#but i really needed to get this off my chest because those lines have been a pet peeve of mine since getting into dwd

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[bluesidez]

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

[pseudowho]

Surely mister perfect dad-husband-lover Nanami babywears? I could see him in a big woven wrap, maybe one in the same pattern as his tie?

And once the baby is a toddler, tossing them on his back while they run errands about town?

Bonus: would Higuruma? I haven’t read the manga so I only really know of him and his traits via fandom…

Nanami Kento: He absolutely babywears 👏👏 I think he'd be into the reliability of a structured carrier myself, but would absolutely fall apart if Mrs.Nanami has one made with a bespoke, tie-matching pattern.

I think he'd also have a meticulously organised baby bag with snacks, outfit changes, medicine, etc. Truly, a prepared king. He finds it uniquely frustrating that most baby-change rooms are in women's only bathrooms.

I think he'd have a back carrier for a toddler, but he'd encourage them to walk as much as he could, wearing the carrier just in case. They'd get thrown on his back when he needs to carry stuff though. He'd check they're awake back there by doing the Reach Back and Offer Snack technique...if a little hand comes out to take the snack, they're awake 😌

He'd be talking to people while babywearing, his usual low, stern voice, and would randomly interject every now and then with his sweet dad voice to include the baby: "...so we intercepted the Curse on the second floor, and Ino managed to take it out. But you don't need to know about that, do you, sweetheart? No, nooooo. No scary monsters here, no there aren't..."

Talk too loudly by him while the baby's asleep on him, and you'll be met with a death glare, and a single, raised finger in threat; Mr.Nanami Kento, who can excuse murder, but draws the line at disturbing naps.

Higuruma Hiromi: While I HC Higuruma as child free by choice (I have written just one fic of Dad!Higuruma), I think he'd absolutely babywear through practicality, the guy's too busy to push a buggy. If he has to use a buggy one day, I picture him jogging this baby to daycare (because he's running late) while pushing this buggy. He drops his baby off, gives him a big kiss and hair ruffle...then runs back, because the baby's been holding onto his case notes for him, and he forgot them.

That baby would be his confidante; Higuruma would share case details and ask his baby's opinion ("...so the prosecution, think they've got the evidence they need, but they're clowns. They're clowns, aren't they? Aren't they darling? Yes they are..."), go to client meetings with the baby ("Look...I believe you, but my kid doesn't look convinced. Maybe try something more like..."), and use his baby as an excuse ("Ahhh I'm sorry, I can't make that client lunch actually? Why? Oh, me and my baby hate you I haven't got childcare for the afternoon, today.")

Higuruma's a big oral fixation guy, and a fidgeter (pen chewer, gavel twizzler, tie loosening...) and assumes his baby is too, so has a baby fiddle-clip for when he's babywearing (he likes a wrap sling-- he knows it looks sloppy, but he's a dexterous king and can tie one in 10 seconds flat). He may or may not have had a bespoke fiddle/teething clip made, with a little rubberised gavel on it for chewing.

He's one of those dads who feels sleepy when a baby naps on him. You'd find him, slumped back in his office chair, with a baby napping on his chest, while Hiromi snores away, head back and exhausted, a pen and paperwork still in his hand.

Mr.Haitch is a keen babywearer. I'm very into Strong Man Wears Baby as a thing 💀

-- Haitch xxx

[ennabear]

enananan wants blurb ideas plu can deliver for bae💚 SHUTTING SEV UP WITH KISSES PLEASE!! maybe like she's getting grumpy :sevikaeyebrow: but r is like nope!! SMOOCH i love u twinsy go get em <3

HEHE HAII TWINSY!!! SMOOCH FOR U hehehe thanks for this idea i need to blurb about my wife because i miss her… grumpy sev is my baeee hehehe she’s just a little baby bear cub 🤎🤎🤎

sevika often comes home at late hours in the night or even early in the morning, so she’s never really in a great mood. although your version of ‘scary lady’ is just her grumbling about stubbing her toes on your furniture or demanding a back massage. but still, your babe is sleep deprived, hungry, and most of all, she misses you.

you have a habit of making sure she has everything she’ll need when she gets home, like a meal, a neat and tidy bed, a drink if she needs one, a warm bath if it’s been one of those weeks. she’s always immensely grateful for it, even though to anyone else she might seem to be unhappy. but you can tell that she appreciates and loves you, especially when she cuddles you to sleep or when she wakes you up with her tongue stuffed in your cunt.

tonight, she comes home angry and growling as always. jinx has gotten herself in trouble as always, and no matter how much she tries to keep the kid in line, she always blows it up. literally. and sevika is left not only cleaning up her messes, but silco’s too. it annoys her, and it’s exhausting, and all she wants to do when she comes home is just get all of her frustration out.

so when she walks in through the front door, she sighs, takes a seat, and starts sipping at the glass of whiskey you’ve poured for her. you can tell by the crease between her brows and the way her lips are pouted that there’s something on her mind, and you know that she’s just itching to get it off of her chest.

“how was your day?” you prompt.

she sighs deeply, closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose. “i hate my job sometimes.”

“really? i thought you liked helping your people.”

“not when jinx kills them all.”

and her tangent has started. she tells you all about how silco had her running around the city all day, in and out of buildings, up and down between topside and bottom, tracking shipments, meeting people, cleaning the bar, babysitting jinx, finding information, etc.

what she hasn’t noticed is that you’ve been sneaking closer to her while she talks. she’s too busy in her own world, ranting about jinx and silco and the chembarons and the enforcers, and suddenly you’re wrapping your arms around her and pressing your lips against hers.

you smile against her, you know that she likes to vent sometimes, but you also know that it’s good for her to just move on and enjoy your presence. she sighs against you, pulling away with another pout. some of her brown lipstick has smudged against your lips, so she reaches forward to smear it off.

“sorry, am i boring you?” she says with a sleepy grin.

“yeah, a little.” you tease. “why don’t we go to bed, babe. i know you’re tired.”

sevika also likes to overshare when she’s drunk. it doesn’t take much, just a few drinks and a steady conversation to start her rambling.

sometimes it’s dangerous, she’ll start talking to some random goon about silco’s plans and incoming shimmer shipments, and you have to swoop in and start making out with her before she reveals to much and loses her job.

other times it’s cute. she’ll get a little tipsy, the bar will be somewhat empty, the lights shining perfectly on your skin, and she’ll just dump out a million reasons as to why she’s in love with you. she gets so adorable and soft, her cheeks get firm with a smile reaching from one ear to the other, her eyes squinting closed a little, and it’s hard not to lean forward and shut up her words with your kisses.

it’s not like she minds, though. she never minds. her favorite thing in the world is the feeling of your lips on hers, and that sweet feeling of love that it brings to her. whether she’s had the worst day ever or not, she knows that you’ll find a way to comfort her with your sweet kisses, and she instantly forgets all about what caused her to start talking in the first place.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Where They Like to Kiss You

Where the jjk men like to kiss you♡

Content: Soft, slight mention of something a little naughty. Just a smidge because I can't help it.

Interested in where they like to be kissed? Check here.

Gojo

Shoulders. He loves brushing your hair to the side, pressing his smooth lips against your shoulders. His arms wrapped around your waist, expect to have multiple kisses pressed there. Whether you're lounging at home, in line for food, or you're having sex, he's kissing your shoulders. Bonus if you have freckles or a cute little mole there. He'll be sure to give it a kiss, too.

Getou

Tummy. Okay, this may just be for my own need but I see him kissing your tummy. I can't really explain it but it's the intimacy of it. A place that he gets to see the most when you're comfortable. Whether you have a smaller tummy or a more plush one, he'd kiss it. Same as Gojo, if you have freckles or moles, he'd kiss those too. He just likes to hold your tummy and worship it with his mouth via kisses. And you best believe he's kissing his way down your tummy before he teases your sex.

