up. It's not like this was the plan, but the way he says it, like he's offering you the sun and begging you to take it, it has you trembling a little as you climb into his lap.
"Are you sure?" you ask, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Jake groans, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping down to cup you through your panties. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
And when he slides them aside and runs two fingers along your folds, the heat in his gaze turns molten. "You're so wet already," he mutters, kissing your throat. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna take me so good."
You whimper when the tip of him nudges at your entrance, your thighs shaking as you start to sink down. You're halfway down and already shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as your thighs tremble around his hips. "Jake—" you gasp, breath catching. "It's—it's too much—"
He cups the back of your head and presses his forehead to yours, voice strained and low. "You can take it, baby. Just breathe for me." You do—shaky, shallow little breaths, but it barely helps. Every inch of him stretches you wider than you've ever felt, your walls fluttering around the thick pressure of him splitting you open.
"Fuck," he groans, hips barely rocking up into you. "You feel so tight baby, like your pussy's never been touched before." "Gonna flip you over, okay?"
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he does so, pushing in deeper, slow but relentless, like he's determined to mold your body to fit him. You cling to him helplessly, whimpering when the head of his cock nudges something that makes your stomach flip.
"Look at me," he murmurs, brushing your hair back, gaze dark and wild. "Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy out, yeah? Make it fit me. Make it mine."
You nod fast, lips parted and teary-eyed, and he groans at the sight, gripping your hips harder. "So fuckin' small," he breathes. "So damn tight. Can feel every twitch—baby, you're squeezing me like you don't wanna let me in."
You cry out when he shifts his hips and finally sinks the last few inches, fully seated inside you. You're trembling all over, overwhelmed and breathless.
"There," Jake hisses, jaw clenched as he holds still, trying not to lose it. "Fuck, you did it. You took all of me. Knew you could." He starts moving, in short shallow thrusts.
"Fucking perfect," Jake snarls against your throat, one hand fisting your hair while the other bruises your hip. "So tight—squeezing me like you were made for it. You were, weren't you? Made to take this cock."
You can barely nod, tears on your cheeks, your moans coming out broken as he thrusts into you—deep and filthy, every snap of his hips knocking the breath from your lungs.
"Look at you," he groans, watching the way your tits bounce with every rough stroke. "So fucking pretty when you cry—so fuckin' good for me. Bet your pussy's never been stretched like this. It hasn’t right? I’m the biggest you’ve ever had? Gonna keep you stuffed until you can't even walk straight."
And the way he has you pinned down, fucking into you like he's starved, you know he means it. Jake's obsessed—wrecked. And now that he's had you like this, he's not stopping until you've cum on him again and again and again.
You're not just his favorite, you’re his new addiction.
And he's gonna ruin you for hours.
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• a/n: spent the whole day working on velvet vice and writing hard thoughts, i need a sunghoon req next please.
#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#hard thought reqs#enhypen x reader#enha hard thoughts#enha hard hours#jake smut#jake hard thoughts#jake hard hours
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' are we ? ' snap and snarl ; he near butts his head at the lunge of his interrogation , plush doraemon thoroughly ignored . but then his temper simmers , and his arms cross in a huff . despite his difficult appearances , he nevertheless permits the other's touch . it should make him happy : a self-professed lack of distinction and thereby the culmination of tamer and wing as two unified halves of longing , yet something about it still gets under his skin . he doesn't know whether or not the idea , if expressed , would have inspired content or disappointment within makishima , surgical in every observation , so fond of spiritual clean cuts and vivisection , all the while maintaining himself seemingly aloof and exception --- ah , and maybe there lay the irk . ' ... for someone who talks about wanting to see what's inside everybody else all the time , you sure can be dodgy when it comes to us about yourself . ' and just how many others had contented themselves with the mere phantasmal glimpses of makishima's presence ? how many had settled for erudition and philosophy , a brief light of athenian enlightenment before their well-earned grim-ends ? ' ... i don't know whether or not it's because you think you're protecting us , or only just trying to excuse yourself , but i don't like it . ' a flutter at the other's finish , and some shed falls between them --- black feathers and snow-like motes of shattered keratin sheathe . ' flatter and pet me all you want . unfortunately , i'm still not a narcissist . look , you'd better not be looking down on us and our decisions , makishima . if you really want to be all by yourself , then fine --- i couldn't care less if you limped off to die alone somewhere . but you know how daisuke is . ' how his heart never hid anything in its bids for reach . salvation . ' even someone like you ends up "precious" . or are you going to try to say that it's fine for us to completely abandon you because it's you ? '
“Aren't we friends?” He states at the slip, perhaps with a ruthless simplicity, neither directly addressing the deflated bluster nor continuing his own pressing guise once he confirms the mortification. Mildly, he adjusts toward fairness and sets the novel aside, casting away its controlled significance and turning scope of priority elsewhere. Friends, he says, with weightless calm. The familiar degree of challenge shall inevitably return, once the phantom thief is capable of standing proud with heart aflame without any shameful reservations or personas to hold. “You know, I find very little distinction between you.” He admits, evening their gazes as he sets a gloved hand on Dark's shoulder and peers in turn from beneath his unwavering expression of calm. “The shape your suffering takes will be the same without any assistance, or so I've discerned. Do you think I navigate this world with such riskless certainty?...” The corner of his mouth crinkles as he shakes his head lightly and guides the other to be seated where a familiar Doraemon plush awaits. He evaluates the irritated feathered flesh, misting the wings to soothe before he expertly begins to pluck at the worn to allow for the new, coaxing the growth to emerge painlessly. “... Am I winging it, do you think? Or was I prepared to risk a cherished relic to gain your trust in this particular instance and see you comforted, isolated from memory?... How mystifying.” He hums at his handiwork, spritzing the fledgling bound to leave this temporary nest as he questions his own place as chosen sanctuary. Of course, that's not his choice to make. Makishima yields, granting his encouragement with a playful pat on the head. “I'm surprised you've entrusted me with this task despite my teasing. You're free to go now. With enough flaunting your wings for adoring fans and staking your heart in each interpersonal heist... you may find an individual willing to look past everything in order to find you and hold your outstretched hands. Such a connection would be precious, I think. Only you could say if it will be worth the ache and the endeavor... kaitō-kun.”