Nanami

Forehead. It may feel a little basic, but he can't help it. He enjoys watching you scrunch your nose when he presses his lips to your forehead. A huge smile on your face as a small blush spreads across your cheeks. It fills his heart with warmth when his baby smiles so wide from his kisses. He likes to kiss there too after you suck him off, offering you praises for a job well done.

Chosou

Palm/Wrist. I don't think Choso truly has a favorite place. He likes kissing all of you, but if he did have to choose it'd be your palm of the inside of your wrist. Especially when you're holding hands, he'll bring them to his lips and press a soft kiss. A red dusting over his cheeks as he smiles at you. He likes your wrist because he can feel your pulse and in his mind, it's like kissing your heart ): and you best believe when you're riding him, making him feel good. He'll show you appreciation by pressing his lips to this spot.

Toji

Chest. More specifically, the top of it. The part that peeks out from the shirts you wear. Oh, he does it in public too. Make no mistake about that. He'd gladly pull you close, pressing his chapped lips on the skin on your chest. And it's not for any sappy reason (maybe a little but he won't tell you that). It's a possessive sorta thing. Your chest is intimate and it's his, so of course he's allowed to kiss it. I don't even have to mention that he does it while he's slamming into you.

A/N: Kissing has been in my brain lately, hence, you get this. Should I do a part 2 about where they liked to be kissed?

[steddieas-shegoes]

assistant to the dm, steve harrington

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'secretly studying nerd shit' rated t | 1,361 words | cw: mild language | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, d&d references (could be inaccurate since i don't actually play), banter that's also flirting

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

"I just don't understand why you needed to borrow my character sheets. You don't even know what most of this means," Dustin said as he handed over the papers.

"I just need to see something," Steve replied, taking the papers and adding it to his mess of a kitchen table. Other character sheets were strewn all over, most filled out, but some empty. A couple of books were open on random pages, recognizable images of weapons and monsters visible to anyone who walked by.

"Why does it look like you're studying for a college degree in D&D?" Dustin asked.

Steve looked up at him, eyes blank, mouth in a straight line. "Because I finally got accepted to Indiana State. Go away."

"Fine! I want those sheets back though!" Dustin said as he left Steve to his studying.

Hours must have passed, the light outside turning to dusk before Steve thought to take a break. His head hurt, his vision was blurry, and he didn't feel any closer to understanding a god damn thing.

He thunked his head against the table, letting out pained groan as his head throbbed.

"Are you looking for something or have you decided to finally play with us?" Eddie's voice said directly behind him, making him nearly fall out of his seat. "Shit, sorry. Thought you heard me come in."

Eddie's hands were on Steve's arms, squeezing, centering.

Like he knew exactly what he needed to lose the slight hint of remaining panic left in his chest.

"I was just trying to figure out if there actual dragons in this game or if that was also made up," Steve said, sitting back and putting distance between them. He couldn't breathe when Eddie was touching him, which was often. He was starting to worry about oxygen deprivation to his brain. "Disappointed to find out the dungeons part seems like it's up to the DM."

"The whole thing is pretty made up, Stevie. That's the point," Eddie smirked, but it fell away when Steve turned back to the messy table. "Are you, like, wanting to play?"

And this is why he wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe he shouldn't have had everything spread out in the open like this, but he'd assumed he was safe in his own home. With the door locked. And with Eddie supposedly playing the Hideout tonight.

He looked back at Eddie. "Why are you here?"

"Dustin said something about you not answering the phone after he left hours ago and you seemed pissed off or something," Eddie shrugged. "Just wanted to check on you."

"The phone? It didn't ring." Steve didn't think so anyway. He had admittedly tuned his surroundings out entirely once Dustin was gone. "But it's Tuesday."

"Uh huh. It is Tuesday. How long have you been sitting at this table?"

"Ha. Funny." Steve rolled his eyes. "You play the Hideout Tuesdays. Tuesdays are for Corroded Coffin, Wednesdays are for dinner with Wayne, and Thursdays are Hellfire."

Eddie blinked at him. "Yes, usually that's true. But, wait. Sorry. You have my schedule memorized?"

"I mean, some of it, yeah. The parts where I know you won't be nearby or easily reached."

Steve knew it was ridiculous, but how the hell could he make sure he was safe if he didn't even know what Eddie was doing?

Eddie looked like he wanted to say something else about it, but must have changed his mind. He pulled out the chair next to Steve, turned it towards him, and sat down.

"So you've been studying this stuff for..." Eddie leaned in, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"I dunno. A few weeks. I didn't have most of the sheets until a couple days ago though," Steve gestured towards the papers spread out. "I still don't really get it."

"You've been studying for weeks? Stevie, why didn't you just ask me or any of the kids to help explain it?" Eddie almost sounded hurt. "I've been playing for half my life! And I've been a DM for half of that!"

Truthfully, Steve was trying to learn so he could have conversations with Eddie about the stuff he liked. That was basically lesson number one on how to get someone to like you, and Steve had already tried the music thing and failed.

He just wasn't that into the echo of loud guitars and angry drums.

He couldn't exactly ask Eddie to teach him everything and then turn around and try to use what he taught him to flirt with him. That was lame and embarrassing.

"Steve?" Eddie had his hand on Steve's leg, leaning in further towards Steve. He must've been trying to get Steve's attention while he was lost in thought. "I'm kidding. I mean, I wish you'd said something sooner, but if this is how you get into it, I'm not gonna stop you."

"I just wanted to surprise you."

Steve could hear how pitiful that sounded, could hear the whine in his voice that he wasn't able to pull his plan off. As if Eddie would even care! Eddie was the most easygoing, laidback, chaotic person he'd ever met. He would just be happy to have someone else in his little club.

"Surprise me? For what?"

He was also incredibly slow when it came to feelings.

"Because I want to spend more time with you! Because I like you! Because I want you to like me!" Steve tried not to sound frustrated, but his headache was turning into a real problem, and he was tired, and sick of hiding things. Robin told him to just be honest, so he was. "I wanted to surprise you the next time Hellfire was here and have all this knowledge, but it's hard! I don't even know how you keep up with most of this, let alone all the characters? There's like...at least 800 options for how to use weapons and spells. I can't even remember half the races or classes or whatever. I don't even know if those are the same thing. And I keep getting distracted thinking about how you look when you stand at the end of the table and do one of those stupid accents."

"Are they stupid if they're this distracting?" Eddie was smirking, suddenly more confident than Steve had maybe ever seen him.

"They are stupid. That's why it's distracting. And I'm stupid for letting it get to me!" Steve leaned forward, put his head on Eddie's shoulder. The angle wasn't the best, but he didn't care. "You get to me so bad, Munson."

"You're kinda easy to get to, Harrington." Eddie's lips briefly pressed against the side of Steve's head. "Been waiting for you to catch up."

"What do you mean?" Steve pulled away. "I've been trying to get you to realize for months!"

"You came to one show at the Hideout. I think Robin's been to more shows and she's a lesbian."

"She told you?!"

"Steve, she spilled every secret she's ever had when she kept me company in the hospital. I think I know things you don't even know."

Steve let his head fall down against Eddie's shoulder again. "I should've known you were teaming up."

"I wouldn't call it that. She just wanted to look out for us," Eddie's hand cupped the back of Steve's head. "So what did you learn?"

"Probably nothing useful."

"Well, it's easier to be an active learner. I could use an assistant on Thursday if you want some hands on experience," Eddie's fingers scratched at Steve's scalp, melting his brain and making him feel like he was completely weightless. "If you just wanna watch, that can be arranged too."

"You don't let people watch," Steve mumbled against his shoulder, his weight sagging against Eddie.

"I think I can bend my own rule for my boyfriend, right?" Steve could feel Eddie's heartbeat quickening beneath his ear.

His face felt warm as he realized what Eddie was implying. "Only if your boyfriend can sit next to you."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh, and I'd like to trap Dustin's character."

Eddie snorted, kissed Steve's head again. "That can be arranged, too."

[captainreecejames]

"You Can Call Her Phone" series (Lando's Version)

author's note : so I'm thinking if you guys like this I can do it with other drivers (only Oscar, Logan, Alex, Yuki, Liam, Pierre, and Carlos), but you'll have to give me the idea of why they're answering in the first place. I've got a George one lined up next so stay tuned for that.

pairing : Lando Norris x fem!reader

warnings : once again a lot of cursing and shitty men, not proof read

word count : 627

The walk home had been quick, because you refused to have this argument in the middle of the Monaco streets where anybody could hear or see. The crowd at the club had been embarrassing enough. So as soon as you got inside, Lando was ready to defend himself.

“He called you his bitch, babe! I wasn’t going to sit there and let him call you those things!” He was fuming, mostly at the aforementioned man, but there was no one else there to listen to him. 

“And then you basically called me your personal stripper, Lando!” He opened his mouth to talk, but you kept going. “That was so inappropriate and uncalled for. I just can’t even believe you would say something like that.”

He understood where you were coming from, honestly. But Jack had been making eyes at you the whole night without you being aware, and when you went to dance with some friends, he started making lewd that got under his skin. It wasn’t a surprise that Lando had snapped. “He started way before the bitch comment, babe. Okay, and i just couldn’t sit there anymore and take it. He needed to know-“

The phone ringing cut him off and he looked at the screen in your hand.

Jack.

“Is he really fucking calling you after all that?” Lando’s eyes had darkened. “Give me the phone.” You listened, handing him the phone with a resigned look on your face. “What the fuck do you want?” Lando asked him, voice steady with an anger you hadn’t head in a while. “No I’m not gonna give her the fucking phone, you ripe shithead. After the way you spoke about her and to her face, you’re lucky you’re even in the city right now. Because if I had my way, I’d have your ass sent to a fucking tundra where you can’t ever be warm again.” You heard yelling from the other line, but none of it was clear enough for you to make out what he was saying. “I will get a fucking restraining order on you and your goddamn dog if I ever hear that you come near us again, got it?” More yelling came from the other line, but Lando didn’t wait for him to finish, hitting the red end call button.

“You done?” You ask, holding out your hand for him to return your phone.

“One second, I’m blocking him on everything so he can’t talk to you again.”

“And if he makes a second account?”

“I’ll fucking call up Mark Zuckerberg and get him banned from making any social media again.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” He rose an eyebrow at you, but you made no move to grab your phone from him. With a sigh, you dropped your hand and stepped closer to him, pushing your phone away so he would look at you. “Seriously Lan, I want you to know that I’m not okay with what you said tonight at the club. It was one, out of line; and two, none of their business.” That got him to smirk, moving his hands to your waist to pull you flush against him.

“I know baby, I was out of line when I said that to him. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my words.” He kissed your forehead and you leaned into him, content with the apology for now. “But just so we’re on the same page, you’re my private dancer?”

You moved to hit his chest, but he caught it first, bringing your hand up to his mouth for a light peck. When you didn’t answer, he licked your hand and you shrieked. “That’s gross, Lando!” But the smile on your face told him that everything was okay for now.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn’t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

[ginxyy]

The Studio

Who doesn’t love woozis studio and getting fucked in it

I never imagined I’d be back in this room, the air between us so thick with tension it felt like a smothering blanket. Woozi’s studio, normally a place I could breathe in, felt smaller with him in it Mingyu. It wasn’t even supposed to be this way. I was just here to drop off some files, nothing more. But fate has a cruel way of throwing us together. Maybe it was because Woozi had a habit of disappearing whenever work got tedious. Or maybe it was the universe conspiring to make this moment inevitable.

Mingyu was leaning against the console, his broad frame making the small space feel even tighter. His eyes flicked up, catching mine for just a second. That damn smirk of his tugged at the corner of his lips a look that had once melted me, and still, after everything, did the same. I hated that about him. I hated that, even now, after we’d broken up, my heart still raced when he was near. But what was worse? He knew it too.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Mingyu said, his voice low and casual, as if we weren’t standing in the middle of a minefield of unresolved feelings.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I replied, busying myself with the files, pretending they were more interesting than him. “We just work in different departments. I don’t have to see you.”

He chuckled, the sound both warm and mocking. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I turned to glare at him, but that was a mistake. Those dark eyes of his were always too damn good at getting under my skin. They held that familiar look teasing, yes, but with something more behind it. A hunger. One that hadn’t been sated since the day we decided to call it quits.

We’d been so good together, once. At least, that’s what everyone had said. Mingyu was the type of guy who could light up a room, and for a while, I was happy to bask in that light. We had chemistry that could burn the world down, but sometimes the brightest flames are the ones that burn out the quickest.

It wasn’t that we didn’t love each other because we did, deeply. But love wasn’t enough when we couldn’t see eye to eye on certain things. Our schedules, our priorities, the way our lives were heading in two different directions. He was wrapped up in the world of SEVENTEEN, and I was trying to carve my own path at HYBE. The fights became more frequent, and eventually, it felt like we were only holding on because we didn’t know how to let go.

So, we let go.

Or at least, we tried to.

Now, standing here in Woozi’s studio, it was clear that whatever we had wasn’t as easy to shake as we thought. The air hummed with unsaid words, unfulfilled desires. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to create some distance between us, but even that felt futile.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re really here,” he pressed, stepping closer.

“I told you. Woozi needed these files,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Why are you even here?”

“Waiting for Woozi. We’re supposed to be recording.” He raised a brow, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “But I’m not in any rush.”

I swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck. There was a time when I would have closed that distance between us without a second thought, when the tension crackling between us would have only led to one thing. But that was then.

“You should be,” I said quietly, turning my back to him, but I felt him move closer, the heat of his body warm at my back.

“You miss me,” he murmured, his voice low in my ear. It wasn’t a question.

I closed my eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” His hand brushed lightly against my arm, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how easily my body responded to him, even after all this time.

“Don’t.” The word came out weaker than I intended, but he stepped back, respecting the line I’d just drawn. For now.

There was a long silence before Mingyu finally spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You think Woozi’s gonna take long?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Probably not. He’s never gone too long.”

“Shame.” He moved back to the console, his smirk returning as if he hadn’t just rattled my composure. “Guess we’ll have to keep each other company.”

I could still feel the lingering warmth from where his breath had brushed my skin, and I hated it hated how he always managed to worm his way into my thoughts, how my body still reacted to him despite the space I was trying to keep. Woozi’s studio felt more like a trap than ever. A place I couldn’t escape from, no matter how much I tried to pretend that seeing Mingyu didn’t affect me.

I was hyper-aware of his presence, the way he leaned against the console, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the edge. The way his eyes would drift toward me every few seconds, even though I was doing everything I could to pretend I wasn’t paying attention. But I was. I always was.

“You’re tense,” he commented, his voice low, as though he was observing something obvious.

“You think?” I shot back, flipping through the files in front of me, though I wasn’t reading a single word. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me, and I hated that he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he continued, his voice a little softer, and that caught my attention. Mingyu wasn’t often vulnerable. He was charming, witty, and confident, but underneath that, there were cracks ones I knew well, but didn’t often see in moments like this.

I glanced up at him, my throat dry. “What do you want from me, Mingyu?”