#*・゚⊰ IC. ⊱#CANON.#achroanimus#hes had it with u maki. TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT. THE NAKAMA BOX!!! JWJEJAFK#'sometimes its better not to trust maki n accept tht maki's wholly unnecessary' dai (raising his hand in the bg): ok i can do all that#but also refuse and refute it with my own will bc what if he wants maki to be necessary???#unstoppable force vs immovable object it's like that -teleports behind you- gag but with dai attempting to grasp maki and maki wave-dashing#as soon as he tries. but he just keeps trying bc hes built like that#god i wish i had better words HWEAGWGKJ RATTLES EVERYBODY INVOLVED IN THIS ALL!!!#DAI N DARK WILL NEVER SEEK TO IMPOSE ON MAKI'S INDIVIDUALITY AT THE SAME TIME TO REJECT RECOGNITION OF THEIR CONSIDERATION#IS TO SNUB THEIR OWN INTENT. they [including dark] will never truly see makishima as unnecessary or nonexistent#the same way that in being given a gun they will always enforce the staunch conviction to refuse to ever fire the trigger#'but if you tame me then we shall need each other to me you will be unique in all the world to you i shall be unique in all the world!'#dark vc stop trying to offer me doraemon and the masses this aint about doraemon or the masses this is about us. wench#god even maki's apathy is completely acceptable by them. used to it. mostly. maki has no idea the kinds of things they've been thru#when you're the kind of person who can literally get strangled a centimeter away from blacking out to literal actual death#by someone you've been calling a friend at school + then literally beam at and say good morning to THE NIGHT AFTER NEARLY BEING STRANGLED#TO DEATH. AS IF NOTHING AT ALL HAD HAPPENED. MAKI'S APATHY IS BENEVOLENT BY MEASURE. 😭
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ngl i 100% thought peri would be an antagonist
he's the first fairy in thousands of years, born directly under the lineage of what has to be the most powerful fairy family line in current existence
(cosmo is a von strangle, and also the very reason fairies stopped having babies in the first place. he's incredibly powerful and nobody talks about it for some reason. it's clear peri inherited that destructive potential)
the second he was born, entire fairy species (including his own kin) were out to get him to use his volatile magic for their own selfish goals. he's nearly kidnapped thrice, and almost ends the universe on the same day
the threats keep coming, and he's being dragged to countless adventures that put him at risk. he literally ceases to exist more than once
anyway, i wouldn't be surprised if some form of expectations were placed upon him growing up. maybe not by his family, but he's famous (a teacher described him as such once); in fairy world, he's automatically adored and celebrated by adults and peers alike, which foop antagonizes (and tries to kill) him for
cosmo and wanda would, realistically, of course try to shield him from all this, but no matter what they do, he's inevitably isolated
people either want to use him, put him on a pedestal, or is a universally infamous human godchild who will forget all about him in a matter of years
(cosmo and wanda becoming godparents and learning (choosing) to eventually let go of their kids is one thing, but it can be assumed poof was still a young, underdeveloped child by the time timmy (+chloe, for what it's worth) got his memories wiped
and he sees that timmy's able to live his own happy life without him in it. he lost his brother just like that, and there's nothing he can do despite all his godly powers)
there's so, so many ways he could've gone wrong
thus, my initial thought was that peri was going to be a somewhat petty, "spoiled brat," and him becoming a godparent would be the result of spite or rebellion, which cosmo and wanda would feel entirely responsible for. I HATE MY PARENTS!! yada yada yada
it was a pleasant surprise to see all those clips of them loving each other. and it's not even because i doubted for a second that cosmo and wanda are bad parents, it's just what you usually expect when seeing shows from the 2000s, even if it doesn't make sense
all things considered, i'm very glad they went for the lighthearted silly family trope. not every show needs such conflicts, and showing healthy dynamics are better for kids overall
still, i find it interesting to think about if they'd gone down another route instead. i love me a pathetic cringy villain who tries (fails) to hate the people they love the most
#string rants#the fairly oddparents#fairly odd parents fanart#fop#fop fanart#fairly oddparents a new wish#fop a new wish#peri fairly oddparents#peri#peri fairywinkle cosma#poof#fop poof#fairly oddparents poof#poof cosma#poof fairywinkle cosma#nickelodeon#cartoon#artists on tumblr#digital art#my art#art#my artwork#artwork
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