He pushed away from the console and crossed the small room in a few steps, his towering frame once again making me feel like there was no air left. He stood in front of me, so close that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His eyes were intense, focused. It was like he could see right through the walls I was trying to keep up.

“I want you to stop pretending like this doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice rougher now. His hand hovered near my waist, but he didn’t touch me, not yet. “Like I don’t still matter.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. “It doesn’t matter. We broke up for a reason.”

“And yet…” His hand finally found my waist, a light touch that sent a shockwave through me. “Here we are. Again.”

I hated how right he was. We couldn’t stay away from each other, no matter how much sense it made. My heart was racing now, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of him, of the way his thumb brushed just slightly against my side. It was like a switch had been flipped, and all the emotions I’d been trying to bury came rushing back to the surface.

I should push him away. I should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself stepping closer, my body betraying me. My breath hitched as I felt the solid warmth of his chest brush against mine, his gaze never leaving my face.

“Mingyu…” I whispered, but it was more of a plea than a protest.

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and then his lips were on mine. The kiss was hard and desperate, like we’d both been starving for this and had finally given in. All the tension that had been building between us exploded in that single moment, and I couldn’t stop myself from responding just as fiercely.

My hands found the front of his shirt, clutching it tightly as I pressed against him, feeling his body mold against mine. His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me even closer as his other hand tangled in my hair. Every part of me was on fire, and I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was that I needed him, now, just as much as I ever had.

“Mingyu, we can’t…” I managed to gasp between kisses, but the words felt hollow. I didn’t mean them. Not really.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough and full of need. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

Instead of answering, I kissed him harder, my body already making the decision for me. His grip tightened on me as we stumbled back against the console, his hands moving lower, gripping my hips like he was afraid to let go. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him, of the way his lips moved against mine, the way his touch sent electric shivers through me.

It was too much, too fast, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I’d missed this missed him more than I wanted to admit. And right now, all the reasons we’d broken up felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the overwhelming need that had taken hold of us.

His lips left mine to trail down my neck, leaving a hot, burning path as his hands roamed my body, exploring familiar territory like he’d never forgotten. I arched into his touch, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I held onto him for dear life.

“Mingyu…” I moaned, the sound escaping before I could stop it, and I felt him grin against my skin, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

“You still want me,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. It wasn’t a question.

I should’ve denied it. I should’ve said something anything that could stop this before it went too far. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My body was on autopilot now, driven by the undeniable pull I felt toward him. The tension, the desire, everything we’d been holding back for months was bubbling to the surface, and there was no stopping it.

His hands slid under my shirt, his touch sending sparks through my skin, and I let out a shaky breath as he pulled me even closer. I felt like I was losing control, and maybe I was. But in that moment, I didn’t care. All I wanted was him. All I needed was him.

Just when I thought we might lose ourselves completely, the door to the studio flew open with a loud crash, and both of us froze.

“Mingyu, have you seen my…” Woozi’s voice cut off abruptly, and my stomach dropped as I whipped around to face him, my heart still racing, my lips swollen from Mingyu’s kisses.

Woozi stood there, one eyebrow raised, his arms crossed as he took in the scene before him. I could feel my face heating up with embarrassment, but Mingyu didn’t even flinch. He just let out a low, frustrated groan and stepped back from me, raking a hand through his hair.

“Really?” Woozi said, his voice dry as he looked between us. “Again?”

I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, but Mingyu just smirked, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

“We were just… catching up,” Mingyu said casually, as if we hadn’t just been seconds away from completely giving in to our desires.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Woozi replied, shaking his head. “You two seriously need to get your shit together. Either break up for real or just admit you can’t stay away from each other.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Woozi had a point, after all. How many times had we found ourselves in this situation? Torn between what we thought was right and what we actually wanted?

“You’re not wrong,” Mingyu said with a grin, clearly unfazed by the interruption. “But you didn’t have to ruin the moment.”

Woozi rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not about to let you defile my studio.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension of the situation broken by Woozi’s dry humor. It was so typical of him, always able to lighten the mood, even when things were at their most awkward.

“Thanks, Woozi,” I said, finally finding my voice. “For… you know, stopping us before we did something stupid.”

Woozi just shrugged, clearly amused by the whole thing. “You’re welcome. But seriously, get it together. I can’t keep walking in on this.”

Woozi had a point, but standing there with my heart still racing and my skin burning where Mingyu had touched me, it was hard to admit that to myself. My mind was spinning, and my breath hadn’t quite returned to normal yet. Woozi’s casual smirk told me he wasn’t going to stick around, and after a few more seconds of awkward silence, he turned to leave, tossing a look over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

“Try not to kill each other before I get back,” he quipped with a grin, and then, like a ghost, he was gone.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly, I was alone with Mingyu again. The weight of the silence crashed down around us, heavy and thick with all the things we weren’t saying. Mingyu took a step back, his hands falling to his sides, but his eyes never left mine. The intensity that had been there just moments before was still simmering beneath the surface, but now, something else had crept into his expression. Something quieter. More serious.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could I even begin to unpack what had just happened? How we’d gone from avoiding each other to nearly falling right back into old habits?

“I meant what I said earlier,” Mingyu finally spoke, his voice low but steady. He took a small step toward me, his eyes searching mine, as though looking for something some sign that I felt it too. “I still matter to you. And you still matter to me.”

My heart clenched in my chest. I wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him that we had moved on, that whatever was between us was over. But the truth was lodged in my throat, impossible to deny. He did still matter. He mattered too much.

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper when I finally spoke. “Mingyu, we broke up for a reason. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he looked down, breaking eye contact for the first time since Woozi had left. “Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t change how I feel. It never has.”

I could feel the weight of his words settling over me, pressing against my chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The truth of it was overwhelming. The love we had shared, the connection that still tied us together it had never gone away, no matter how much we had tried to pretend it had.

“Mingyu…” I started, but he cut me off.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said quietly, his voice strained with the effort to hold back his frustration. “That it wasn’t enough. That we couldn’t make it work because of our schedules, because of the pressure, because of everything going on around us. But the truth is, we didn’t even try.”

My head snapped up at that, his words cutting through me like a knife. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but he was right. We hadn’t tried, not really. We had let our insecurities and our fears drive us apart. We had both been too afraid of what might happen if we failed, so instead of fighting for each other, we had let go.

“You think I didn’t want to fight for us?” I asked, my voice shaking with the raw emotion that had been bottled up inside me for months. “You think I didn’t lie awake at night wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life?”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his face softened told me he had felt it too. The regret. The sleepless nights. The empty spaces where we used to fill each other’s lives.

“I loved you, Mingyu,” I said, my voice cracking on the words. “I still do. But love wasn’t enough to fix the fact that we couldn’t make it work. And that’s on both of us.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue, like he had something more to say, but for once, he stayed quiet. His hands clenched at his sides, and I could see the battle raging behind his eyes. He was fighting the same war I was caught between the love we still had for each other and the reality of the situation we were in.

“Maybe it’s not about fixing everything,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Maybe we’re never going to have a perfect relationship. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have something.”

I shook my head, feeling the tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. “But we did have something, Mingyu. And we let it slip away.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin. The touch was gentle, tender, but it was laced with a kind of desperation that made my chest ache. “I don’t want to let you slip away again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my skin. Every part of me wanted to give in, to tell him that I felt the same way, that I couldn’t bear to let him go either. But there was a voice in the back of my mind that wouldn’t let me forget how hard it had been before. How much it had hurt to try and fail. And how terrified I was of repeating the same mistakes.

“What if it’s just not enough?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes still closed. “What if we hurt each other again?”

His thumb stilled on my cheek, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, he spoke, his voice soft but sure. “Then we try harder. We figure it out together. Because I can’t walk away from this. From you. Not again.”

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with that same intensity, the same unshakeable determination that had always drawn me to him. It was that look that had made me fall in love with him in the first place. And despite everything, despite all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together, I knew I couldn’t walk away from him either.

But it wasn’t that simple.

“We still work together,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even as my heart pounded in my chest. “Our jobs… our lives… They’re still complicated.”

He let out a soft, frustrated breath, his hand slipping from my cheek. “I know. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But maybe… maybe it’s worth trying. Even if it’s complicated.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us. The pull between us was as strong as ever, but the scars of our past were still fresh, and I knew that jumping back into something without thinking it through could be dangerous.

But at the same time… could I really walk away from him again? Could I ignore the way my heart ached for him, the way every fiber of my being wanted to reach out and hold onto him, no matter how complicated things were?

Finally, I let out a shaky breath, stepping back and breaking the physical connection between us. I needed space. I needed to think.

“Mingyu…” I started, my voice soft but firm. “I don’t know if we can just go back to the way things were.”

He didn’t look surprised, but the sadness that flickered across his face made my heart twist painfully. He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked down at the floor. “Yeah. I get it.”

“But maybe…” I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. “Maybe we can figure it out. Slowly. One step at a time.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, hope flickering in them for the first time since we had started talking. “You mean that?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of my decision settle over me. “Yeah. I do. But we need to take it slow. We need to be careful this time.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and the sight of it made my heart flutter in a way that I hadn’t felt in months. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of cautious hope begin to bloom in my chest. Maybe we could figure it out this time. Maybe, just maybe, we could have something again.

His hand lingered against my cheek, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the weight of everything the conversations, the history, the heartbreak it all disappeared. There was just Mingyu and the undeniable pull between us. The way my body responded to his touch as though I had no control, as though all the rational reasons we shouldn’t be doing this again evaporated into the air.

Maybe we were making the same mistake. Maybe we hadn’t learned anything from our time apart. But standing there, feeling the heat radiating from his body, the way his fingers curled against my skin, it didn’t matter. Not in this moment. Not when everything inside me screamed that I needed him.

His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. There was a brief second of hesitation in his eyes, as if he was giving me one last chance to back out. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. We’d been playing this game for too long, and the tension that had been bubbling under the surface had finally reached its breaking point.

I closed the distance between us, my lips crashing into his with a desperation that had been building since the moment we had walked away from each other. Mingyu responded immediately, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me in close, as if he was afraid I might slip away again. The kiss was hard, hungry, and full of all the things we hadn’t been able to say to each other.

His hands found my waist, gripping me tightly as he backed me up against the console. My hands slid up his chest, feeling the hard lines of his muscles through his shirt, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to his like we’d never been apart, like we were two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

Mingyu’s lips left mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw, my neck, his breath coming out in short, heated bursts. Every nerve in my body was on fire, and I arched into his touch, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close. It was like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been sitting between us came rushing out, uncontrollable and wild.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he groaned against my skin, his hands sliding under my shirt, his fingers warm against the bare skin of my back. “Missed you.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped my lips as his hands roamed my body. I had missed this too missed him more than I wanted to admit. The way his touch made me forget about everything else, the way my body came alive under his hands, the way I felt when I was with him.

“Mingyu,” I breathed, my voice shaky, full of need. “Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, full of all the passion we had been holding back for so long. His hands moved to my hips, lifting me up onto the console, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in close, feeling the solid warmth of his body pressing against mine.

His hands slid up my sides, pushing my shirt up as he kissed me harder, more urgently. I could feel the tension coiling in my stomach, the need for him building with every touch, every kiss. My hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, my fingers immediately exploring the hard planes of his chest, the familiar feel of his skin under my fingertips sending a thrill through me.

Mingyu let out a low groan, his hands moving with purpose as he pulled me closer, his lips never leaving mine. It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other, like we were trying to make up for all the lost time, all the months we had spent apart. The desperation between us was electric, charging the air around us as we lost ourselves in each other.

His hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of my pants, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I gasped, breaking the kiss as my head fell back, my body arching into his touch. He grinned against my skin, clearly enjoying the way I was unraveling under him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands making quick work of my clothes as he pulled them off, tossing them to the side with an urgency that mirrored my own.

I didn’t have the words to respond. All I could do was cling to him, my body aching for his touch, my mind lost in the haze of desire that had consumed us both. His hands were everywhere exploring, teasing, driving me wild with need. Every touch, every kiss was like a reminder of how good we were together, how much I had missed this missed him.

“Mingyu, please,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed me back against the console, his body covering mine. “I need you.”

His eyes met mine, dark and full of desire, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no second-guessing. He knew what I wanted what we both wanted. And without another word, he gave it to me.

The moment he entered me, the world fell away. There was no space, no time just the two of us, tangled together in the heat of the moment. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. But as the tension between us built, so did the urgency. Our bodies moved together in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, the heat between us rising with every touch, every kiss, every desperate gasp of breath.

It was like coming home. Everything about this felt right his touch, his body, the way we fit together like we had never been apart. I could feel the pleasure building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement, every whisper of his name on my lips.

“Mingyu…” I moaned, my voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “I’m close.”

His grip tightened on me, his pace quickening as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Me too,” he groaned, his voice strained with the effort to hold back, to drag this out as long as possible.

But we were both too far gone. The pleasure hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with a force that left me gasping, my body trembling as I came undone in his arms. Mingyu followed soon after, his body tensing against mine as he groaned my name, his hands gripping me tightly as he rode out the waves of pleasure with me.

For a moment, neither of us moved, our breathing ragged, our bodies still pressed together, slick with sweat. The studio was silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing, the air between us charged with the remnants of what had just happened.

Mingyu lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, and there was a softness there a tenderness that made my heart ache. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes said it all. We weren’t just making up for lost time. This was more than that. This was us, falling back into each other, because no matter how much we had tried to stay apart, we were always going to end up here.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I missed you,” he whispered, his voice full of sincerity, of emotion that he rarely let show.

I smiled, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under my palm. “I missed you too.”

We stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the afterglow, our bodies still pressed close as we caught our breath. The intensity of the moment had faded, but the connection between us hadn’t. It was still there, stronger than ever, and I knew that whatever happened next, we’d face it together.

Eventually, Mingyu pulled away, his hand trailing down my arm as he helped me sit up. He reached for his shirt, handing it to me with a soft smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled it over my head, the fabric still warm from his body.

“Woozi’s gonna kill us if he finds out what we did in here,” I said with a grin, my voice still breathless from everything that had just happened.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head as he slipped back into his pants. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… happy. Things weren’t perfect. We still had a lot to figure out, a lot to work through. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that we were together, and we had a chance to start again.

As Mingyu pulled me close, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe we didn’t have all the answers yet. Maybe we’d still face challenges along the way. But we had each other, and for now, that was enough.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

[cheyisagirlkisser]

hi chey! your fics are so good jfc. i would looove to see a fic with Vi where the reader really worships her and her body during sex, her tattoos and muscles everything! thank youuuuu <3

HIII SORRY FOR THE WAIT!! I had the first paragraph collecting dust in my drafts for a while. This is short but I'm so obsessed with Vi so I needed to put this out.

CONTENT: Oral sex (V! receiving isn't that crazy? reader isn't a pillow princess for once), biting, nipple play, worshipping Vi's body

Your fingertips, with much adoration, trace over every line of ink engraved into Vi's skin. It is much like a religious routine to caress each piece of artwork with already kiss-swollen lips, admire her naked, form, and bite into her muscles to earn yourself those sweet, sweet moans from her.

Your lips trail down her chest, taking each nipple in-between your teeth and giving it a soft nip. Vi gasps, her head falling back at the pleasure.

"Please, I need more." She begs, and you can only oblige.

Your lips are quick to leave her tits, tracing over her firm abdomen. You take your time with her navel and at the same time, your hands run over her back in soft, adoration-filled motions.

Her pussy is perhaps the sweetest thing you've ever been offered a taste of and you eat appropriately, letting her juices coat your chin shamelessly. Each drop tastes like a sample of heaven, and you fail to resist yourself from the temptation staring at you: her sopping-wet folds. You plunge your tongue between them and soon feel Vi's grip on your hair, her fingers guiding your motions.

"F-Fuck, yeah.. just like that, let me fuck you pretty face." Your pretty face? She should see her own. You still moan eagerly, nodding against her pussy. Her eyes almost roll back into her noggin upon each grind she delivers to your mouth because your nose nudges perfectly against her clit, sending shudders of pleasure throughout her.

She's almost riding your face now, shamelessly using it to get off. You don't even mind; you'll let her fuck your tongue for hours if it pleases her. She tastes too addicting to pull away from even if you needed a break.

Her orgasm hits you as hard as it hits her with a violent buck of her hips up into your face and a squeezing sensation of her thighs tightening against your cheeks. You can't help but moan against her pussy as she sporadically rides out her high, your tongue desperately trying to keep up with her movements. All you can even think about is her: the way her eyes flutter like butterfly wings, how her bottom lip is bitten down upon a multitude of times to handle her orgasm, the sensation of her release drenching your lower face and the urge to lick your hips after this. Vi is such a goddamn goddess.

When she finally loosens her stronghold on your head, her thighs parted now, you let out one final shaky breath and move up to lay on top of her. Now, this may be your favorite part. Her face is so satisfied, bliss written all over it. Her biceps have a sheen of sweat over them and you bet her back does, too. You lean down to kiss Vi, letting her taste her own nectar on your tongue. The kiss is so saccharine, you swear that it could give you a toothache. You whimper as she pulls away to stare down at your own body.

"My turn to worship you now?"

[couragemydearheart]

៚⋆˙⟡ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬.

# 01 — nanami kento x fem! reader # 02 — cw: fluff, soft soft nanami and soft soft reader because that man deserves all the happiness he can get # 03 — wc: 0.63k # 04 — an: so jujutsu kaisen is my latest obsession because i finished watching it just recently, and i just loved nanami so much, he didn't deserve what he got (like so many other favs T-T GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE) so i decided to shower him with some loveee

and since i obviously needed a push, i came across this post and i loved the prompts so much, so thanks to @urfriendlywriter (i was in desperate need of writing prompts and finding your post on my dashboard was a fucking blessing) this one-shot will be based off no. 7! the prompt for reference is: "that gaze— tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you"."

anyways, apologies for the long ass author's note, hope y'all enjoy <3

"is that your favourite bread?"

those were your first words to nanami. and you found yourself repeating them quite often as your relationship with him evolved.

starting off as co-workers when you moved into town, you and nanami hadn't spoken a word to each other, or rather had never had a need to converse with the other until then. your co-workers were all friendly enough, but nearly all of them were older and had their own lives to be busy in. so you took it upon yourself to roam the new city on your own, finding and trying out new places, cute cafes, and of course your personal favourite: bakeries. a lover of all things sweet and savoury, you were nearly sure that you would open your own bakery after college were it not for this banking job you found. it was a shame you couldn't open your own place, but your new job paid you well enough to let you try out all the bakeries you wanted in peace. that was exactly how you came across this quaint little place a bit across town selling the most delicious bread.

so after spying the similar bread wrapping by his work desk nearly every week, you just hadn't been able to stop the words from leaving your mouth, especially since it was at the sight of a mutual interest.

it was however nanami's response that wasn't the same from the first time, and you were glad for it. when you asked him the question the very first time, he was rather indifferent, a bit surprised that someone had initiated conversation with him and slightly miffed about it interrupting his work. and now, nanami smiled at you fondly from the entrance of your shared kitchen where he leaned against the doorframe, before he took the bread from its place under his arm and placed it on the counter. "and yours, my love," he hums in reply to your question.

you couldn't help the giggle that slipped your lips at his reply as you turned the stove off and moved towards him. "mhmm." standing mere inches away from him now, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up until your fingers deftly undid the knot of his tie as they'd done countless times before. "that it is. a favourite just as much as you are, kento."

you could have predicted his response to your corny line in your sleep, the shaking of his shoulders with his throaty chuckle paired with the slightest eye roll. your smile widened at the light in his eyes, and you gripped his now unknotted tie and pulled him closer to you until you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips as he spoke. "really? just as much as the bread, but not more?"

he was teasing you, and you clicked your tongue at him, eyes full of mirth looking up at him. "don't get ahead of yourself now darling, we may be married but that doesn't-"

your voice dissolved into shrieks and giggles as nanami's fingers tickled and teased at your sides and his teeth nipped at your neck. "okay, okay, kento!" another little bite. "ken- okay i was kidding!," you whined at your husband, making him finally relent.

"what was it you were saying just now?" he mocked. "wanna repeat it for me, darling?"

“nooo, ken you know you’re my favourite.” you smiled up at him, eyes shining with so much love for the man before you. “more than anything else.”

and that gaze— tired, soft, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" before he presses a slow kiss to your lips and leans his forehead against yours. then he speaks.

"you're my favourite too, over everything else."

taglist

@luvhkit (hi, you'd asked to be tagged on a reiner fic i wrote ages ago and im writing after so long so idk if you meant just aot/reiner fics, but i tagged you just in case, so i hope this is okay and feel free to let me know otherwise <3) @nerdyfuntheorist (im backkkkk)

i hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i loved writingg! feedback is always appreciated and feel free to send in requests <3

— © property of couragemydearheart. do not copy or post on any other site without permission.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 23

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: getting suggestive again, and dealing with trauma wc: 2.3k

Chapter Selection

“Are you sure you want to do this today, honey? You’ve already made a lot of progress today…” I frowned slightly. Jason was chewing on his lower lip, sitting in front of me on my bed. The lights were on, and he was in a tank top, showing me his arms.

He nodded slowly, reaching for my hand. “I want to do this. I just … need a second.”

I squeezed his hand, nodding. “Anything you want. … Do you know how much or how little you want me to react?”

“... No … Um … just your natural reaction, I guess? … Don't touch though. Not yet.”

I nodded, holding his hand in both of mine. “Ok. Whenever you're ready.”

He nodded, looking at our hands for a second before sliding his hand away, shakily taking his shirt off. I sat back, watching as he slowly revealed his muscular chest and stomach. He had a little bit of hair trailing from his belly button to the hem of his pants, and scars peppered his torso. Something short-circuited in my brain as he dropped his shirt to the side; a primal growl poured out of my throat and I slapped my hands over my face.

“... What on earth was that???” Jason squeaked, staring at me wide eyed.

“... I'm so sorry…” I hid my face against my knees, blushing bright red.

“... Did you seriously just growl??”

“Do you seriously look like that?!” I shot back, blushing bright red. “Oh my god, Jay… how the hell am I supposed to function now??”

He blushed bright red, grabbing his shirt again. “Is it that bad?”

“No!!” I held a hand up to stop him; “no, it's not bad! … Why would it be bad???”

He blushed more, gesturing to a thin, pink line down the center of his stomach. I followed it up his chest where it split between his pecs, frowning a little. I hadn't noticed it until he pointed it out. “... That is not at all what I thought we were talking about here.”

“What were you looking at??”

“The muscles??? … My love, do you not realize you are shaped like Hercules after the training montage?”

He blushed bright red, staring down at himself. His chest and stomach had dozens of more prominent scars, but he seemed fixated on the one in the center. “... I … guess?”

I groaned softly, flopping backward to lay down. “Mhhh, fuck … can we be Hercules and Megara for Halloween next year?”

He chuckled softly. “If you want. … It's really not that bad?”

 I looked up at him, biting my lower lip softly. “Mhh~ not bad in the slightest. … I think this is one of those things where it's more noticeable to you, because it bothers you, than it is to others.”

“... Oh…” he frowned a bit, staring at it more.

“... Why does it bother you so much?”

“... I'm a zombie …” he whispered sadly.

“... Oh….” I frowned, sitting up slowly, finally understanding. That was an autopsy scar. “... Can I have your hand?”

He nodded, holding it out to me. I stroked the palm gently. “Do you feel that?” He nodded, and I held his hand to my cheek. “Hm, … feels warm.” I pressed two fingers to his wrist. “And that's a pulse. Nope, I'm sorry sweetie, but I don't think you qualify as a zombie.”

He blushed a bit, chuckling weakly. “... I was brought back from the dead…”

“You're the classics nerd in the room; how many demi-gods, heroes, and men of myth have been resurrected?”

“... A lot.”

“Were they zombies after?”

“... No… not usually.”

“Then why are you any different?”

He blinked a bit, frowning. “... I'm not … I'm not like them.”

“No, you're better. You're right here in front of me.” I kissed his palm, stroking his forearm gently. “You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

He nodded slowly, blushing brightly. “... Ok, … you … really like the muscles?”

“Ohhh baby, yessss~” I purred softly, already imagining getting my teeth on his pecs. “You have no idea the things I want to do with you~”

He blushed brightly, hesitantly grinning. A shocked chuckle slipped out of his mouth as he looked down at his chest again; “... Ok, … you can touch now.”

“I can??” I blushed brightly.

“If you want,” he smiled shyly at me.

I grinned, nodding. “Oh, I want. But do you want?”

He chuckled softly, stroking my cheek with his thumb. He slowly pulled me closer, whispering; “Why don't we start with this?”

I nodded, shifting closer, and he pulled me into a soft kiss. I rested my forearms on his shoulders, letting him lead for now, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. His thumbs caressed my sides, sliding under my shirt a bit as he pulled me closer. I sighed happily against his lips, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. The other slid into his hair, tugging gently.

Jason groaned softly, laying on his side and pulling me down next to him. I slowly let my hand trail down his chest, tracing the outline of his pec and down his abs. He breathed in deeply, squeezing my side a bit. “Ah~ d- doll~”

I grinned, kissing down his jaw. “That feel ok, pretty boy?~”

He shuddered, gasping; “Nguh… p- pretty?”

“Mhh-hm~ my pretty boy~” I purred softly, kissing his neck. I could feel his pulse racing under my lips as I slid my hand along his muscular chest.

His breath hitched as my fingers slid delicately over a bullet scar on his hip. “Ah … N- no one's ever called me pretty before…”

“Not to your face at least…” I purred softly, licking the soft spot where his jaw met his neck.

He gasped sharply, groaning softly. “O- ohhh fuck~ a- are you gonna eat me?”

“Mhhh, I might have to~” I gently nibbled on his Adam's apple, moaning softly; “you just look so tasty~ Is that ok?~”

He shuddered, pulling me so our chests pressed together. “Ahh~ fuck, ma~ … y- yeah~”

I chuckled softly, kissing down his throat to his collarbone. My fingers trailed across his chest, delighting in the way his muscles twitched and quivered under my touch. I watched his face as I kissed and licked more. He laid back and whimpered softly, squirming a bit as I explored his chest. I gently bit down on his nipple, reveling in the startled moan that poured from his lips.

“W- wait …” He covered his face, whining softly. I pulled back, gently stroking his side.

“Too much?”

He covered his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I … I want … Um …”

I nodded, stroking along his abs gently. “You can have anything you want, baby. You just say the word, and it's yours~”

He squeaked softly, peeking at me from between his fingers. “I wanna … make you feel good…”

I giggled softly, nodding. “How would you like to do that?”

He chewed on his lower lip, frowning a bit. “Um ... can … can I …”

He slowly pushed me to lay on my back, and I happily fell into the position he wanted. He leaned over me, kissing me gently, and I cupped his cheeks. His hands trailed down my sides to the hem of my shirt. “Can I … take this off?”

I nodded, shifting to help him slide it off. He moaned softly, fondling my soft tummy and kissing my chest. I groaned softly, gently tugging his hair. “Ah~ Jay~”

He moaned softly, kissing and nipping at my breasts. I whimpered and moaned, shivering. “Ohh fuck, Jason~”

He grinned, stroking my hips as he kissed down my chest. His lips finally met my tummy and he purred softly, squishing my soft curves between his hands as he pressed kisses all over me. I blushed bright red, shivering.

“Mhhh~ so soft~” he purred, pressing against me firmly.

I blushed bright red, shivering. “Ahh … y- you like that?”

“Love it~ you're so cozy and cuddly~ just wanna bury myself in your warmth and never come back out~ … love you so much, my sexy girl~”

I whimpered softly, blushing more. “Ahh~ I love you too~”

He sighed happily, kissing and nuzzling my tummy more, stroking my hips absentmindedly. I squirmed a bit under his touch, gently tugging his hair. We laid like that, his hands and lips exploring my chest and stomach, my hands in his hair, for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other’s touch.

After a while, my fingers slid down his neck and across his back. He shivered a bit as my ring finger slid against a divot in his skin; a small, oblong burn scar near his spine. Jason pulled back a bit, staring down at me with wide, far away eyes. His breath came in short, rapid pants, and I carefully moved my hands away.

“Jay? Baby, can you hear me?”

He shuddered, gasping softly, and slowly nodded.

“... Do you know where you are?”

“... 'm home … with you … we're in your room …” I nodded, carefully resting a hand against his. He fumbled to grasp my hand, squeezing tight. “... I … I can hear him …”

“... What do you hear, baby?”

He whined softly, his forehead falling against my chest. “... H- he's laughing … I … I can't …”

I frowned deeply, squeezing his hand firmly. “I'm here, baby. He can't hurt you anymore. I'm right here; you're in my home, you're safe…”

He gasped sharply, collapsing on top of me. “... Please …. Please, make it stop … I … I can't … I can't …”

I stroked the back of his head, holding him tight to my chest. “I'm here, Jason. Feel my heart beating?”

He grasped for me, crying softly, and slowly nodded. I took his hand, pressing it firmly to my chest, so he could feel my heart. “You are safe. You are here in my arms, and I won't let anything happen to you. I'm here. We're in my bedroom. It's almost dinner time. We're gonna order from that little Chinese restaurant on the corner. Nothing’s gonna harm you.”

He panted softly, slowly wrapping his arms around my waist. I held him tight, stroking his shoulders. “... Deep, slow breathes, baby. You can do it…”

Eventually, his breathing evened out a bit. “That's good. You're doing so well for me, baby~ … can you name five things you see?”

“... You. … Blanket … bookshelf … window… tree.”

I nodded. “Very good. Now four things you can touch?”

His hands slid across my back, trembling; “mhh … you … bed … pillow … my shirt.”

I nodded. “And now three things you can hear?”

“... Your voice … the heat kicking on … um …” he burrowed his face into my chest; “... I can't think of anything else…”

“Hmm … do you hear … the bird on the tree?” I pointed toward the window and he listened.

“... Yeah, ok, the bird…”

I nodded, kissing his forehead. “Very good. Now, how about two things you can smell?”

“... Your perfume.” He sighed happily, kissing above my heart. “... And … the laundry detergent on the blanket.”

I nodded, stroking his hair. “Well done, my love~ now something you can taste?”

He frowned, thinking. “... Um …” he looked up at me and slowly smiled, kissing me gently. “Mh~ your chapstick.”

I giggled softly, nodding. “Good one. You feeling a bit more stable now?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I'm stable. … I … I'm sorry, that was-”

“No, no sorries. You have nothing to apologize for.” I stroked his hair, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry you got sucked back there like that.”

He snuggled against me, sighing softly. “... You didn't do anything wrong, doll. … I just … got stuck.”

I nodded, stroking his hair more. “I've got you, baby…”

He caressed my side, kissing my shoulder. “You take such good care'a me… I … I don't understand it.”

I held him close, “What do you mean, sweetie?”

“... I … I don't understand how you so effortlessly make space for my brokenness. … We were having fun, and then my past got in the way … And you aren't mad. … You see my sharp edges and accept them without even a moment's hesitation, like you're not afraid to be cut… I don't understand how you're so strong … You do it for Damian too, you know. … We're both so used to being people's projects. Just … things that need to be fixed. We're dangerous. We hurt those around us, like … ice in your lungs, and fire licking your heels, …. We are death made flesh …And you embrace us without reservation. … Don't you realize, there are monsters in our shadows? Don't you hear them howling, determined to consume everything in their path? … Your gentleness will make you their first target. The monsters will make puppets of us, they always do eventually, and they will feast on your flesh.... You are so clever, surely you know, if you don't flee, someday soon my monsters will eat us both alive...”

He sniffled softly, arms and legs entangled with mine, as if he was afraid I might agree and run screaming. I stroked his hair more, holding him close. “... You're not the only one with monsters, my love. … My monsters scream for blood; they cannot fathom how anyone who loves you could know what you've been through and just … let it be. … They want vengeance, and they make it sound so easy … I … I want to make you safe. I want to fight whatever darkness tries to sink its claws into you, … I want to make it bleed…”

He blinked slowly, pulling me closer. “... Y- you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid … I need you to be safe.”

I nodded, cupping his cheek. “I promise, nothing stupid. As long as you promise to always come home to me.”

He nodded, pressing desperate kisses to my lips. “Promise. Always gonna come home to you, princess~”

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Divider by: @saradika-graphics

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[crappycamille]

a/n: gasp, i actually wrote something. be easy on me okay, i haven’t done this in a while. just some fluffy conjecture tbh, although there is one suggestive line but that’s why all my stuff is 18+, minors dni please… enjoy <3

Bakugou Katsuki had never experienced touch.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He had been touched before: punched and hit by those desperately trying to escape his pursuit, clung to by those fearing for their life, gentle yet encouraging pats on the back from friends, loving but annoying pinches of the ear from his mother. He’s even been pawed at and caressed by lust-filled women that satisfy temporary needs. And even more dangerously, he’s been fondled by the promise of love disguised as lust… But never had Bakugou been touched.

At least until you.

The first time you touched Bakugou is a memory he will never forget. He was bone tired having worked an incredibly grueling month-long mission.

Instead of going home to catch up on much-needed sleep, he immediately went to his office to get the paperwork done. Most people don’t know that a lot of things on the legal side can’t go through until his side of the paperwork is done. Bakugou constantly feels like he’s never fast enough. No matter how fast he can get to the victims. No matter how fast he catches the villain. No matter how fast he gets things done he wasn’t fast enough to prevent the victims from becoming victims in the first place. So, in his mind, the least he could do is get his paperwork done as fast as possible so that those involved can get their justice.

But, of course, the moment the mission is done—before he’s even had a chance to change out of his hero suit—he’s met with nothing but a mountain of news articles and tabloid headlines ridiculing his name. They find joy in villainizing him over the smallest of details.

Most of the time, Bakugou ignores those things. It doesn’t matter to him what others think. They can nitpick whatever they want because despite that he won. He saved the people who needed to be saved. To him, that was all that really mattered… usually.

It must have been his level of exhaustion, but he couldn’t help the way his brows furrowed in disappointment reading the headlines. The words for the public sitting heavier on his chest than normal. His emotions got to him more than normal as he walked down the hallway from his official, finally heading home.

It was late.

Far too late for anyone else to still be there. Yet, he swore he could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels clicking against the floor. As he turned the corner he was met with the sight of you packing up. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he watched with confusion as scurried around filing documents, turning off computers, and locking doors.

“The hell? Why’re you still here?” He internally cringed as his voice boomed more than he meant it to since you nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing him.

“Oh Dynamight, Sir! I apologize I meant to be out of here before you noticed I was here.” Exhaustion seeped through your voice, giving you more rasp than normal.

“That’s not what I asked you. The hell’re you still here for?”

“Well…” you scratched your head feeling a bit shy, debating on whether or not to tell him the real reason why you were there. “I stayed to make sure all of the paperwork you submitted just now went through. As head of your legal team, it’s my job to make sure things on the agency’s side are squared away. I understand you like to get things done immediately after a mission, Sir.”

Bakugou was speechless. So many questions riddle through his head he wanted to ask. Had you done this after every mission and he never noticed you? yes When had you noticed that he came in after missions to do paperwork? Why did you care? Instead, he watched wordlessly as you gathered your things.

“You don’t need to do that.” He finally spoke. His tone was unusually soft, nearing sweet if you squinted hard enough. You breathily chuckled. You had been working for Bakugou long enough to know that was his way of saying thank you.

“It’s really no problem, Sir. No reason you have to be the only person in the office so late, especially after working such long missions.” You softly smiled at him. With you being so close, he could see the exhaustion prominent in your own face.

The two of you worked your way out of the building together in silence. Bakugou felt that he had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but they all muddled to the back of his mind.

It was only when you guys reached the front lobby exit that he became aware of the incessant buzzing of his phone. Countless mentions, tags, reposts, and message requests were flooding in from every social media app. He could’ve sworn he turned his notifications off a long time ago, but there they were. Those same articles that called him a corrupt hero, a heinous/reckless man, and nitpicked things down to the way he breathed were being sent to him over and over again. A constant reminder that so many people disapprove of him.

He hadn’t noticed how tightly he had been gripping his phone. How clenched his bicep was until he felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. Your hand was small in comparison to his but its presence was overwhelming.

Your thumb subtly rubbed soothing circles on his clenched bicep. “If it’s worth anything, I think you’re incredibly kindhearted. The world is lucky to have a hero like you protecting it. Goodnight, Sir. Get some rest.”

Bakugou thought he was going to melt the second you pulled your hand away. Your words rang loud in his ears, but his skin buzzed even louder at the lingering effects of your touch. He had to stop himself from sobbing in the lobby that night.

There was something oh so special about your touch.

From the first time you ever touched him to the way, you touch him now as his wife. He swears he has to stop himself from sobbing every time. It’s the overwhelming love that pours out of you every time your skin connects with his.

He was so incredibly touch-starved before you came along. Starved from the kind of touch that doesn’t come from platonic relationships. Starved from the touch of someone that didn’t expect to gain something from him in return. Starved from the intimate touch of true love.

He revels in every little touch you grace him with. The way you hold his hand under the dinner table. The way you pinch him lovingly, reminding him of his mother, when he says something out of pocket.The way you squeeze his thigh and rub soothing circles on him when tensions get high in a meeting. The way you nestle your face in his back as he cooks. The way you lightly slap his shoulder as you laugh hysterically. The way you drag your hands along his sides as he lays on you. The way you claw at him desperate to somehow bring him impossibly closer as he thrusts into you.

In all honesty, he still has a hard time fathoming that you are his. That you are in love with him. That you choose to be with him every day. He feels undeserving, but you always definitively object. He believes that you are so much more than anything he could ever be, but that’s exactly how you feel about him.

Your touch is just one of the things he obsesses over you. Because he is just so incredibly in love with you.